Where To Begin...

I grew up as a child of divorce. My parents separated when I was very young and that caused the custody battles that ragged on until two months before I turned 18. I lived with my mom for most of my life. She wasn't the best influence. There was always another guy, always someone she was screwing. I witnessed unhealthy after unhealthy relationship. This is where I got the bad habit of lying. When I was younger my mother told me lying helps keeping things fun in life. When I was in third grade my mother moved us to Pennsylvania to live with a man she met on the internet. He had two boys of his own and that entire family was filled with psychopaths. His youngest son started molesting me when I was 14 and when my moms boyfriend found out about it he tried it too. When I wouldn't let him he began to beat me in regular intervals. Eventually, my mothers boyfriend and his two sons all signed up for the army. It was finally my mother, my brother and myself. When she started her old habits of many sexual partners. She would leave me by myself at home while she was off selling her body for money or drugs for weeks at a time. It would get so bad that I would have to track her down when they would shut off the power.I was the one in charge for those weeks on end. I had to grow up very quickly, my mother was never a parental figure. More like a child I had to take care of.
My older brother was very into drinking and smoke weed. I started very young...I think the first time I smoked I was 12? After that my middle school years and my freshman year in high school were filled with a slew of drinking and marijuana. My mother finally got the bright idea to move back down to Florida ( where we are originally from) after my freshman year was over. Although it meant I got to see my father more, things didn't get better. We moved in with my mothers parents ( I don't even consider them family anymore). They were very abusive from the start. Yelling at all hours of the night, keeping me up till 4 am when I had to wake up for school at 5 and they still expected me to make straight A's. They were manipulative, and abusive on many levels. They would make us go hungry and hit me. (They never touched my mother I always protected her by finding a way to put the blame on me. I had to protect her.)
I got back into drugs because my mother would give me her pills to sell so we could eat. Then would have me buy them for her. Eventually I figured, if she was so dependent on them there must be something great about it. I got into pills and coke and a few other things pretty heavily. The next few years are a bit of a blur. Filled with abuse, drugs, fake friends, horrible memories I like to block out, and lying to my father. I met a guy right before I turned 16. I thought he was perfect. He showed me love and how I should be treated for all of 2 weeks. Then he started abusing me. Making me have sex with him, hitting me if I even thought of saying no or it wasn't what he wanted. Making me do drugs with him when I didn't want to. I finally got out of that relationship, when the girl he was having sex with behind my back (but not abusing her for some reason) he mother found out hold old he was and had him arrested. I was finally free.
Then comes more of a blur until about one day when my grandmother had kept me awake screaming until 4 am. She had busted my lip open in the process. I decided to skip school and go to my friends house so I could sleep. My mother called my father because she realized that I had left my backpack at home when I was supposed to be in school. When he found me I opened the door with a busted lip and he took me then and there to his house where I still live. Then came the horrendous months of sobering up. The withdraws were horrible. I was a ***** to everyone and I realize that now that my two years clean and sober is fast approaching.
I eventually got diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and clinical depression. I realized that a lot of my drug problem was me trying to self medicate my disorders. I still have my moments. I stopped cutting as well, it's been about 9 months since I last put a razor to my skin trying to inflict harm. Recently even though my life has been exceptionally well, ( I've graduated high school, started college with a scholarship, and have an amazing job and boyfriend with a full family that supports me) I always fall back into thinking the same things...sometimes suicidal. Sometimes just self destructive, I have no idea how to get out of this slump...
kh0106 kh0106
18-21, F
Dec 12, 2012