My Story

I grew up with my mom, and her alcoholic boyfriend who was always getting tossed in jail for one thing or another. I pretty much raised myself because my mom was never there for me, and I hated her boyfriend with a passion. Growing up I didn’t think my mom gave a damn, because no matter how much I acted up in school, getting detention everytime I turned around, she only signed the paper and went on with what she was doing.
When I was 12 my mom’s boyfriend molested me. I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me, but one thing I can say is at least she did, but when I was 14 she ended up marrying him.
However when I was 14, my best friend’s brother sexually assualted me, but I didn’t tell anyone, because my own friend didn’t believe me simply because I had a crush on her brother.
When I was 15 I went to live with my aunt and uncle for the school year. Things were alright, though once again I was the victim of molestation. This time my uncle’s friend. I was ashamed, wondering what was wrong with me, that people wanted to do these things to me. At this time I have already went through a nervous breakdown, and suffered from severe depression. It didn’t help that at the age of 13 I became seriously overweight.
I moved back in with my mom after my sophmore year, and her husband lived there as well. However he left me alone, other than his bullshit of trying to run my life. One day he started running his mouth and when I said to leave me alone he got in my face, threatening to hit me. I told him if he did I’d knock him on his drunken ass. I was 16 at the time, but he backed down and left me alone.
Other than going through hell with school things were good until my 96-97 school year. I was supposed to graduate, but due to failing English I wasn’t going to. Because I knew I would be the only grandchild that my Grandma would see graduate I went back the next year. My mom’s husband kept putting me down, calling me fat, lazy, fat ass lazy *****, and stupid. However I ignored him, and spent my entire time at home locked in my room.
I graduated in 1998, and moved out of home that summer. October 26, 1998 I got a boyfriend named Steve. At first he was sweet, but after my daughter Deb was born he became abusive. 21 months after Deb was born I had a second daughter.
Steve spent every penny he would get on cars, or drugs. There were times I would have to borrow money for diapers for the kids. Due to his jealousy I wasn’t able to work, or go to college.
February 22, 2002 my children were taken away, because for over a week I was deathly sick with a bad case of the flu and Steve refused to clean. I would have done it, but I could barely move.
Though I fought hard, I have never gotten my girls back. It pisses me off to see parents who ignore, abuse, or just generally treat their kids bad. I would go without food so I knew my daughters could eat. I gave my kids all the love they could ever need, and then some.
In 2003 I left Steve for good, tired of the abuse. Since then I’ve been through heartbreak after heartbreak. Things are going better now, but I still fight with severe depression, as well as other medical conditions. Namely kidney problems due to ODing on sleeping pills in an attempted suicide.
Now I live with a wonderful man who respects me and loves me for who I am, for just being. Yes I still have suicidal thoughts but I know it isn’t worth it, that I still have some kind of purpose in this messed up world.