About me...

It all started my ninth grade year. I met this guy, and I was forced to sleep with him. I couldn't say no, because if I ever did, he would abuse me whether it was physical, emotional, or mental. I found out I was pregnant, but I was so scared to tell him. When I did, he threw me against a wall and punched me over and over again in my abdomen. I ended up losing it from the abuse and stress I was under. We ended up splitting up and not even a month later, my mom got sick. We didn't think anything of it, but then she turned yellow. A month later, she was sent to Oschner (?) in Louisiana. When she got there, they told us her liver was dying rapidly and that she had not even a day to live at this point. I went to talk to her, and she didn't know who I was. That broke me. They found her a liver within 17 hours. Everything was fine, but I wasn't. I began cutting, to the point where I didn't care who saw. I had to do it then. I began starving myself around this point. I had band camp and I kept passing out, so my band director called my mom and made her come get me. I weighed 98 lbs so my parents shoved food down my throat. I hadn't eaten anything for about two months except a cracker here and there, so my body rejected the food when I actually ate. Around September, I was put in my first facility. I was only there a week when they released me. Around December, I began drinking so bad that I would drink at school. I got expelled for someone snitching and got sent to the alternative school. Around this time, my medicine completely stopped working. I think it was the second week of January that me and my mom got into a heated argument. I beat her so bad, that she wasn't recognizable on one side of her face. My step dad called the cops and I was in JDC for 2 weeks then I got sent to State Hospital for 3 months. When I got out, I began popping pills. Sometimes 4 or 5 of different kinds and multiple of each just to get "out of this world". My 11th grade year, I began hearing voices and seeing people. They would talk me into stuff like killing my step dad. I never did but I came close until I snapped out of it and realized what I was doing and told my mom. I was put BACK into a facility that year twice for that and cutting. Everything seemed to be fine after that until the medicines wore off and I began drinking and popping pills again. I would do anything to get a guy. Anything. Needless to say my mom put me back in a facility. That was fine because I LOVE facilities! they're my safe haven I guess you could say. (This past year) My now husband was away at boot camp for the Navy and I started cutting again. Went back into a facility (not my choice this time either), and I ended up taking myself off my medicines. It's been 4 months and I'm steadily declining. I can tell a difference in myself, and its really bad. My thoughts are back and worse than ever. I just want to find ways of coping rather than medications. Anyways, thanks for reading his if you did!     xx