My Story

I’ll try to cut the bulk and give you guys the gyst, but it is hard. I have been battling suicidal thoughts and self-harming for over a decade. I never thought when I first started this, that I would have my own place, a growing family, and still be struggling with the razor.

Anyway. I’m an only child from a one parent family. My dad is as strange to me as people I have never met before, and I am okay with that. He wandered back into my mom’s life for fun occasional sex when I was 12; that’s when my battle began. When I self-harmed then I kept hoping he would catch a glimpse on the few seconds I said his greetings before retreating to my mom’s bedroom and he never did. I don’t know why I would want him to see the cuts, maybe he would realize he hadn’t had anything to do with me for so long, why would he need to try now especially since I’m crazy.

Years went by, the relationship ended and soon I was in high school. Still regularly self-harming, I had now discovered drinking and cigarettes and the combination of those two things numbed my need to hurt myself. I met a boy, and he treated me nice. To this day I am still not sure what didn’t work between us, or why we broke up. We remained very close throughout the rest of my high school career, and then I met a boy who would change my life. He and I met in the end of my 9th grade year, and he was beautiful. He played hockey, wore the best clothes, and had the beautiful hair flippy-ness that would make most any 14 year old lose her mind. By the end of the summer, he was mine. We were happy. Throughout the next year he discovered my secret addiction, and stayed with me throughout my first and only stint in the mental ward and was my backbone when people started abusing me at school. His friends did not approve of me. I wasn’t into sports, or getting my picture taken or being a huge part of high school. I wore a lot of black and my friends did too; we liked to be different and avoid the norm. He didn’t seem to care too much, he cared about me. I ended up dropping out of school when the bullying and abuse became too much for me and I almost had my nose broken by girls pushing me into lockers. All was well, he and I had never been happier, until I went unattended to one of my friends’ block parties. I was drugged, gang-raped and left behind. I woke up the next day with no recollection of what had happened, except for the fact that my pants and underwear were torn. I ran home and immediately told my boyfriend what had happened, he was infuriated. At this point, I was ready to commit suicide.

Shockingly, we made it through that too. Within 2 years more, I was raped 3 more times. He started to grow tired of my “lies” and my “infidelity”. I tried to explain to him that I never once wanted these men on me, I forced and I fought; one of them was a wrestler and easily two times my size. It wore on us, it wore on me. I felt that I was only good at one thing, and that was sex. That maybe that is why men wanted me, and didn’t want me. They just wanted some of me to show their friends about and then never wished to talk to me after that. Eventually my boyfriend cheated on me and got another girl pregnant, and I didn’t feel like dealing with that along with the fact that he was still sure that none of the rapes I had claimed were rapes. It took a long time to move on from him. He and I used to drink heavily almost every night, and I missed it. He and I had even spent a night in jail together because we got drunk, he tried to get me to have sex, I said no, and he got violent, so I got violent. We beat each other to a bloody, swollen pulp.

I had relationships after him, but nothing seemed to click. Nobody really understood my emotional baggage, and they really should not have to. I was 18. I should not have this type of baggage at 18. I should be carefree and ready to make mistakes and ready to meet new people; all I wanted to do was sit around and drink or hurt myself. When I was 19, I met a boy who went to the same high school as I did. He was goofy, he made me smile, he was a dork. He made all the hurt go away when I wanted it to, but he acted so strangely around me. Eventually he and I made things official, and we started off so strong, so in love, so everything. He tried so hard to win my heart over and he did just that, in such a quick time period. I finally thought that my life was making a turn around, but I was wrong.

He was there for me emotionally, but lacked on the physical aspect. He knew what I had been through, so I figured that he was just being respectful, but he wasn’t. He finally told me that he was addicted to internet porn and he hadn’t been able to tell anybody that. I realized how badly this hurt me, and how badly it hurt him. We swore we were going to help each other through this, and that he would not have to watch this anymore. That I would be there for him, mind body and soul, and that the addiction wouldn’t rule our relationship. Soon, we were expecting a baby. A baby girl. There had been numerous times before and during my pregnancy that he had resorted to watching porn instead of being intimate with me, and I figured it was because I was huge when I was pregnant, and maybe the idea of sex when I was pregnant freaked him out. I let it go.

Our daughter is almost a year old now, and nothing has changed. He lies, and when I catch him lying he throws things, he throws me, he bashes his fist through the drywall. I have tried to leave, but don’t really want to go to a homeless shelter or any kind of shelter really. He is a good dad, so I have to give that to him. Throughout the last 10 years, my self confidence and self esteem has hit rock-bottom. I have some highs, but mostly lows. Most of the time I find myself on my phone wishing I had someone to text, someone to talk to, someone to make me feel like I’m worth something more than this. So far I haven’t found friends, my personal life is the absolute worst and the only thing keeping me going is my daughter. There is a part of me that wishes I could forget about that, and just get suicide over with instead of pretending like I’m not suicidal. 3 days ago I took a bunch of Norco, but of course, I woke up. I’ve self-injured to the point where I hoped and thought I may bleed out, but I was wrong. I have been debating drinking bleach but with my luck I will drink an entire bottle and just end up throwing up, or having my stomach eaten through by the chemicals.