I'm Sick Of It..
When I was six, I was raped for the first time. He was fifty. It went on for four years. Four painful destroying years. I've never been the same, I was bubbly and always happy. When I told he went to jail, and admitted to it, but when he was bailed out, he called me a liar. He just seemed to disappear into thin air.. my mind forced away the memories, and I never knew what happened to me, I only knew that I was sad. At eleven I started cutting. They started off very shallow and tiny, like scratches, on my belly. They eventually got deeper. By the time I was thirteen, I was also cutting on my wrists and legs. Worse, the memories came back. They came back in nightmares and flashbacks. It was very hard for me, and my parents eventually told me what happened. They told me he committed suicide because he couldn't live with himself after what he did to me. I didn't think of that the way they did. I felt like I killed someone and I should have kept my stupid mouth shut. If I didn't say anything he'd be alive. Later.. I found out it happened to my younger cousin as well. That destroyed me. Then I was angry at myself for not telling sooner.. because then I could've saved her. I was going back and forth but blaming nobody but me. It was killing me on the inside.. Utterly painful. The emotional pain turned into physical pain, my chest would hurt and I wouldn't care about what was happening around me, only inside me. I took everything out on my body. I burnt myself with lighters and stove elements, I started smoking, I cut more frequently and deeper, I ripped out my hair. I was fourteen. I began to see myself in a terrible light. I thought I was fat, and ugly and worth nothing. I began to starve myself, and I made myself throw up. I worked out in the mornings and at night, whatever I could to make myself feel good. In reality I was just feeling worse. When I was fifteen I found out that actually a gang my step dad was involved in killed the man. I was raped again. At a party because I also started to drink and do drugs to get over my self hate. It didn't work. I was only 95 pounds, 5'7, and fifteen years old. I did ecstasy, weed, I drank a lot. I was just stupid. I ended up being admitted into the hospital. I was there for a month. I started eating again, wasn't as suicidal, and things were looking up. They let me out and I tried going back to school, but it was to overwhelming. To much people and to many noises. I had to drop out. I failed grade ten. The pills I was taking made my anxiety worse.. which I didn't think was possible. I had social anxiety as well. I started getting suicidal again.. two weeks after I was out of the hospital I was back in. I had jumped off a roof. This time I was there for almost two months. My cutting had gotten bad, my scars will never go away. They changed my medication and I can say I feel I am getting better. I don't want to kill myself any more and I haven't self harmed in three weeks. I celebrated my sixteenth birthday last month, and next month I may need to go back for more treatment just to be safe. I'm still in recovery, and everyday is a battle.. but I do think it will get better. My recovery is taking a downward spiral. I was raped last week and I may have syphilis.. I miss my blade.. I'm scared. But I hope I can do it.. I have family that supports me.. but I'm not sure if I can support myself for much longer.. I need help.