my story… well so far

there is so much i have to say and i don’t really know where to begin… so i’ll try to start from the beginning. i don’t really remember ever being very happy. i spent the first five years of my life with a father who did and sold drugs all the time and when and if he came home he was abusive towards my mom. i don’t remember this but my mom told me that he pushed her down the stairs when she was pregant with my youngest brother. we never really had much money because my mom couldn’t work with all of us being at home. there was six kids and one sometimes two adults living in a small four bedroomed apartment. i shared a room with my two younger brothers and my mom up until i was six. i always did well in school because thats what i thought i had to do and it was so easy to do. my mom kicked my dad out when i was five, and he took my older sister and brother with him because my mom wasn’t theirs. soon after my dad moved out, he got a new girlfriend even though he was still married to my mom.i never really liked his girlfriend but she took more care of me and my youngest brother than he did. i watched him beat on her almost everytime i went to see him and i knew i had the choice to go see him or not… but i always went. sometimes he didn’t have much to eat and i would find random things for me and my brother to eat. i found it difficult to  go to my dads house but yet i couldn’t stop. at home things weren’t much better… my mom eventually went into the hospital when i was in 5th grade because she had mental issues and i wasn’t allowed to see her for over two months. when my older sister, my two younger brothers and i finally got to start seeing her, she looked so much older and worn out than she had before. i missed her so much and i wasn’t allowed to see her. i hated the people that kept her away from me. i cried myself to sleep almost every night. we then moved to another apartment which had one more bedroom. when i was in second grade someone else moved in with us… he was a cab driver and my mom took a liking to him. i liked him at first but my sister didn’t… he wasn’t her dad so she didn’t have to. he had anger problems and he wasn’t really good at controlling his anger. he was our care taker when my mom was in the hospital. we weren’t allowed to tell anyone that she had gone there so i kept it a secret. i still kept going to my dads house and my sister that lived there started convincing me to do things i knew was wrong. she got me to start shoptlifting and when i found out that i could do it and easily get away with it i found that i couldn’t stop.so when she did it i went with her and i never told anyone that she did it because she told me not to and i listened to her. i, as a ten year old, watched my sister be pysically abused and i no longer knew if i liked the person who did it or not. i don’t know if my mom remembers any of that but the man who moved in with us was very physical (he hit her a lot) with my sister and she hated him even more than she had before. she couldn’t understand why i liked him and i didn’t know if i did or not… i was confused. he yelled at me and my two younger brothers a lot but he never laid a hand on us… only my sister. she started acting out about the age of eleven and my mom couldn’t handle her. my sister went out and got herself into drugs and alochol. so the only people i had were my two younger brothers… they didn’t understand what was going on. one night i was called something i didn’t like by the guy and i went and told my older sister, the one that had lived with my dad what he had called me and she told my other sister… they got mad and went off on him. well that caused chaos in our apartment, things were being thrown between my sister and him and i hated it. i stood in front of his door and tried to keep him from coming out to do anything else to her… he didn’t try to move me. my mom came home to stay while we were beginning to move into our new apartment. she had been diagnosed with schizophrenia. she slept all the time and i rarely got a hug from her… she couldn’t stand to be touched. i rarely saw her awake or eating. one thing i remember my mom say is that if the guy ever placed a hand on any one of us again he would be gone… i remember this because he did and she never kicked him out. my mom wrote me a letter one day and she apoligized for not being the mother that she should’ve been and that she was sorry that she didn’t hug me at all. she also wrote letters to my brothers but i didn’t know what they said and i never asked. i tried so hard to be happy and be strong for my brothers. eventually my mom lost custody of my sister and she was sent to live with her dad who didn’t want anything to do with her and didn’t care about her because she kept getting in trouble. i hated coming into the house every day and seeing my mom asleep on the couch. i wrote a letter back to my mom and i gave it to her. she asked me later if i wanted to go see someone for my problems… i didn’t know how to answer so i just said yes. so i began to see a therapist and i was diagnosed as depressed. so i saw that therapist for about a year and then she left unexpectedly and i was thrown over to another one. i was afraid to talk and i couldn’t say anything. just a few weeks ago the other therapist left which was after another year of therapy… i found myself getting worse and i didn’t realise that i had began to have sucidal thoughts. i attempted sucide for the second time about two weeks ago. i haven’t tried again but i was going to about two nights later after my second attempt. i now feel terrible almost all the time and i always want everything bad to end but it won’t. i hate that sometimes i don’t feel anything towards my family, which has always kept me going. i have to see a new therapist now and i don’t want to deal with any of this any longer than i have, which has been over ten years.