I've never told anyone my story. But I just feel like telling someone who is willing to listen I guess. So I am 14. Yup. I'm young and I might not have it as bad as it feels but whatever. So I grew up in a nice neighborhood, in a nice house with two parents and one brother and one sister. I had some good friends and a particular best friend that I now wish I hadn't become friends with. She got meaner and ruder as we grew up. My family started having money problems and my parents constantly stressed about it. My friend and my birthdays are days apart. So we were exchanging gifts and I didn't get her what she wante because it was too expensive for us. So my friend called me poor and that hurt so much. I still liked her for some odd reason. I was a much better friend to her than she was to me. So anyway fast forward to 6th grade. My parents start fighting and my mom keeps staying out late and not calling us to tell us. She and my dad got into multiple fights. I was the only one at home now because my siblings were much older and have moved out. I would fall asleep crying as my parents fought. I thought in the back of my head that they would divorce but I never really expected them to. Well one night my parents took my brother and me out to dinner and when we went back to our house, they told us the news. My brother got furious and stormed out. I just sat there and cried. My parents tried to comfort me and I pretended I didn't care. But honestly I wanted to storm out too. How could they do this to us? To me? They called my sister and told her. I don't remember much of sixth grade really. The thing I do remember was becoming depressed. My friend stopped hanging around with me because I kept trying to talk to her about my parents' split. I couldn't talk to anyone. Not my parents because I just wanted to cry into someone's arms and yell about how much life sucks. My mom decided to move to the city where she worked which is about 45 minutes from where my dad lived. We sold our house and moved into an apartment. It was arranged that I would be with my mom every other weekend. I honestly hated going to my mom's. It's not that I hate my mom. It was just that every weekend I was there my mom got hammered. She would drink a 6 pack of beers every night. I hated going to the store because my mom would always buy her beer and I would dread going home. She sometimes forgot to feed me dinner and would forget where everything was. It was horrible. She would pass out in her room. Those times scared me the most because I couldn't wake her up. One time I got sick and started vomiting. I tried to wake my mom to help me but she wouldn't wake up. It was just me and her like this every weekend. Some times she would want to go somewhere and I repeatedly asked her if she was good to drive. She said yes but when we got on the road she drove horribly. I prayed and prayed we wouldn't crash. One time we hit a pole and I started crying. I lost a lot of faith in God during this time. Why would he make my parents divorce? Why wouldn't he stop my mom? Why wouldn't he help me? I had no friends and my dad always worried about money. I often thought about suicide through all of this. I planned it multiple times. I even had a date set in seventh grade of when I would kill myself by. I hated going to school because I had to act happy when I wasn't. The summer of sixth grade was the worst. I spent every other weekend at my parents' houses. I had to endure a week of being lonely and crying myself to sleep. My mom started dating someone without telling me. She would go out to see "a friend for an hour or so" and be gone for hours. I would try to call her and she wouldn't answer and I would worry. Eventually she decided to become sober and we moved in to her boyfriend's house. She spends more time with him than me. It's okay. I know I'll never be as close to my mom as I once was. I'm just glad she's sober. So with my dad it's a constant struggle with money. Also he has a woman friend that I absolutely despise. She is bossy and controlling. I ask my dad a question and she answers. I start telling them a story and she interrupts. I hate her. I've told my dad I don't like her and he sees her do this to me yet he continues to invite her over. She's even called me useless and makes me cry almost everytime she comes over. She calls me fat and scolds me. I don't get why my dad likes her. A few months ago I cut myself while I was taking a bath. I did it over and and over and couldn't stop. I cried as I did. I finally understood why people do it. It makes you feel empowered somehow. I put bath salts on it to make it hurt even more. People think I'm happy but I'm not. I'm antisocial, heavy, have no real friends, and I annoy people. I escape into music and drawing. I am happier than I was before but I'm still not the happy carefree 6th grader I used to be. I've gone through a lot and I have the scars to prove it. So don't call me weak. I made it through 3 years of pure hell. | |
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And jog outdoors as often as you can. Jogging always helps.
Ana
~Nick
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