My story.
Posted: Thu Nov 01, 2018 3:38 pm
I’m a fifteen year-old girl. Here’s my story.
My mother dropped out of high school to have me with her high school sweetheart in her late teens. I’ve been told that if she didn’t have me, her life would have been easier. Especially when her sweetheart, my father, became abusive and had a terrible drug addiction, causing him to be in and out of jail. Eventually, my mother put a restraining order on him and took me into her full custody. I was three.
Life was difficult for my mother and I. I spent a lot of my childhood at my grandmother's house, while my mother worked long shifts. We were poor. I knew this despite being so young. I knew she was struggling.
When I was about four or five, I was sexually assaulted. I didn’t realize it until later on in my life. Being touched uncomfortably by my uncle, and then, later on, my cousin, allowed me to feel terrified of people. Believing they were all demons I had to encounter. Blinding me, and locking me inside my head.
She eventually met my step-father, whom I love very much. He, to me, is like a true father. They fell in love and we moved all the way from Washington to Florida.
Skipping forward a bit, My mother was pregnant and my step-father was in the military. However, he had to give it up in order to move back to Washington, so my baby sister could be born in our hometown.
Time went by, and money was tight. I wasn’t able to have super nice clothes or toys like all the girls I went to school with. And seeing this made me feel isolated. It got worse when I changed schools; all the time. I moved to a neighborhood that wasn’t that diverse. I’m a young woman of color. Half Hispanic, half Black. And as soon as I entered this school, I was automatically treated differently. I would make friends, and then those friends would leave me. My social anxiety began to form in 4th grade. I remember crying on my mother’s lap, praying to God that I would make friends. Yet, the pattern of making and losing friends continued, and I became numb to the lonely feeling. Turning my heart into stone.
My family was going through a rough time at the moment too, having to deal with the death of both my cousin, and my grandfather.
It got worse when I entered middle school. I changed. I started to treat my family like crap. My violent outbursts made them think I was going insane. I began to fall into a depression. I began to consider ending my life. There were times where I wanted to run into the busy road in front of my house. I had no help. None.
In my 7th grade year, I made a friend. She was so kind, and we had so much in common. We clicked instantly, and I began to feel better.
We went through the rest of middle school together like the best friends we were. Everyone considered us to be a dynamic duo. It was a happiness I was so unfamiliar with, and so addicted to.
It got better in 9th grade. I had good grades, I played sports and an instrument. And I ended up meeting another girl, who I instantly clicked with. All three of us were inseparable, three peas in a pod.
It was the summer of my 9th grade to 10th-grade year, where I found myself falling apart again. My friends were changing. They began treating me like crap, hitting and swearing at me. They thought it was funny, and that I would find it funny too. I didn’t. I felt my insecurities resurfacing, and before I knew it, I was back to square one. My memories of my cousin and my uncle haunting me, causing to me to fear the touch of others.
I went into my 10th-grade year (my current year) not knowing who I was anymore. I felt so numb and alone, my friend's faces became blurred to me, just like everyone else's. They began to smoke and drink. They started to experiment with boys. All of this was happening while my parents, my mother and my step-father, were going through a divorce. I felt so devastated and livid. I was angry at myself. I began to think that maybe people were right, maybe I shouldn’t have been born. I began to fall back into the depression I had left behind.
I was starting to get bullied again. A boy in my class called me an “ugly black slave” with his friends and laughed. He got in trouble, but it hurt me beyond words. I was humiliated.
Time went by, and I thought things were getting better. Or, at least my friends were beginning to realize what I was going through. They were supporting me. That is until last night.
I went to a party. For Halloween. I was supposed to meet my friends there at 7:00 p.m. “Don’t be late!” I told them. After all, they originally weren’t invited. They couldn’t get in without me. The person who invited me was a guy who had been kind, but to out of reach to become close with. “We won’t!” they promised.
I arrived at 7:00 p.m. and waited. I messaged them, asking where they were. No response. Two hours went by. Two.
I had sat in the corner of that party for so long, I gave up on trying to wait for them. People were looking at me and laughing because I wasn’t like them. Because I didn’t do the bad things they did. Because I looked different. Because I was different. I texted my step-father to pick me up ASAP. I was on the verge of an anxiety attack.
This is when my “friends” showed up. Intoxicated. I asked where they have been for the last two hours. “We don’t know,” they replied, their words were slurred. “We thought we told you we were going to be late,” they said. Their voices filled with pity. “You never said that.” I smiled. I always try to do that when people think I’m hurt. “My dad will be here soon,” I told them.
They apologized, and I smiled and told them to not worry about it. That it was miscommunication.
My step-father picked me up, and I had one of the worst anxiety attacks I had ever experienced.
I’m supposed to be at school today, but my parents insisted I stayed home for a mental break.
I don’t know what to do. I feel so lonely in this little town in Washington. Everyone here is the same, and I don’t know where I can find people like me. I just want to leave. I’ve found no purpose in my life.
To sum things up: my friends have left me, my parents are too focused on their problems to care, I haven’t seen my biological father in twelve years, I’m being bullied, haunting memories and insecurities of my dark past are resurfacing, and I have absolutely nobody to turn to. That is, except for this random forum.
I want to be happy. I want to leave this place. I feel caged as if I’ll never leave. Every day is the same, and it’s driving me crazy. I have no control over what happens in my life anymore. My anxiety is at its peak, and my parents refuse to get me any sort of medication because of the “health issues” it may come with. I’m slowly falling apart.
I want to believe I have a purpose in life, and that it’s somewhere out there. But it’s difficult. I don’t want to give up everything. But it’s difficult. I don’t want to have to do drugs and drink, because I know I’ll try to use it to solve my problems. But it’s difficult.
