I just read this and it's really long and stupid, but I worked on it for a long time so I have to post it for sure now..
I was probably about
five years old when I realized my family was different than the others in my nieghborhood. We lived on a very nice street with very nice nieghbors in Seattle. My mom, dad, brothers, and I all lived in my grandparent's basement. Upstairs it was a happy and bright place, but downstairs it was just a lot of drugs and fighting. I remember my dad "cooking" on our coffee table while I was asleep on the couch and the glass got to hot and shattered. I cried, he laughed. A few years later, we were on the run from the police and ended up in Arkansas when I was 7.
When we moved to Arkansas, we immediately turned into trash. I was running around town when I was 7 by myself. My dad was take us to the bar with him when he didn't have anyone to watch us at night. After a lot of beatings, my dad trying to push my mom off a building, and murder my brothers and I, we escaped. My mom's boss helped my mom with money and plans for the trip. I was at lunch one day and the principle came and got me and we were on our way back to Washington ten minutes later. We were free.
The next year of my life was the best year I ever had. We lived with my grandparent's in a smaller town in another perfect nieghborhood. The only difference was, we didn't have a secret life hidden in the basement. We were happy, too! The biggest worry in my life was falling down while I was roller blading. We were straight out of Pleasantville. Then my daddy showed up.
We moved into an apartment in another town with my dad. Another bad neighborhood. It was in the fourth grade that I really started to get depressed. I was always in trouble because, I was always finding my dad's needles. In old coats, in his truck, in cabinets, etc. Apparently when you find strange, sharp objects, you're not supposed to question what they are. This went on for about
2 years and everyday I was more and more depressed.
My dad decided he couldn't live with us anymore and was going to drive back to Arkansas when I just started the sixth grade. My brothers escorted him just in case he decided to try and kill himself on the way down there. He did that a lot. To trap my mom. He would 'try to kill himself' to get my mom back. It was weird. When my dad left, even though my mom and I were still in the same apartment, the neighborhood seemed to get better. My father has that effect though. He can turn anything bad. We soon moved back in with my grandparents. My brothers came back a year or so later. I missed them so much.
After they came back, we had to move into a bigger house. After maybe a year, my dad came and found us.. again. It was the same story, there's really no need to repeat it and drag this out longer than it needs to be. After awhile, my mom kicked him and when he started stalking my mom and I we got restraining orders and the police patrolled around the house every night. I was so depressed at this point and I started cutting myself and throwing up everything I ate. Then my gramma was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and died about
3 months later. My life was falling apart. I think the first time I tried to kill myself was around this time.
Soon, my mom met my stepdad and there was some more stalking happening with my dad and such. They got married and I moved in with him, my mom, and my stepsister. We hated each other. We were complete opposites. I had friends, she didn't, I was thin, she was large, I was outgoing, she sat in her room and ate. She had no idea that my whole world was upside-down so she tried to make it hell. It wasn't until I was in inpatient for my bulimia that she realized I wasn't as cool as she thought. She finally stopped trying to make my life hell.
It was too late though, I hated that place. My best friend and I moved in with my brothers and became alcoholics. All we did was drink and I met new friends. They indroduced me to cocaine. I had to real interest in food, and I had so much energy. I was thin again. It wasn't that cool. One day, it was weird, I just stopped. That had to of been God. I didn't withdrawal symptoms, no cravings. I just... stopped. I wasn't happy though, I was still in and out of the hospital. Not for bulimia this time though, I was just very suicidal. The first time in, they diagnosed me with bipolar type II. It didn't matter if they figured out what was wrong with me though, I would stop taking my medicine as soon as I would gain a few pounds.
The rest is just kind of a blur of partying and one night stands. I met my husband and I got pregnant with my daughter. We moved into a cute little perfect house and had an almost perfect little life. One morning I woke up to my house burning down. My husband and I were upstairs, and my two year old was downstairs by herself. He got downstairs somehow and got her out of the house, but I was stuck. My house was burning down and I was going down with it. After calling 911 and pretty much telling myself this was it for me, the fire made it upstairs. I decided I didn't want to go down like that and squeeeeeeezed out of a tiny attic window. I was out of the house, but stuck on the roof. I am extremely scared of heights. I would have rather ran through fire than jump. Two random like eight foot tall guys showed up and attempted to catch my, but I ended up on the ground. Then I watched as my entire life burned to the ground.
I haven't been the same since. My ups and downs are getting more and more extreme. I have flashbacks. I get up multiple times a night to make sure my daughter is ok. My husband amazingly hasn't left me yet. Somehow he puts up with me being a freaking psycho. I love him for that. I just need to get the courage to tell him that I need help. I'm not sure if he'll be up for it. I don't think he'll understand.
-- I edited your post due to Forum Rule #1
1. No discussion of any illegal activity or threats of violence. (ie. illicit drug use, including medical marijuana use, threats of suicide or self-injury, or threatened or intended physical harm). Discussions of suicide or self-harm that are deemed negative and therefore potentially injurious to others are also not permitted.
Post Edited By Moderator (olivia of course) : 4/3/2009 2:01:00 PM (GMT-6)