My Life Story
My story begins before I was born. It starts with my dad and my sister, but mostly my dad. When my sister Holly was 7, my dad began to sneak into her room and molest her at night. She never told anyone until she was 20, but it continued every night. Over the next years my sisters Emily and Abby are born. Then me. My entire childhood, I knew something was wrong with mommy and daddy. It got really bad when I was 5, because that was when Holly told my mom about what my dad had done. After that, he moved out but none of the kids knew why. When i was 9 we moved to Virginia, and a few months later my mom and dad got a divorce. The next week my dad was sent to Iraq to fight in the war. I still didn't know why they got a divorce. The next year, my mom met a guy named Barry. He was a pretty cool guy, and they started dating. That summer when i was 11 I found a suicide story in my sister Abby's room. That was my first encounter with the real world. my mom and Barry were out on a date, so I called my mom and told her she needed to come home right now. It took about 4 hours for her to get home, because they kept on talking over dinner. The entire time I was home alone and crying. When my mom got home I showed her the story. She cried, and so did I. That night I begged her to tell me why our family was so messed up. See, I had been seeing cuts on my sisters arms and Emily slit her wrist and had to get stiches, but no one ever told me why. I was the youngest, so i never got told anything. She agreed to tell me, but she waited 3 days to explain it all. those days were torture. I wanted to kill myself, but I don't remember why I felt so strongly. When she finally told me, I didn't really understand what she was telling me because I was too young for it to sink in all the way. The next few months are a blur. nothing really happened, and I went on living my life as I normally did. However, right before I turned 12, I tried to drown myself in my moms bathtub. It didn't work, and I was scared because I kept coughing up water. Two nights later I told my mom. She was so upset. I was then put in therapy every Friday. I began cutting the next month. It started out as a few scratches, but it got worse. The next year was just a lot of cutting and a few suicide attempts here and there. My mom ended up getting married to Barry. He turned out to be a douche bag. He would hit my mom and me. He would drink all the time, and we finally got him arrested for abuse. My mom was finally able to leave him, so we moved in February my 7th grade year.That March when I 13 I was hospitalized for 10 days. That was because I took a handful of my antidepressants. After that, I didn't cut again for 42 days. but I broke one night and sliced open my arm and had to get 5 stitches. At the end of the summer before my 8th grade year my family moved to Boone, North Carolina. I had a really hard time making friends. I was labeled one of the troubled kids, so I only had 2 close friends. We got in fights all the time. yelling and fist fights. Still I am cutting at this point. In May when I was 14 I cut so deep and hit a vein that I had to be rushed to the hospital for stitches. I was put in another Psych hospital. This time I was only there for 7 days. It is now August and I am 14. It has been 116 days since I have last cut, and I am doing pretty well. I hope it stays this way..