This is my Story.

I’ll be honest, I only found this website because of a research paper I’m doing of a local community issue for my university English 111 class. I picked ‘suicide prevention’ as my topic because that was the one I know the most about. I might just be an average joe but I feel like I can relate to some on here. Though it feels like my situation was nothing compared to you guys.

I was born in Bellevue, Nebraska on the Air Force Base with a “disability.” I wouldn’t really call it one but it doesn’t enable me to do certain things. I was born with four missing fingers (though they are half developed), and I recently found out that there’s a name to my disability, or ‘disorder’, in this case. I have Amniotic Band Disorder. This means that it was “caused by entrapment of fetal parts (usually a limb or digits) in fibrous amniotic bands while in utero.” So I was an amputee when I was first born. I was the mistake child, my father wanted to divorce my mother until she shouted out that she was pregnant with me. He tolerated her until I was born and divorced two weeks later. My mother took custody of me and my brother and became depressed. My grandmother was taking care of her and me and my brother. I had a case of bad dandruff by the time my grandmother called it quits and called my dad to come get us three months later.

My dad got remarried to a woman when I was 5 or 6 in Nebraska, where he met her. Things were nice for a while until after the marriage. We moved to Alaska because of my dad being in the military. We were all happy. She became pregnant with my dad’s child and the family became ecstatic until her miscarriage, that’s when it really started to slip. She’d sit up on the kitchen counter smoking meth (at least I think she was smoking, I’m not quite certain about these drugs) in tin foil. I’d walk in on her every so often and she’d shoo me away to my room and lock me in until she was done or leave me there the entire day if she forgot. She’d also hit me whenever she pleased, even allowed her parents to hit me for silly things like burping in a restaurant. She had a daughter who was two years younger than me who was spoiled. She would do something bad and come running to Mommy saying that I did it and I’d get hit for it. My father would dote on her, and I felt neglected. We did my step mom’s work around the house, picked up after my step sister because she “was too young.” But then she started seeing someone.

My step mom would take me out to see this guy, a construction worker who’s been in and out of jail. She’d bring him home all the time until my dad caught them having an affair. She pulled a restraining order out of her ass, saying he beat her when it was the opposite (she pulled the same thing on a guy recently, I there’s an article on her getting arrested for bigomy, heh. Karma’s real tough sometimes. Its on this website: http: //www.omaha.com/news/crime/he-said-i-do-then-he-gave-her-husband-a/article_848bab1f-1ec3-5c41-861b-5c3a9359642e.html. You might get a kick out of it.)But I remember that day vividly. Dad was throwing dishes everywhere and me and my brother were hiding in my room scared of all the yelling. He was sent to a psychiatric institute after that and we were stuck with her.

One day, he came to visit us at home. Me and my brother were at school so the only people home were my step mom and step sister. I came home to seeing my dad being pushed into a cop car. I ran inside the house crying, wanting to see my dad. My step mom ignored me, brushing me off saying “Just go to your room” and locked herself in her and my dad’s bedroom. My room was downstairs so I walked down the stairs to a horrifying sight. The layout of the house had it so if you were on the stairs, you could see my room off to the left and the bathroom next to it from across the stairs. My brothers room was on the left hand of the stairs, opposite of mine. I ran down the stairs to see a puddle of blood in the bathroom next to my room. My dad attempted suicide.

It got better, he got released and the couple separated. At the airport, he gave me a choice. Which makes no sense to give a six year old a choice. He asked me who I wanted to go with; him and my brother, OR my step mom and step sister. I had never had a mother figure before my step mom so you know what my choice was? My step mom.

Things were great for a little while. We moved down back to Nebraska where her parents were, while my real family stayed in Alaska. I talked to my dad and sometimes my brother every day. But the beatings got worse. Her whole family used me as their dummy, except my step aunt who was 17 at the time. I had even made a friend at school who was sort of similar to me. She lived out in the country and had a stump as an arm (it got cut off by a large lawn mower). She was what I looked forward to seeing every day until one day.

Suddenly, my step mom got involved with this guy who worked over in the bordering state Iowa. She got the bright idea to move with him over the border. We moved and I was cut off from all contact with my real family. I wasn’t allowed to even walk to school without being escorted by my step mom. I never fitted in school, I was always the freak in town. Constantly bullied, I made at least one friend. One of the janitors at my school in Iowa was my first friend. I still have a card from him that always makes me smile. This went on for a year until one day a sheriff came and picked me up during class. I found out through him that my dad and mom had been frantically searching for me. My step mom ‘kidnapped’ me in a sense, trying to extort child support money from my dad. At the sheriff’s office, I spoke to my mother for the first time (that I remember).  They put me in foster care with a kind elderly couple. Their granddaughter however was not as kind. She was extremely jealous that I was getting all the attention and made my life hell while staying there for two weeks until I was sent back to Alaska with my dad and brother.

