uncharmed life

I don’t even know where to start. I am 27 years old and have never had a chance to be completely happy. I was a daddy’s girl, and my daddy left me when I was 6. My mother quickly remarried a mentally handicapped man -half her age- and they had a baby boy; bringing my sibling total to 4 (that I knew of at the time.) Two older brothers, one twin brother, and the new one. I didn’t fit in. Don’t get me wrong: my mom was thrilled that she had her little girl, she just didn’t know what to do with me.
The only thing I really remember from the time between age 7 to 11 is being sad, lonely and different from everyone else. I spent every night crying myself to sleep, telling myself that no one loves me, I’m fat, ugly, loser, never should have been born; all the normal stuff… I turned to prayer. I tried so hard to believe that there might be something out there that loved me and wanted to help me feel better. I never got an answer and that made me angry. I felt so awkward during that entire time.. like every time I ever did anything it was wrong. I’m pretty sure the other kids thought I was retarded even though I got straight A’s and was in the gifted classes. I never had any friends.
I don’t remember where my mom was as I was growing up, and it still seems odd to me. I only realized it a couple years ago when she started telling us kids that she loved us. (She seemed shocked and delighted that every one of us said it back to her.) I remember being in my childhood home, but I don’t remember her being there. I’m sure she had to have been, though; I know we had rules and a curfew. But, I did feel that I was the one raising my little brother. (He is autistic, by the way.) Maybe I was just ignored?
Later on, my mom slept all day long on the living room couch. She hated her husband and her life. When she was awake she would yell and scream at us. She’d tell us that when she left she wasn’t coming back. My older brother blamed my twin and me, and that hurt… My oldest brother spent his days locked in his room sleeping. Come middle school, I was even more awkward. I took to cutting. I don’t know why I started. I guess trying to suffocate myself in my closet, or fastening a belt tightly around my neck until I turned blue wasn’t satisfying enough. I quickly became addicted. Cutting, for me, was a way to distract myself from the pain of life. There was a short sting, then a beautiful tiny red stream. I could just sit and watch and go numb. I failed PE that year because I wouldn’t change or shower with the other girls.
I met two more older brothers right before my 12th birthday. They were my dad’s kids before he married my mom. One was gay and troubled… the other was troubled and troubling. That one made it very clear to me that he wasn’t interested in having me as a sibling as much as having me in a different way. I was scared and confused, and considering the fact that I had no friends or supportive family, I didn’t know what to do. I decided (on my own) that I would cut communication with him, after he had called my school on my birthday, to tell them that I was going to kill myself.
Freshman year of high school went the same way, pretty much. All the seniors knew who I was because I had a popular brother that had graduated the year before, and the gay brother – who was the same age as him. I was still invisible, though. I had one friend, at least. I knew she was going to be someone I needed when she took care of me the night of a failed attempt. I swallowed a giant bottle and a small bottle of Asprin after cleaning my room for what I had hoped was the last time. I slept for a half hour, then woke up, stumbled to the hallway and collapsed. I was awake, but I couldn’t move, and all I heard was ringing. I don’t know how long that lasted. When I finally got the strength to get up on my knees I crawled to the bathroom and vomited furiously for 10 minutes straight. My mom came home from the grocery just then, and I didn’t want her to know what happened so I called my friend and, even though it was a school night, begged to stay over.
I still did the cutting… a lot. I had a crush on a boy in my algebra II class, and was so bursting with confused, raging frustration that I would cut when no one was watching – even in class. Still ignored; freshman year was a bottomless pit of lonely, anxious, infuriating solitude. I was still crying myself to sleep every night.
I decided my sophomore year that I was going to take a chance. I guess, lucky for me, that boy in the class the year before was having family issues of his own. He was a navy baby, from a broken home with 5 siblings of his own. I ended up being his first kiss, and he mine. Our relationship was stressed because of his overbearing mother. He actually told me that he didn’t want to have sex with me because he didn’t want her to find out! Probably should have waited like he wanted… (or made the four foot trip to my closet for a condom.) the first time we did, I got pregnant. We were 16. Three and a half months later, I miscarried. Never told anyone… never went to a doctor. My friend, that I mentioned before, was mad at me for the loss of my virginity. Her family was really into the church scene, and everything is “off-limits” to that kind. Everything, that is; till you get married… then you can do whatever the heck you want, as long as its well hidden. But, I digress.
So, as time goes by, my anxiety gets worse and worse. I enjoy burying myself in schoolwork, but I HATE being around people. I would frequently daydream about chopping off the other girls’ hair. I couldn’t do oral reports without throwing up, and never spent lunch period in the lunchroom. (I spent it in my history teacher’s classroom with him. I told him that year that I had a crush on him… not in person, of course. But, he didn’t seem to mind having me in class afterward.) I seriously considered dropping out of school. If I hadn’t graduated after my third year, I was NOT going back. Lucky thing I was smart, I guess.
