Another story to the burning pile

Hello.

I have returned after over 2 years to this place where I have kept my thoughts and feelings in what is a private, but public place, in it’s own way. A type of blog, specially for people like me. This place has helped me and others so much, and sadly I must admit once more I have returned for it’s much needed support.

I was formly ‘LastLove’, but have since lost my account/email/password, so I won’t be retrieving my old pieces any time soon, so quickly I’ll add an overview of my, well, ‘problems’ as they may be called, my story, one of many.

I was sexually abused when I was 11, 12 and 13 years old; by someone I trusted, a friend, a kind of early version of a relationship or lover.

It took me years to open up to the fact this had happened to me, and when I eventually managed to build up the courage to tell those around me, I was knocked down even lower. I was told I was lying for attention, because I was ‘upset’ he had abandoned me after he had had his own pleasure, that my account was based on the truth but twisted for my own benefit.

But, before that, I found out I was pregnant. This was when I was just 12, only past a baby myself, I was expecting one. Despite my age, I decided, may it be an awful or fair way, that I would keep my baby. I didn’t want to lose this little life in my life, even at such a young age I found such a connection with the fact that I had a life growing inside of me, a small life which could one day see and breath like myself, someone who I could protect. I don’t know how at the time I thought I could manage this, as I now see I could barely look after myself.

Despite my best efforts, my lack of knowledge on how to care for my body in this state and also by my very young age and feeble body, I experienced a miscarriage. Never had I known such pain emotionally and physically as the thing I had been basing my thoughts around for what seemed like an eternity feel from me.

So, as the days got longer and worse, the secret of my little one hanging around my throat and the abuse of those around me to a small girl who had not yet reached her teens had forced to her to grown up. Old before her time, I truly believe after that I was not a child, maybe not even a teenager, I was a young woman when I should have been by right a child, a little girl.

The stress had caused me to fall into a deep depression, sleep was my only escape and this added to troubles in my home life, being told I was faking it to escape school by my carers and such, which I can tell you know made me lose the last bit of hope I held out for the support of those around me.

This is hard enough to talk about, so I shall cut to the result. To this day I have been attempted suicide 3 times, and have been battling with self harm for 4 years. For the last 6 months, I have finally managed to escape my carers and taken hold of my own life, finding myself professional help and have been taking medication, which make me feel alot better, thou dark days still come. Like today, hence why I am back here.

I am simply updating this account in a much shorter issue of my other account’s posts. I am here again, and looking at the lengths of my dark times, I might be here to stay.

Hello, I’ve missed you all.