I feel the urge to share my story, possibly in hopes of relating to someone on here, and mostly to get it all out there. I’m trying to change my lifestyle, and I feel a huge step in doing so is letting go of the past; and figuring out why I do the things I do. This is a pretty long story; but I’ll try to simplify it; but I am approaching 23 - and I learned most things the wrong way.

Before I was born my mother (let’s call her A) married my Father (let’s call him R). My mom came from a wealthy home; my father the complete opposite. A and R were under the impression they would never have a family; why? A had a huge cyst on her ovary and had to have surgery leaving her with only one. Somehow A got pregnant and was very happy; R on the other hand didn’t really want children. Through the whole pregnancy; even after having a sonogram R was sure I would be a boy; even though the doctors confirmed I would be a girl. So once I arrived a girl; he was thoroughly disappointed. Not even two years later my parents were divorced.

I don’t remember ever having a “normal family.” I was always going from A to R; bouncing between two homes. After the divorce R was living with his parents. I was mostly living with A but seeing R on the scheduled days. R got remarried when I was 3 and A never remarried. A compensated by buying me whatever I wanted. R just didn’t seem to care. The only reason it seemed like he wanted visitaion was to make A unhappy, and to verbally, sexually, and physically abuse me. When A suspected foul play — the abuse changed. R wasn’t stupid.

R and his second wife (let’s call her C); ended up having a daughter when I was 5. This time R seemed happy. Growing up he refused to take me to any of my sporting events or girlscout things. I’d have to miss half of any activity I signed up for because of this (resulting in me quitting any team event). R went to all of my sisters sporting events, anything she wanted he bought for her. I was extremely jealous because I didn’t understand why I couldn’t do the things I wanted to do; and why I was always called mean names.

When I turned 13 I attempted suicide for the first time. From what I remeber I didn’t actually want to die — I just wanted to cut all contact from R. I was admitted to a hospital where I stayed for a week or so; and they ended up putting me on anti-depressants and a whole bunch of other medication. Unfortunately for me the medication effected me badly I gained over 100lbs in a year. I also lost my best friend in a bad car accident that year. I tried commiting suicide two more times; and than realized I wanted to live.

My version of life after that consisted of tons of medication; and the introduction to drugs. Marijuana at first, then alcohol, then my addiction to cocaine started. That’s right 13 and addicted to coke. I ended up putting myself in some really scary situations and experimenting with sex. I always thought that if you had sex with someone they’d love you. It felt like love but only for a few minutes. I let older men take advantage of me — because I thought that’s what I wanted. I feel like that period my body was a shell; I didn’t feel anything; and once I started to feel any emotion good or bad I’d just do coke. I ended up going to juvi a few times between the ages of 13 and 16.

I don’t know what changed me at 16; but I decided —To Be Continued—