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When I was born, I had an 8 year old sister with a daddy who lived two blocks away, and never acknowledged her until she was 16. My dad left home when I was 5. I guess my mom cheated on him. She had several boyfriends before remarrying again. My step dad was a junkie, my sister was by then anorexic, my mother a functioning alcoholic who was always "away somewhere". I raised myself. I never had to go to school, I never had to do my homework, and I picked my own friends. I was so lost, and all the while thought that that's just the way it is. Eventually my mother kicked my step dad out after trying to stab him in his sleep, and I began spending a lot of time with my grandparents. They sent me to school, and made me breakfast lunch and dinner but, they never understood why I didn't care if my room was clean or my homework was done or about any other thing thing that was so important in their lives. So they ragged on me about it day in and day out until I felt like a complete failure for not being able to take care of those things that came so naturally to the rest of the world. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?!!! So I did the only thing I knew how to... I ran. All I wanted was for somebody to love me and accept me for what I was. I wanted friends, I wanted to surround myself with people who I always made laugh and just loved my company. And I did, I had tons of friends but, none of it helped. I still had so much anger. If these people liked me so much then I couldn't really be that bad could I? And if THESE people liked me so much then why couldn't my mother? my father? my grandparents? But nothing changed. I'd go back home for a week or a month until my mom would freak out and tell me what a regret my birth was. At 17, I was pregnant. My boyfriend sold drugs and cheated on me constantly. When our daughter was 1 month old he went to jail to serve a 6 year sentence. During that time I ran around with about 15 other guys just like him. One after the other. Not one of them ever gave a shit about me, and deep down I knew that but I needed love so badly that I took it any way that I could get it. But all the while, everyday that went by became more and more depressing. It hit me, nobody does love me, and the love I did get was so screwed up it really wasn't love at all. Every morning it became harder to get out of bed until one day, I just didn't. I couldn't function any more. I didn't want to die but, I couldn't stand the thought of living through another day of hell. I couldn't understand why the rest of the world could go through life so easily, and why was I such an idiot that I couldn't do it? Why couldn't I "just pull myself through" like everybody told me to. They did it, why couldn't I? What was wrong with me??? That was my first hospital stay. That was six months ago. So here I am now... one overdose, a couple cuts, three hospitals, a night in jail, eight different medications, and a miscarriage later. But what is so amazing about it all, is that I am still here, and STILL hopeful. My daughter and I just moved 1500 miles away from my family, and I am currently looking for DBT. I want to finish college, and give my daughter the life that any child deserves... a healthy one.
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