I mean I could sit here and tell you every excuse in the world as to why I've done the things I am about to tell you about and that's actually exactly what I am going to do. After all, they are excuses right? I have talked a little about this in a recent post but for those who missed it, I will say a few of them again.
It started when my parents got divorced when I was in the fourth grade. My dad took it really hard. After a while he got a younger girlfriend who was jealous of his litttle tiny 9 year old daughter, so he stopped showing up to get me. My stepdad who I adored turned into an alcoholic. At age 11, this big 200+ lb man tried to molest me while I was sleeping. I have never been good about talking about my emotions and this time was no different. I didn't tell my mom until over 13 years later, many years after she finally left him.
My mom is an amazing mom, after my stepdad got lazy and stopped working she worked several jobs to care for all of us. She has always been there for my sisters and I, she would never judge us. We knew that, I just still didn't know how to talk to people about my problems. It was easier to keep them to myself and deal with it alone, at least that's what I thought was best when I was younger. I thought of my stepdad as a dad for awhile so what he did really fucked with my mind. After a few years my real dad started coming back around. He was the dad that I remembered, after all he was the first man that I fell in love with (in a father-daughter way). I was always a daddy's girl so I was so excited to have him back. By this point though I was a teenager. I had my first real boyfriend and it just wasn't cool to go stay with my dad every other weekend when I had fun stuff to do with friends.
One weekend my dad was supposed to come get me. I told him on a Thursday night that I wasn't coming that Friday evening. My boyfriend was more important at the time. He got upset, went to a friend's house and got super drunk. Friday morning at 5am my aunt called to tell my mom that he had died from drinking and driving. If I went with my dad that weekend, he more than likely would not have gotten so drunk. In my 13 year old mind, I killed my dad. I've never told anyone how I felt because it wouldn't change my mind. It still doesn't, I don't think he would have drank so much had I went. Maybe he would still be alive. All of that for a stupid boy. I was in so much shock that I went to school anyway.
That same stupid boy seen me hysterically crying at my locker with a crowd of people standing around me to give me a hug, he kept walking to go smoke a cigarette in the bathroom. To think I stayed with him stupidly for another almost 6 years.
I just wanted someone to love me. I had no idea what to do at that point. I didn't know what to do with all of these emotions that I had kept inside or how to deal with the depression and anxiety. So I made some bad decisions. At age 13 I turned to sex, drugs and alcohol. I became anorexic/bulimic and the worst in my mind was the self mutilation.
Pretty sick, right? Only some demented little fuck would get enjoyment from cutting themselves, right? Those are just a few of the scars on my right arm that have stayed around all these years later. Surprisingly, more people have done this than you would think. You just get really good at hiding it from those same type of people that are judging me right now. People should not be afraid to reach out for support and they need to know that they are not alone. That's why I am sharing this story. Even with the judgment, if one person can know they aren't alone than I have done my job.
Each year 1 in 7 males and 1 in 5 females engage in self harm. Nearly 50 percent of those who engage in cutting have been sexually abused. Approximately two million cases are reported annually in the U.S. Recent research indictaes that self harm typically occurs with other mental health disorders such as
- Anxiety disorders
- Substance abuse
- Eating disorders
- Depression
- Conduct and oppositional disorders
Everybody who has ever cut themselves for longer periods of time will tell you that it is a high. It is just like drugs, you get addicted to the rush. Ironically, it will instantly take away any pain and release the worst anxiety attack. It is not okay to do though. Looking back I know this now, I wish I had reached out to my mother, to a friend, to anyone...
I used to smoke joints before school while waiting for the school bus and take clear liquor in a water bottle to school. My ex and I broke up every other month for months at a time and I searched for someone to care about me. I got used by so many people in the process that were just taking advantage of my vulnerability.
Around the age of 18, I got into a huge fight with my stepdad. Over what you ask? A gallon of milk. He was drunk and thought that I had drank the rest of the milk that was left. We ended up throwing a few plates and forks at each other and eventually he got up and pushed me down. I fell over the side of the chair in an awkward position and kicked him in that big round belly of his.