I tried going to a school after, but I was only 17 – not old enough to get a loan, and I was terrified of the thought of driving. You see, I see things that aren’t there sometimes, and it gets scary when you are behind the wheel. Anyway, I got a ride from a kid that passed my city on the way. He was a stoner and didn’t care that he had someone else that needed to keep up attendance depending on him. School was expensive and all the stress tied together to form a horrible gut-wrenching bow. I dropped out. A year later, (still with the same guy from highschool, even though he was a jerk that treated me and my little brother like crap, tortured my cats, and never once defended me against his family…) I found myself pregnant again. I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone because his “mom would kill [him.]” I went from a 5’6″ 190lb thick girl, to an outright “biggie” at 235lbs in a very short amount of time. I wasn’t able to tell my family why I was so fat because we were giving the baby up. In Feb. 2004 I gave birth to a healthy 8lb baby boy in a dirty abandoned garage behind my childhood home. I was alone.
We drove straight to the major hospital in the next big city over, (after stopping to pick up lotto tickets for his mom) and handed the little black-eyed angel to a stranger. I slept the entire day after, and when I woke up the next morning, I called the dad and begged to get my baby back. We told his mom first, and guess what; she wanted to meet her first grandchild. I ended up having to marry him for our case’s sake. This Mother’s Day will be the 8 year anniversary of when my son came home to me.
I didn’t want to be married to that man. He didn’t hit me, but I didn’t like being around him. He has bipolar disorder, and I never knew what mood he would be in. He was always either irritatingly manic, or terrifyingly irate. I left him for another “man” in ’06. He was already seeing another girl, so I didn’t think it would bother him so much… That best friend that I had in high school didn’t like it either. Even though her best friend had gotten pregnant by her boss that was twice her age, where she was stripping; somehow – my wanting to try to find a happier life was worse and she couldn’t be friends with me anymore. Anyway, when things didn’t work out with that guy, I moved back in with my mom and little brother. My older brother had just left his girl, too… so it was the four of us adults and a two year old living in a tiny two bedroom apartment. My mom and I fought a lot. I had started drinking pretty heavily… you see, two years previous I developed a problem with bulimia. I was still dealing with the guilt. And I was attracting a lot of attention with my new 135lb figure. (and don’t forget the daddy issues.. I was having a lot of drunken sex anywhere I could find it.) I ended up moving back in with my ex where I was forced to get my driver’s license at 22. I met “a keeper” that winter, and got my first job the next April… I was 23.
I was good at my job in retail. I still had a huge pile of anxiety problems, though.. and even though my boss knew about it he insisted on pushing me and pushing me until I broke. I was there for two years, and by that time I was doing everything in the store but hr, receiving, and the shoe dept. And of course there was no promotion or raises the entire time. I made less than everyone there – I know because I asked the kids I worked with. I started having anxiety attacks every time I thought about having to go to work. I was still drinking a lot when I could… (The people at my liquor store know me by name, even though I never talk to anyone.) I just stopped going in to work because I couldn’t do it anymore. I had a car accident the day before my birthday that same year. I’ve only been able to drive once since then, and it was because I felt I had to. AND…. I still haven’t been able to get a divorce from my son’s dad, not because we’re fighting, just because things keep changing and I can’t get the right stuff filed.
Now I feel like a complete loser… A drain on my family and the one decent man (that I’m attracted to, anyway) on the planet… I have had lots of male friends (GOD! women make horrible friends… the best thing about them is that they look and feel so good, and that’s it. The only reason I’m not fully gay, btw.) and the latest one is an Iraq war vet… He’s the sweetest most generous guy I know, and we have so much in common… I honestly feel sorry that he chose me for his best friend. My son is super smart, but he has ADHD and I mean, like really; the poor kid was having such a hard time in school. He was suspended five times in 3 months… missed out on the Christmas play, Valentine’s Day and wasn’t even there on his birthday. I pulled him out and we’re doing home schooling.
So… we’re up to now. I can’t leave my house without having a drink first… I mean, I could but Goodness… outside hurts. I found this site because the past couple weeks have me feeling as bad as I do at my worst times… like, the lowest of the low. My man walked in on a bad scene involving me and one of his friends. I was blacked out (which I might add: happens when I drink around people that I am not comfortable around. Two and I’m out like a light… when I could drink a 12pk and half a bottle of rum by myself and not even be bothered.) But knowing that he thinks I asked for something to happen is killing me. I woke up in the tub the next day looking for my knife. I guess he had taken it from me because he saw all the new cuts – which I wasn’t even aware at the time the reason I had done them. He told me I had to sober up. The less I drink the sadder I get, though. A clear head means remembering how much I suck at life.
I went to the bridge overlooking the creek near my house yesterday. Unfortunately, it had gotten late and my little brother wanted company after his recent break-up. He met me on the trail before I made it there.
Today, my best friend calls me from Florida and tells me that his attorney told him that he wont get custody of his son because of something I said.
Drinking makes me OK. I think the only reason I want to stop is so that I can get back to a point where I CAN follow through. Either way, I’m not getting anywhere better.

That was my life flashing before your eyes… obviously I skipped quite a bit. Not trying to bore those that read on too much.