My Little Life Story

Hi everyone. Well a little about me, I was born to a 16 and a 17 year old couple, their relationship didn’t last, so I was raised by my mom. When I was 2 my dad came back in to my life and I would go and spend the night with him every now an then at his mom’s house. When I was 5 me and my brother spent a month with him during the summer. During that time I was molested by a man who, I guess was a family member of my step grandpa. At first I knew it was wrong, but as it continued for a while, I started to believe it was ok. Some time after he was gone and it obviously had stopped. When I was about 7 my mom and her boyfriend had got into an argument an it had became physical. They were on the bed and he was choking her. Me and my brother tried everything to make him stop, we hit him with bats, pans, golf clubs, anything. He finally stopped and we all left. I told my dad about what happened and my mom got very angry at me, she cried and yelled: “Why did you tell?! They’re going to take yall away from me!” I was mad at myself for telling and kept everything to myself. When I was about 11, in 6th grade I realized how wrong it was that I thought what was done to me was ok, I was/am angry at myself and hated myself for ever thinking that it was ok. When I was a 7th grader I became friends with this girl, who liked girls. And we became MORE than friends. She was one of those kids who always got in trouble. I began smoking weed and cutting myself because I was so confused with my sexuality and my Grandma is really big on a relationship is between a man and a women so i knew it was wrong.One day my mom had drove from my Grandma’s house drunk, I had confided in a teacher and wrote her a note about what had happened, plus I added in there that I had thoughts about killing myself. The next day I had a conference with the teacher and a counselor about the drinking and arguing and me wanting to kill myself. A few days later a CPS case worker had came to see me. We talked about everything. My dad’s lawyer sent my mom a letter taking her back to court to get custody of me and my brother. My mom blamed me for everything that happened. My mom would talk down on the teacher that I had confided in, which hurt a lot. So I cut myself more because of it. When It was the summer going into 9th grade my mom called me yelling at me telling me the teacher I confided in was helping my dad in court to take me an my brother away. And she blamed me more. I blamed myself for what all had happened. To top it off the teacher had moved away and stopped talking to me. Therefore I cut myself more, and myself hate increased. 9th grade i was more reserved and quiet, I didn’t want any one to talk to me, because I hated myself. In December we went to court, and the teacher was there, it crushed me so much. It hurt me so much, I just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before.

Last year (10th grade) I became close to a teacher who is similar to me in a lot of way. I told her about what happened to me because i wanted to cope with what happened without my family finding out. She told our school psychologist, and I started to see her. The next day the psychologist told me she had to tell my mom about what happened to me, because no one besides her and the teacher knew. I was scared and terrified and I just wanted to die even more. My mom and all my family found out, they cried and cried, and I cried. I was angry that they were told without me being ready. The following week I had to go take to a lady, at a child’s advocacy center about what happened. It was the 2nd time I had ever talked about what had happened. I felt like I was put on display, plus they recorded me. The next day at school I became friends with someone who sold pills, I tried different pills an fell in love with pain pills. From then I’d been taking pills almost every day. Now I’m an 11th grader and I think about killing myself more than I ever did. I blame myself for every wrong thing that’s gone wrong. I think I’m stupid and worthless and a waste of space and ugly. To deal with the pain I fill I still cut myself and take pain pills. I want to live a happy life like everyone else, but I don’t think I’m worthy of it. So there’s my little story.