Here We Go

Well, I don’t know how to exactly go about this. I’ve never told exactly what happened to me to a lot of people….but I guess I can start now. This may be long to some people and for that, I am sorry. If you don’t want a sad story about a dying girl, I would move on. Well….here we go.

I was raised in a small town in the midwest. I’ve gone to the same schools my whole life. My life was good. Everyone’s is for awhile. Then, something changed. 6th grade changed everything.

I had always been bullied. By a girl here and there, a boy tripping me in the hallway. Just little things. But one day, in 6th grade, something inside me snapped. I broke. I was so young. And all it took was the wrong girl.
At my school, the bulling was never serious. Nobody was ever really beat up or called names. Nobody but a small few. Me and my friends were those small few. I was an easy target. I have only been small. But, easy target or not, I was not a COMMON target. Then, early one month in the school year, a girl decided that I wasn’t picked on enough. She made my life hell more than anyone in the school had ever done to anyone. She pushed me, pushed my things out of my hands, tripped me, pulled my hair, spat in my face, called me names. And I was only in 6th grade. I was young. Then I snapped.
I hit her back. And I was the one in trouble.

My parents lost it. My mother didn’t know what do to with me. My dad had been out of a job for over a month and things were tough. There was usually never food on our plates. I was scary skinny. And my dad took his anger out on me and my mother. I was scared for once in my life. Scared to do anything. One night, I was laying in bed, and a voice in my head said “You’d be better off dead.” And I believed it. That night, little 12 year old me self harmed for the first time. And I haven’t stopped.
My dad abused me and my mom for a little less then a year. Things changed. But I still wished I was dead. I thought about suicide everywhere. I went against my parents. I was a lost girl looking for love anywhere I could. And I found what I thought it was.

I’ll call him Keith here. It’s not his real name….but it makes it easier for me to tell the story.
I thought I loved him. But he was nothing good. I wasn’t allowed to see him. I was 13 when we started dating. He came in and out of my life. He would leave town, then come back. Our love affair went from October 2011 to July 2012. I was 14 when everything was finished. He was about 3 years older. I wanted him because he made me feel alive.  Yet he took my heart and threw it into the trash like I was nothing. He mentally and emotionally abused me to no end. I was fat in his eyes and my scars were disgusting. So I stopped eating. Then when he left, I figured he left because of my scars. I thought I was already so gross, why should I stop?

Awhile later, I found someone else. And He (I’ll call him Matt) treated me like a queen. For awhile. Except it was Keith all over again. Emotional abuse. Some physical abuse. But I gave my virginity to him and I can’t think in my mind whether I regret it or not. I was 14 at the time.  He left me for another girl, someone much prettier. The night he left, he told me that I was worthless and that the only reason he ever dated me was because he felt sorry for me. That the only reason I had any friends was because they all felt sorry for me. Then he took all his stuff and walked out. He walked out October, 2012.

I completely stopped eating. All I did was cut and sleep. My mom and dad separated in January of 2012. My mom took it out on me. My younger brother spent most of his time at my dad’s and I was in bed most of October 2012 to January 2013. My mom became a drunk and would walk in, yelling at me all the insults that Matt had spit at me and more. That it was my fault that Matt and Keith all left and that it was my fault her marriage hadn’t worked. I didn’t speak anymore. I was silent. I kept a towel under my bed covers and I laid under my covers, self harming. I finally tried suicide December of 2013.
Nobody was home so I wrote a long note and went to my bathroom.
My mom came home early.
I was in therapy for a long time. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, major depression, and major anxiety . By February 2013, I was out. My legs and arms were still covered in scars and always will be but I was somewhat better. I went to the school dance with my best friends as a “We Love You” type of thing. And this time, I did it.

They say that 3rd time is the charm. Their right. That night, I met a guy who I have now been with for almost-soon-to-be 4 months (we didn’t actually get together until April) and he has never abused me in anyway. He is actually perfect in my eyes. I have beautiful, supportive, helping, caring, funny friends. My family is doing much better. I was actually glad I reached my 15th birthday in March. I’m happy, for the first time in a long time.

But….something is still clawing at the back of my mind. Like I missed something. Something is still wrong with me. I lose it at night, when I’m all alone. I break down. I cry. I self harm. And then regret it in the morning. I don’t know what’ s wrong with me. I think I’m just broken. I think I’ll always be broken. Shattered. All the horrible flashbacks are like a slap in the face. It cuts to the bone. I still wish I were dead. I still think they would all be better without me. Yet, I help all my friends with every single problem that they have. They need someone to listen, to talk , to help them with anything, they come to me. And sometimes, it weighs on me. I eat more then I used to but not a lot. Those names still echo in my mind. And when they do, I stop eating for days. But I’m happy.
But I’m really not.
I’m not sure what I am anymore.
All I know is that I haven’t stopped my self harm. And I do anything that will hurt me. I just want to die. Happiness does nothing to me.
I don’t know.