When I was four, we moved to North Carolina, which is what I really consider my first home. It was a nice, simple life until the divorce. My dad moved out, and my mother became an alcoholic. I was only around seven years old so I don't remember it very well, but I was somewhat aware of the problem she had.
We moved back to Massachusetts, to the city both of my parents grew up in. The custody schedule was very confusing for my parents, let alone two children.
My parents resented each other since the divorce, and if ever they were in the same place to pick up/drop off us kids to the other parent, it was hell. I was eight years old and no one was helping explain things to me, and my parents were always so burnt out and bitter, that I'd act out.
My dad and brother picked me up from school when I was in third grade and I opened the car door while it was moving. I don't know why I did it. My dad immediately stopped the car, of course, and a neighbor who had noticed called the police on me. I was forced into a stretcher and taken to the hospital. The next day, I was transported to a place for disturbed children. From 8 to 11 I was forced to take medications including Abilify and Prozac (excessively strong drugs for a child to be on). They turned me into a fat zombie. I didn't have friends because I was never allowed to fit in.
From 8 to 14 I have been suspected to have, or actually diagnosed with:
PTSD
Depression
Oppositional Defiant Disorder
Anxiety
Autism
And so on.
Of course, I don't think these are all true.
As I have said before, I never really had any longlasting friends. I was even bullied a little for being different. Kids would accuse me of doing things I didn't do just to get me in trouble, and call me names, and not include me in games and activities.
When I was eleven my mom got full custody of me. I moved in with her and her boyfriend. They had just bought a house together.
I really started to become depressed in seventh grade. It was at almost thirteen that I became suicidal. I have never told anyone. Until just now, I guess.
When I was fourteen there was an event that happened in which my mother was violent to me. A month later, with my father's encouragement, I reported it to DCF and my dad got full custody of me.
Then high school started. I was initially excited, albeit stressed from many new changes in my life. But I soon found out I still didn't belong. I was so depressed that I missed days and days of school. And then in May I was told that my mother got arrested. She stabbed her boyfriend, who was like a third parent to me. I am still shattered by this. I have not seen my mom, or him, in 2 years now.
Well, school absenteeism caught up with me and I had to repeat freshman year. The whole year I felt like a complete failure. I wasn't behind academically, but I needed a certain amount of credits to pass.
In January my brother told me he was suicidal and internally, I was freaking out. So from February to April he went to a psych hospital four times, I believe. He was pissed about it, and I felt bad about it, but at least he was in a place where he couldn't hurt himself. So every time he came back home I was so scared. And I remain scared. What if while I'm at work he hurts himself? What if he goes on a walk and hurts himself?
These worries run through my mind every single day.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. Please note that this is all very personal and I am going to wish I hadn't posted this.
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