My life

Everyone likes to think that I grew up so happy but in reality I was anything but. I grew up being the youngest of three sisters and both of my parents were alcoholics and they would physically abuse each other and my three older sisters. I was never targeted because I was the baby. My parents drank 24/7 and when they wouldn’t drink my mother was like a empty shell and my father seemed normal when he wasn’t drinking he was more enjoyable to be around. In school, I was a target. There was this small group of girls who bullied me  from kindergarten till my freshman year of high school. One of the girls tried breaking my arms, the others would spread rumors about me, and all three of them verbally threatened me and thought I should do the whole world a favor and committ suicide. I grew up being the outcast, I was too skinny I was too ugly I had no friends. I literally couldn’t go to anyone for help. I was tormented at school and I’d go home to yelling, screaming, and fists being thrown. At the age of 4, I was molested by my uncles stepson who was 17 at the time. I was molested in my older sisters room while my parents were home but guess what? They were too drunk to even realize that something was wrong with me for the rest of the night. I’ve kept this secret with me till this day and I am going to be 19 next month. Also, that year I was in a car accident with my parents and one of my sisters, which resulted to my sister fracturing her collarbone. My mom was under the influence and was charged a felon in child endangerment or whatever. My parents missed my 4th birthday because they were both in jail for domestic violence. Overtime, my depression got progressively worse and I started experiencing anxiety. I would have panic attacks to the point where I would blackout. The only time that I was ever at my happiest was when I was drawing, writing, singing, or being with my older sister Crystel. I was attached to her by the hip she was my mom when my own mother couldn’t be one for me. Then, when I got older like 11 years old I was very curious and intrigued by death. I wondered what it would be like to die and to have my own funeral. At the age of 12 I joined cheerleading but I became an even bigger target to not only girls but guys as well. My crush told me to my face that I was truly ugly and that I needed to lose weight. I was 105 lbs. but I began to starve myself and within a couple months of starving myself and when I had to eat I would making myself throw up I weighed 98-97 lbs. I also began to sneak into my parents beer and smoke my mothers cigarettes at the age of 12. I also started cutting myself. There was something about it that became addicting I was addicted to hurt myself because I was made to feel like I deserved it because I wasn’t pretty enough or I was skinny enough or I wasn’t a good daughter or my parents didn’t love me enough to stop drinking. I felt like I was nothing to everyone. Before I turned 13 my sister and I were finally taken away from child protective services. We lived with my aunt for 6 months and I was horrible. I basically had that mind set like fuck you fuck everyone and I shut everyone out. I even got into physical altercations with my sister because she wanted to help me open up and I didn’t want to. I went to therapy for those 6 months and it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulder. When I finally went back home I was very bitter towards my parents because for half of my life they chose their addiction over my sisters and I and then they wanted to be my parents when I was already 13 going on 14. I was bitter that it had to come to the point where I had to be physically taken out of my home for them to see that they were being selfish. It was very upsetting to me. My freshman year of high school I attempted suicide by trying to overdose on sleeping pills. My family friend who I grew up with for 13 years walked in on me and made me throw them up. During this time I did have a boyfriend but I hid my secret habits really well from him up until my family friend reached out to him about me needing help. My sophomore year I found out I was pregnant...I was fourteen years old. My parents wanted me to abort my son but I couldn’t do it. I chose to keep my son and my parents accepted it and helped me raise my beautiful baby boy Landon. In a way, my son saved my life because if I had never had him than I’d be the exact same way that I was before and I would’ve probably killed myself. I still experience depression and anxiety especially a lot more now because my sister Crystel passed away in 2014 from cancer but the only thing that is keeping me from giving in to my demons is my son and I thank god for bringing him into my life even if I was so young. My son saved my life