I’m waiting for when things will become better. But it’s so damn difficult.
Help.
My mother dropped out of high school to have me with her high school sweetheart in her late teens. I’ve been told that if she didn’t have me, her life would have been easier. Especially when her sweetheart, my father, became abusive and had a terrible drug addiction, causing him to be in and out of jail. Eventually, my mother put a restraining order on him and took me into her full custody. I was three.
Life was difficult for my mother and I. I spent a lot of my childhood at my grandmother's house, while my mother worked long shifts. We were poor. I knew this despite being so young. I knew she was struggling.
When I was about four or five, I was sexually assaulted. I didn’t realize it until later on in my life. Being touched uncomfortably by my uncle, and then, later on, my cousin, allowed me to feel terrified of people. Believing they were all demons I had to encounter. Blinding me, and locking me inside my head.
She eventually met my step-father, whom I love very much. He, to me, is like a true father. They fell in love and we moved all the way from Washington to Florida.
Skipping forward a bit, My mother was pregnant and my step-father was in the military. However, he had to give it up in order to move back to Washington, so my baby sister could be born in our hometown.
Time went by, and money was tight. I wasn’t able to have super nice clothes or toys like all the girls I went to school with. And seeing this made me feel isolated. It got worse when I changed schools; all the time. I moved to a neighborhood that wasn’t that diverse. I’m a young woman of color. Half Hispanic, half Black. And as soon as I entered this school, I was automatically treated differently. I would make friends, and then those friends would leave me. My social anxiety began to form in 4th grade. I remember crying on my mother’s lap, praying to God that I would make friends. Yet, the pattern of making and losing friends continued, and I became numb to the lonely feeling. Turning my heart into stone.
My family was going through a rough time at the moment too, having to deal with the death of both my cousin, and my grandfather.
It got worse when I entered middle school. I changed. I started to treat my family like crap. My violent outbursts made them think I was going insane. I began to fall into a depression. I began to consider ending my life. There were times where I wanted to run into the busy road in front of my house. I had no help. None.
In my 7th grade year, I made a friend. She was so kind, and we had so much in common. We clicked instantly, and I began to feel better.
We went through the rest of middle school together like the best friends we were. Everyone considered us to be a dynamic duo. It was a happiness I was so unfamiliar with, and so addicted to.
It got better in 9th grade. I had good grades, I played sports and an instrument. And I ended up meeting another girl, who I instantly clicked with. All three of us were inseparable, three peas in a pod.
It was the summer of my 9th grade to 10th-grade year, where I found myself falling apart again. My friends were changing. They began treating me like crap, hitting and swearing at me. They thought it was funny, and that I would find it funny too. I didn’t. I felt my insecurities resurfacing, and before I knew it, I was back to square one. My memories of my cousin and my uncle haunting me, causing to me to fear the touch of others.
I went into my 10th-grade year (my current year) not knowing who I was anymore. I felt so numb and alone, my friend's faces became blurred to me, just like everyone else's. They began to smoke and drink. They started to experiment with boys. All of this was happening while my parents, my mother and my step-father, were going through a divorce. I felt so devastated and livid. I was angry at myself. I began to think that maybe people were right, maybe I shouldn’t have been born. I began to fall back into the depression I had left behind.
I was starting to get bullied again. A boy in my class called me an “ugly black slave” with his friends and laughed. He got in trouble, but it hurt me beyond words. I was humiliated.
Time went by, and I thought things were getting better. Or, at least my friends were beginning to realize what I was going through. They were supporting me. That is until last night.
I went to a party. For Halloween. I was supposed to meet my friends there at 7:00 p.m. “Don’t be late!” I told them. After all, they originally weren’t invited. They couldn’t get in without me. The person who invited me was a guy who had been kind, but to out of reach to become close with. “We won’t!” they promised.
I arrived at 7:00 p.m. and waited. I messaged them, asking where they were. No response. Two hours went by. Two.
I had sat in the corner of that party for so long, I gave up on trying to wait for them. People were looking at me and laughing because I wasn’t like them. Because I didn’t do the bad things they did. Because I looked different. Because I was different. I texted my step-father to pick me up ASAP. I was on the verge of an anxiety attack.
This is when my “friends” showed up. Intoxicated. I asked where they have been for the last two hours. “We don’t know,” they replied, their words were slurred. “We thought we told you we were going to be late,” they said. Their voices filled with pity. “You never said that.” I smiled. I always try to do that when people think I’m hurt. “My dad will be here soon,” I told them.
They apologized, and I smiled and told them to not worry about it. That it was miscommunication.
My step-father picked me up, and I had one of the worst anxiety attacks I had ever experienced.
I’m supposed to be at school today, but my parents insisted I stayed home for a mental break.
I don’t know what to do. I feel so lonely in this little town in Washington. Everyone here is the same, and I don’t know where I can find people like me. I just want to leave. I’ve found no purpose in my life.
To sum things up: my friends have left me, my parents are too focused on their problems to care, I haven’t seen my biological father in twelve years, I’m being bullied, haunting memories and insecurities of my dark past are resurfacing, and I have absolutely nobody to turn to. That is, except for this random forum.
I want to be happy. I want to leave this place. I feel caged as if I’ll never leave. Every day is the same, and it’s driving me crazy. I have no control over what happens in my life anymore. My anxiety is at its peak, and my parents refuse to get me any sort of medication because of the “health issues” it may come with. I’m slowly falling apart.
I want to believe I have a purpose in life, and that it’s somewhere out there. But it’s difficult. I don’t want to give up everything. But it’s difficult. I don’t want to have to do drugs and drink, because I know I’ll try to use it to solve my problems. But it’s difficult.
I’m waiting for when things will become better. But it’s so damn difficult.
Help.