I guess I could finally tell my story on here. I’ve been posting on here for a month, and I still never got out why I’m got so fucked up in the first place. Now, I don’t claim to have a bad life, just a fucked up mind and an inability to deal with what I have experienced.
I grew up in a pseudo-Christian home. By that, I mean that my family was picture perfect in Sunday service and fighting on the way home. My parents dragged us there but never really lived any of it, and I hate that about religion. So much pretense. Don’t get me wrong though, I am still a born-again, believing Christian. God and I are just not on speaking terms at the moment. I just may be a little pissed with Him for the fact that I exist. Anyway, so we’d go to church on Sunday, and every other day of the week was Hell from my birth on. My older brother, Nathan, was very abusive to my mother and I. To me sexually, physically, emotionally, verbally and to my mother, all but sexually. I got all of it for as long as I can remember. Luckily, somewhow, my mother stopped the sexual abuse when I was still pretty young. I’d be so much more messed up if I was still getting raped in my teen years. It was a terrifying place to live. My life was threatened everyday, and even my parents couldn’t protect me. My other brother, Aaron, tried for my first six years, but he joined the military and high-tailed it out of that shit-hole when I was six. He’s 13 years older so, he hasn’t been a big part of my life.
I spent a lot of my childhood at friends’ houses or at church. I never told anyone about the abuse, because I didn’t really know I was being abused. I guess I didn’t realize how wrong it was until college. I hinted at church, but they basically told my I was making it up and that I should stop whining. I guess, for the longest time I thought it was just what I deserved. Like there was something so wrong with me that I deserved all that pain. I have hated myself my entire life. My family hasn’t helped change that either. My brother’s nickname for me was fat *****, and my mother, he called ****. He told me I was worthless, ugly, fat, talentless, disgusting, etc. I believed him, and I still do. If I’m worth anything, then why have I been treated like shit my whole life?
In eight grade, my mom almost died. She had perforated diverticulitis (colon problems) and went through a few surgeries. It was hard. My parents, who already hate each other, only got more angry toward each other. Probably because of maxed finances. I had to help take care of her, which I didn’t mind. It just hurt to think that my only loving family member could die (my dad and I don’t really have much of a relationship). All that on top of abuse at home and being treated like shit in middle school too. The guys used to push my into lockers. They’d find out who I liked and have him pretend to ask me out just to laugh at my hopeful expression. They’d run into my on purpose and then pretend to vomit, because I was apparently to repulsive. Most of the girls didn’t want to be friends with me. I wasn’t super girly. I didn’t really get into doing my hair or wearing makeup or the color pink. They called me a lesbian, but I’m not. I felt so worthless, like I didn’t fit anywhere.
In tenth grade, I almost died from kidney disease and then later, from blood clots in my lungs. I was diagnosed with lupus which is a chronic illness in which my body sees my organs as enemies and so my immune system attacks them. I may never have children. I could have a “flare” up at any moment and die. There’s no cure, no known cause, and no way to predict what will happen with it. Once I found out that I almost died, I had PTSD for like a week. I don’t remember anything. My mom says I just rocked and cried. Funny, now all I want is death. That same year, three months later, my mom was in the hospital again with appendicitis. They found cancer through the surgery. They gave her 25% chance of survival. She’s been in remission for 4 years now, but it wasd terrifying while she got surgeries and went to appointments. I felt like my world was crashing down. All the while, still being abused at home and ridiculed at school. I had friends but none I could talk to about this stuff.
In twelfth grade, Nathan died of pneumonia. It destroyed me. The last thing he said to me? “I hope I die, so I never have to talk to you again.” Wow, what a prediction. He was dead a few weeks later. I guess his body just couldn’t handle the alcoholism, drugs, obesity, and violence. I forgot to mention his many arrests, his expulsion from high school, his alcoholism, his drug use, and his inability to keep a job or pay his credit card debt. I can’t lie. I gave up on him right before he died. When he said that to him, I just lost it. And I regret that more than ever. The last time I saw him alive, we were taking him to get medication for the swine flu. I ignored him, and stewed in anger beside him. I should’ve said something. I just didn’t know it was my last chance. My grandparents stopped talking to us after his funeral. Said they didn’t get enough attention.
I spiralled downward from there. My family was falling apart. I got an eating disorder. Starved myself and purged every chance I got. I lost 4olbs. Started cutting when nothing else and no one helped. Almost committed suicide two februarys ago. All this while going to college with no fucking idea what to do with my fucked up life. I started pre-med, switched to social work and am nowÂ music major. Last year, my youth pastor, who was kind of my stand-in father, was killed in a crazy random car accident. It destroyed his family and my entire church, my family. I got a little better, trying to honor him, you know? But then last may, my friends decided I wasn’t good enough for them anymore and ditched me. I was so alone. I couldn’t tell my parents. One, they had enough going on, and two, it’s embarrassing to admit people just hate you for being you. So, I suffered in silence all summer, cutting and purging. Then I moved away to a new college for music. It was good at first. I made friends.
And then I fell in love. It was a movie-like romance. We held hands lying in the grass, looked at the stars, and told our deepest secrets. We went on spontaneous dates and kissed in the woods. We made music together and wrote love notes. He told me he wanted to marry me some day, that he loved me and would never change his mind. I believed him and let myself fall for once in my life, even though I knew better than to trust another person. About a month ago, he changed his mind. He told me that never cared about me and doesn’t now. That he made a mistake in ever being friends with me let alone dating me. That he doesn’t want me in his life at all. All suddenly, in the middle of a choir tour we were on together for spring break. I can’t escape him. He’s in all of my classes as a music major himself. I see him all the time, and it break my heart.
I have never felt more worthless in my life. I’m just so fucking sick of being treated like I’m worthless. I mean, does that mean it’s true? I guess, there’s this part of me that thinks maybe I have something good in me, but people keep treating me otherwise. I don’t know what to do, because all I want it out. If I’m so worthless, I just want to die. I don’t think I can take anymore heartache. And nobody gets me. I’ve been struggling with severe depression my entire life, and I’ve never told anyone. My church/parents are against counseling. I’m in at college now, but they don’t know. But I can’t tell her that I want to die. She’d lock me up. I don’t know what to do. I’m in so much pain, and I have no support anymore. My ex was my rock, the only one who took the time to listen. And he must have hated what he heard. I’m nothing.