Damaged From The Start*Very long, but first time sharing my full story online anywhere. Had a lot to get off my chest. Sorry for how long it is!!!*
I'm damaged. Was from the very start. I was born with high functioning autism with a speech impediment, learning difficulties, and social awkwardness. Always worked so hard to be able to talk right, being bullied for messing up in school. Scars left from the insults of peers no older than 10, just cause I slurred my words. Than special ed didn't help with being bullied. No friends backed me up either. I was a true outcast at the age of 8.
Than, my brother made it worse. At 9, he started raping me. He was only 12. I know what others would say, he had it rough himself to be taking it out on me at such an early age. I don't know if he was abused or not. I only know that I was for 6 years. I ended up liking it. Looking back, I hate myself for being honest. I wish I could lie, wish I could forget. I ended it while at therapy. We aren't there yet though.
At 11, I caught my father with somebody else. My parents were still together. Not for too much longer. He cheated, my mom had left him than. He abandoned my brother and me for a year. No presents, no cards, no visits. Disappeared. I cried. He was my dad and he left me. He did come back, when we needed him. My brother and myself moved in with my dad who was living with his dad and stepmom (our grandparents), my mom was going off the deep end. It didn't last long though. My mom had gotten a trailer in a park, we moved in.
I started having issues. Started feeling alone, feeling depressed, feeling suicidal. I started dipping my fingers into wax in candles that were still lit. It hurt, it felt good to have a release. I started tempering with more and more. Ended up cutting my legs and burning them with cigarettes. Didn't want anyone to know, so I hid them. My mom, however, did find my suicidal poems and my X rated journals of my adolescent love affairs with older men. Needless to say, I ended up in therapy quickly. She didn't even attempt to try and talk to me, just away we go to therapy.
I can't remember how it was brought up, what caused my break down. I don't know what made me finally spill the beans on my brother and me. I didn't write it in my journals just in case they would be raided. I hid it well. I didn't want him to get in trouble. I had been in therapy for awhile at this point. I was about 15 at this point. It was a hard week. I went into social services or wherever, and they made me give them details upon details about it. They had a clear case that it was true. They had all they needed. My brother was sent to live at his friends for a bit. My mom cried and cried, I wanted her pain to stop. I took it back. Said it was a lie. I wanted her to be happy again.
She sent me to a mental hospital that week. I was experiencing some suicidal thoughts, but wasn't acting out on them. Was cutting, but never too deep. Always actually had hydroxide and cotton balls ready for afterward.... (Well besides for when I was in the hospital, ironically, staple from a pamphlet on something stupid). While we were driving there, it was raining. We stopped to get drinks. She told me there that she had stopped loving me, had given up on me, and wanted me gone. I still cry when I think of this.I knew she meant it, looking into my eyes as she spoke it.
I was homeless for a bit at the mental hospital. Normally it would've been 3-4 days at the hospital, but since I was homeless, it lasted for about 2 weeks. It was a much needed vacation and still look back on it and smile. The doctors didn't help at all. Medications were the same as I'd been taking beforehand. But the aides, the ones who were responsible for doing stuff with the patients while there wasn't therapy to go to, they made the difference. As well as just being away from hell. Away from my mom who was disowning me. My dad who was now with another person than the one he was with when I was 11. My brother for all of this began. Everything. Gave me time to think, time to reflect on what had all happened, everything.
My dad finally did pick me up from the mental hospital, with my mom with him. They both yelled at me when I got out. We went to my moms, where I was living before the hospital. Picked up my stuff. It was the last time I saw my mom or brother until my grandmom's funeral a couple years later. A week later, got settled into my dad and his girlfriend's place. We were drinking. He let me drink since he knew I would anyways, why not in a safe environment type of thinking. It was my dad, his girlfriend, and myself drinking. We had a bit, got rather drunk. I told him the truth. He cried and asked if I wanted to press charges. I said no. I knew he had believed me that it had happened. It felt good to have one person who actually believed me. No one else did.
I bare deep scars from all that has happened in my childhood. I feel deeply that I'm toxic. I've hurt all my friends that I have or have had. I've cheated on every single relationship I've been in. I have the scars from the cuts and burns. My mom in her blog never mentions me at all, never even acknowledges me. I'd rather her hateful comments than her silence at this point. My brother is the same, no contact at all. I fear Billy Idol's White Wedding.. "Hey little sister, what have you done?" Look up the lyrics and you'll know why. It rips into me when I listen to it. No contact with either since my grandmom's funeral in 06.
Yet, its not all gloom. If this all hadn't happened, my father and me couldn't have been this close. Since those days, I have never cut myself again. I have relapsed a few times and have burnt myself with cigarettes. But once every year or so. Not like what I was doing. I still get cravings every once and awhile to find a razor blade. But it goes away. I do bare scars, but I try to make the best of what has happened. Life can be cruel, but it has its moments where you find the joy in the little things. Watching the sunset with a loved one. Playing with your pet. Going to movies with friends. Simple things that are beautiful moments you'll look back on and cherish. I don't have many friends, but the ones I do have are wonderful and when I need a shoulder to cry on, they offer. Be happy for the happy times to be had and have pasted. Don't always look into the past and dread. I still remember when I had the worlds best brother who played in the mud with me when I was 5. The mom who made me specialty vegetarian meals when I was a vegetarian for a few months. The dad who sang along with me at the top of our lungs to Eve 6's Inside Out as he drove me home from school. My childhood sucked in many aspects, but it had its moments that I look back on and smile. Pennsylvania's Hershey Park with the 4 of us, my mom and dad were still together, and my brother and me hadn't happened it. It was the happiest I ever remember being when I was a kid.