I packed up whatever I could fit into a clothes basket and as I walked out the door I screamed, "There is still milk in the fridge, you fucking asshole!" I then moved in with a friend for a while. I used to think that giving myself to people would make them like me, it didn't. I got a lot of attention but not the kind I was looking for. I thought that drugs and alcohol would help me cope better, it didn't. If I made myself skinny by never eating and throwing up after I finally did eat, maybe someone would like me. Do you see the pattern here? They all involve the wrong reason for happiness. I wanted society to like me and accept me. I searched for happiness in all the wrong places. I should have been searching from within, searching for what made me happy.
I finally left my ex for good after I turned 18. He was abusive and I finally had enough when it got the point that I had to strip down naked after work so that I could have my body checked to see if I was cheating. This started out as a "joke" and then this turned into an everyday joke.
It wasn't until I met my now husband when I was 19 that I finally found someone who actually cared about my day, who truly wanted to get to know me, the real me. He used to text me every single morning, "good morning, beautiful." and later followed by, "how was your day?" Not the typical, "when we hanging out again?" that I was used to before him.
I was so far into being anorexic when I met him, I never ate. I was a beautiful weight but I wasn't happy. He showed me that I was beautiful. Not just told me, he showed me and made me feel it. He got me to be happy with my size and happy with who I am. He is probably kicking himself in the ass though because now I never stop stealing his food, lol! He showed me that he wasn't going to judge me for cutting myself but it was something that I didn't need to do and so I stopped. I needed to be happy with myself.
That was the last time that I ever cut myself. It's small but was deep. Scared the shit out of me because I never did it in a suicidal way. Truthfully, I didn't like it. I knew it was wrong, I knew it was sick. I knew I mentally had a problem and I hated trying to hide it. It was just the only thing that I felt I had to make me feel better for so many years. It was my only way to cope. My mom tried to get me help after my dad passed away. She tried to send me to an amazing therapy place just for children. They had horses and open fields to help children cope with life issues. I have always regretted not going when she offered it to me. Stupid stupid girl I am.
I still don't know how to truly deal with my anxiety. I still hold a lot of my emotions in and my anxiety takes over. Life is certainly not peachy keen for me right now but I have my scars to remind that I need to love myself first before I can love the world around me. They remind me that I am strong and I will make it through this. I now reach out to people even if it is a quick conversation. Something that I wish I knew how to do when I was younger.
I am not happy that I made any of the choices that I did. I understand it makes me sound crazy but this is reality, this is out there in the world, this is real. I am now able to share my story and let people know that they are not alone. I am here to take what was once my weakness and use it as a strength. I can send motivation and inspiration to the world because I've been there. Although we each have a different story, there are some people standing on this side of the fence that need to know someone is here to listen. Someone who truly understands how they feel.
If you are a parent, let your children know that they are loved and supported. Let them know that they can come to you and talk to you. Remind them that they need to love themselves. As parents, we can do our absolute best and sometimes it isn't enough but we need our kids to know these things. My mom did her absolute best to remind us of those things, I just don't know why I didn't listen. When my sister was around 14, she wrote a letter to my mom and left it on her bed. The letter explained the was addicted to ecstasy and needed help. My mom got her the help she needed. I wish that I was as strong as my sister because her life is amazing now.
No matter what title you are to someone, let people know they can talk to you. Always be kind because you never what someone else has been through or is currently going through.
I am a stronger person because of my past even though it doesn't seem like it to me. Right now it doesn't seem like it to me because I have been through hell and back even after all of this and I am still learning to take control of my feelings. I am happy to be able share this part of my story though and remind people that they are not alone. I am happy to spread kindness when I can. You never know how much one small act of kindness could change someone's life for the better. Some people can deal with bad things in life and let it not negatively affect them. However, plenty of people are like me, being like me doesn't mean making the exact choices I have made either. Like I said, everyone has their own story. This one was mine...
You are not alone. Reach out to someone and don't be afraid to share your story if you feel like you want/need to. We can not change one single thing we have done in the past, we can only learn from it. It is part of us, part of who we are today but our past does not define our future. Stop caring what the world around you thinks and be happy with who you are. I read something the other day that really got me thinking about all of this. It said, if an egg is cracked from the outside than the life is over but if an egg cracks from the inside, the life has just begun...
Now that I have made it to the end, that beloved anxiety has kicked in. I feel like this should have stayed in my diary but that would defeat the purpose of what I am trying to do by sharing my story. I've already wasted a few hours of my life on this post and shed a few tears so here goes nothing. As that challenge says that is going around Steemit, you can either love it or shove it but this is me, this is who I am.
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