I played a game recently and it sent me spiralling down and I started thinking about my entire life. I'm allowing myself to be completely vulnerable which I have never done. No holding back from Cry (me) right now. Maybe making myself vulnerable will help. 

I grew up in an abusive household. My mum and dad each had a victim and a favourite. My brother was the victim of verbal abuse (maybe physical idk) from my mum while I fell victim against my dad (sexual, mental and verbal). When he got drunk, my brother and I both fell as his victim. When I was 6, my mom snapped out of her abusive ways, realising she was doing what her brother did to her, she was doing to her son. They had a rough relationship afterwards. I remember when I was 6, I was sleeping when I heard screaming and yelling from the basement. I ran downstairs and hid behind my dad (even though he was abusive, I was still his little girl). My brother was swearing and running away from my mom who was chasing him around with a toothbrush that had soap on it. When she caught him, she made him choke. I started sobbing and my dad sent me back to my room to hide. He stayed with me, while we both knew what was happening downstairs. When my dad abused me, he only got places that wouldn't be viewed by the public. But one time he didn't. He choked me. I almost passed out if it weren't for my brother punching him. I had a bruise on my neck. My mom covered it with makeup. Yet I was still his baby girl. He loved me. He gave me stuff. He loved me. 

When I was 7, I heard my dad get up from his room and head to the basement. I got up and followed him. He was on the couch in the basement, on his phone. I cuddled up next to him. He was talking to his girlfriend. I didn't know what that meant. I thought he meant female friend. He told me not to tell anyone about who he was talking to....I agreed. I fell asleep with him, knowing he was cheating, but not knowing what that meant. A year later he went on a business trip to Tennessee. I didn't know why my mum and brother were crying. He was gonna come back...he never did. He left with all our money.

So, we went bankrupt and moved to a small hotel. There were four of us in this one room hotel. Me, my brother, my mum and our dog. The arguments between my mum and brother got super bad. I'd often take the dog out and sit in the lobby. I became good friends with the front desk people. They gave me food from the back. I became their little assistant. I'd sit in back with my greyhound while there was a massive argument between my mum and brother. Then, one day, my brother packed his backpack and suitcase and left. He went to live our grandma (dad's mom). One day, my mom woke up in severe pain. I didn't know why. She yelled at me to call my aunt. So I called my aunt who took us to the hospital. My mom was diagnosed with arthritis and stayed in the hospital for 2 days. My grandpa (mom's dad) found out and scooped me and my dog up. My mom came into contact with my dad and they went through divorce. And while my mom was recovering, having to work 3 part time jobs, and getting a divorce, I lived with my grandpa and his wife. That was when I was in 4-5th grade. Those were the best times of my life. My grandpa would pick me up from school we'd go to McDonald's and get milkshakes and chicken nuggets. I'd always steal the little cherry on top. We'd get to his house and the smell of a dessert slammed you, upon entering his house. A couple months into my 5th grade my mum was able to afford an apartment and I moved back in with her. Near the end of 5th grade, she decided that we should start anew. Leave Colorado behind. Leave the horrible memories behind. So, we packed up and headed up north to the great town of Boothbay Harbor Maine. Where my grandpa was raised. He got into contact with my grandma (his sister) and she let us rent a house she and her husband built. We stayed in that house for a year when we were finally able to move out of a family house. 

I started a new school as an 8th grader, made my first real friends and started to feel alive and like a person and not a punching bag...that didn't last long. One of our friends began to feel jealous. I treated her friends like people instead of punching bags like she treated them. She shifted her anger from them to me. I made her lose control of my friends. She would physically assault me and that sent me spiralling down. In an effort to find some sort of control when I felt like I had no control, I slowly stopped eating. I was eating as litlli as possible during the day, then consume as much food as possible at night only to throw it up later. I began focusing on the calories. I started seeing myself as fat in the mirror. I started wearing hoddies to hide my fatteness (in reality I was hiding how skinny I was getting) to combat the hunger pains, I chewed gum and consumed so much fucking water. But, the gum had to many calories that I would split it in halves and chewed half a piece of gum. I was also cutting and I was genuinely not in a good state of mind. Around freshman year of high school, I found hiphop. I snuck into the studio and watched the teacher teach. I was consumed by it. The music, the mood, everything. The class ended and he called me in. I was caught. We talked and I told him I didn't have money for lessons. He agreed to letting me help in the studio in exchange for lessons. My mom and I agreed. And everyday before and after school, I was there. He noticed that I wasn't healthy mentally or physically. He pulled me into his office and he sat me down. We talked and he helped me realize what I thought I was in control of was actually an addiction. One that could kill me if I continued to starve myself. I didn't believe him, so he showed me the statistics and I started crying. Even though i was suicidal, I didn't want to die. He helped me on my way to recovery. I was still recovering when my mom packed us up and shipped us down to Florida. I was thrown off guard and I started starving and cutting myself again. He kept in contact and we continued my course of recovery.