My life wasn’t really the same after that. I became withdrawn, more sensitive to the bullies at school. My dad really liked computers, so I was exposed to the internet at a young age. I met all sorts of people online, where most of my friends were, and had unhealthy relationships. I went through sets of people every few months, feeling more and more broken. All I wanted was to belong, to have someone who wanted my attention. But I looked for attention in all the wrong places.

By my sophomore year in high school, I started getting involved with boys. Yep. Boys. There was a guy I met at my best friend’s, Jessica’s, birthday party in December. We clicked and dated. Til I found out he was basically a mimic. He copied and repeated everything I said, never having anything to say. It took me a month to realize that and we broke up. Well, that same best friend who introduced us? She tried to get with him the day after. Had him believing that they were in love (he gets brainwashed easily, very passive). I also had this abusive “friend.” She was totally insecure and I found out that I was in the same class as her boyfriend at the time (math, ugh). We became friends and I helped him in Algebra 2 (which he ended up failing). She found out that we became friends and kept deleting my number. It got to the point where he just couldn’t handle her anymore and broke up. That’s when he started chasing after me.

We started dating and I thought I was in love. A month into our relationship, I spent the weekend over at his house and lost my virginity. Dumb move on my end, I know. But I did it. My dad and grandma found out right after and grounded me, so the only way I could speak to him was through email. He kept telling me that he would talk to me later, cause he was going to visit his friend Eugene. Which I thought was strange because Eugene was mad at him from what I last remembered. But I played along. A week or so later he broke up with me, saying I “changed.” I was so broken up, wondering what I did wrong. Then found out he cheated on me right after with my best friend. I eventually forgave him and got back together with him. And thus began the cycle.

He kept switching between me and her. On and off. By the 7th time, I just couldn’t do it anymore and broke it off for good. I went through a few more online relationships, until I met a guy named Romeo. Honestly I don’t believe that’s even his real name at this point. Or that he actually lives in Italy. I fell so head over heels for this guy, and let me be honest. He was my first love. I tried chasing after him for so long, trust me he had a bunch of girls chasing after him, and he always told me he loved me so one day I finally convinced him to be with me over a year ago. Okay maybe convinced is the wrong word. But you get my point.

We were happy but. . . we were both depressed with life. Until one night, I was so upset with all these girls still chasing after him and him not doing a damn thing about it that I just wanted to end it all. So he offered to “play a game” with me. He would cut himself and bleed to death, and I would overdose on my dad’s medications. Ironically, I had saved up about 50-60 of a bunch of my dad’s medications (even diet pills) over the past month, planning suicide. Periodically I would take a handful of pills, and he would cut. But he went to bed late that night at about 2 am. I laid down and felt awful. Then the throwing up happened. I stumbled to the bathroom, unable to even stand up on my knees puking. My family came in comforting me until I accidentally told them I overdosed. My dad freaked out and called the ambulance. I couldn’t even walk in a straight line or hold myself up, two cops had to half drag me to the ambulance. In the ER, I had two friends visit me. One of them called me dumb and I’ve only seen her once since then. The other sobbing and I haven’t seen her much since last winter. My dad admitted me into a program in the mental health unit at the hospital once I got the meds out of my system in ICU. I felt so weak and pathetic. I would hide out in my tiny bathroom instead of going to therapy with kids just like me. I even spent my 17th birthday in the hospital. I pushed forward and faked it though, just blocked all thoughts out (which I was good at). Romeo didn’t give a shit and he seemed fine when I was released a month later. I clung on like a fool until I met Will.

Our relationship was completely unsteady and stressful, with a bunch of events happening one after another. But we finally said screw it, we’re better off as friends even though we’re still in love. I wanted to go out more and experience life but… I don’t know anymore. I met someone recently that I was starting to like but just one day he stopped talking and seeing me. Every time I make a friend, they just stop all of a sudden and it breaks me completely. I’m so tired of being alone and wish just someone could stay by my side longer than a few months at most. But I’m tired. I’ve already given up trying so most of my time is spent in my room, talking to my recent ex because he’s the only one who would actually talk to me. It just sucks being put in this situation over and over and over my entire life. Sorry for the pity party, I just want someone to understand my frustration. And I’ve never really told someone all of this before. I didn’t want to go too into detail about my experiences because that would just be too long and extremely personal than it already is, so sorry if its sort of vague too.  So enjoy people, this is my story. And a big burden feels lifted off my shoulders.