I was doing good then. I was still under weight by 20lbs, but I knew I was recovering. As I started sophomore year, I was of healthy weight for my height. Of course that's when I was hit with the memories of my sexual abuse that I received for years and my rape when I was 8. I told my chorus teacher, who told the school, who told the police. And thus my investigation began. It wasn't a long one. They talked to me, went to my mom, told her what happened and we cried together. But, the kindness turned into demands. Wanting to know what happened. She talked to my aunt about it, she told her husband and my cousins. It became a big deal in the family. My grandma (dad's mom) threated to kill me if she ever saw me again. Keep in mind I haven't talked to my dad in years. Suddenly, my family was wanting to know in details about what happened, and I spiralled downwards. I again started starving. My thoughts of suicide turned into action. And action turned into failures which made my depression worse. The only people who weren't demanding information was my grandpa and my friends, so I distanced myself from my mom and family, focused on the family I created and my grandpa. 

The torture was killed in junior year, only to start a new one. I was at the state fair, heading back to the car with my mom, when a bigger man came barreling at me. I shoved myself into my mom, in an attempt to get my body out of the way. Sadly I didn't get my left shoulder out of the way and he slammed into me. So hard that I fell and hit my head on the ground. I literally don't remember anything from when I got up to when I got to the car. It was like everything was in slow motion and then all of a sudden, everything was back at normal speed, but it seemed faster. The pain from my head was bad, but the pain I felt in my shoulder suddenly caught up as we were driving home. Like my shoulder was still on the ground, had just then caught up. I burst into tears and yelled and didn't stop crying. We reached home and I couldn't move my arm. It was like midnight (we stopped twice on the side of the road so I could throw up. That's how bad the pain was)  I haven't felt pain like that EVER. It settled a bit and we decided to go to bed because I was starting to feel dizzy. When I woke up in the morning, my arm was numb. I couldn't feel anything from my middle back to my fingers on my left side. Mom decided to take me to the chiropractor and I went every other day to see if I could feel anything. For about a month after the whole incident, I couldn't feel anything and then on the 14th, he popped something and I started feeling some pain. It was like a 5 on the scale. I could handle it with some ibuprofen. I started taking 6-8 ibuprofen a day to mask the pain. Not healthy at all. The pain continued on and getting higher. The amount of ibuprofen increased as well. One day I woke up feeling nauseous, sweaty, cold, and lying down gave me cramps, moving made me cry and cramp. I screamed for my mom who rushed to my room. She helped me stand and I felt a little better. I think I threw up twice that night. I began pacing back and forth because walking helped. Eventually standing and walking became unbearable. Mom was freaking out and I said I need to get to the hospital. I DEMANDED she took me there. So, we got in the car, and drove to the hospital. The hospital is 5 minutes away drive time, it felt like 3 excruciating hours. We reached the ER who rushed me to a room. I had low blood pressure, was struggling to breath, still nauseous. Turns out I was ODing. I took way too much ibuprofen and was showing the first signs on OD. They pumped my stomach and we went over what happened to see if I did it on purpose. My mom finally realised that this was serious. So, we got xrays, and the a catscan. They diagnosed me with tendonitis. 

So off to physically therapy I went. It eventually got better. Things were looking up.

Until last october where my world crashed in on me. See, during my whole issue, my grandpa was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. The man who stepped in when neither of my parents could care for me, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. My world crashed in on me. He was getting worse. He was hospitalised, twice because he hit his head and didn't recall. I was there when he hit his head the second time. He had to get stitches. My cousins had to pry me away from his hospital room and force me into their car. He is my favourite human in the world. I knew he wasn't gonna last long after that...but he did. He was then in and out of the hospital last year. His body was deteriorating and I was too far away to stop it...not that I could do anything about it. A simple cold would put him into the hospital for a week. He was even in a coma for a week once. I thought that was the end. I didn't go to school for that week. He miraculously woke up and was fine.

The 3rd week in September, I woke up and my mom was up. She was Never up before me. My grandpa was back in the hospital with a contagious, disease that isn't curable. The didn't give him much time to live. He was placed in a secluded area of the hospital. Mom made me come with her to work that day, not wanting me to go to school, and not wanting me home alone with my thoughts. Two weeks later.....he passed away and I felt numb. I didn't want to exist or function. I went into a horrendous depression that made it impossible to move. I didn't get out of bed for 5 days. On the 5th day we went to Colorado for his funeral. I was so numb that I forced myself to be cheerful. I didn't go to school for 3 weeks. I'm just glad my guidance counselor was understanding and didn't rush me to get back to school. Not that I wanted too. I didn't leave my bed AT ALL during those weeks we were home. I was his grandchild that he was the closest too. I was the only one to get a nickname (pumpkin and kitten) he got me to love singing, writing, planes, stars, everything. 

This is the vulnerable Cry. Every negative and sad part. Mixed with some happy. There are some parts I left out because they weren't neccenece. My therapist also wanted me to write this out on an online forum to see if that helps. She wants me to read it to her when I see her next. Anyway, if you took time out of your day/night to read this; you're the best. Now, I'm gonna go cry and then pass out.

Yay depression.

Thanks,

Cry