First off, I'm not sure whether I am Bi or Pansexual. I'm still trying to figure that out, so I'll just talk about being bi.

I came out to myself on December 4th, 2012. So obviously, its not a phase.

I told my dad in January of 2013 and I know he though it was a phase. To him, it wasn't that important... at the time.

I had never really talked about it after that with my dad, until recently. His girlfriend and I have debates with him, and one day gays became the topic of conversation. I said he was a bigot and a homophobe (nicely). He said he wasn't homophobic, and made me look it up. Lo  and behold, "by definition", he was a homophobe. My dad is a non practicing Christian (Mormon) and his parents are old fashioned. He said, to my face, gays are unnatural. (By default, cause its all things homosexual) anything not straight was unnatural. More than what any of my friends have said, that hurt the worst. He said it so nonchalantly, too.

Talking to people about being bi is, in some ways, different then talking about being gay. On one hand, some people (mainly guys) are OK with bi girls, cause its "hot". On the other hand, bi's get  talked a lot of smack about how they need to "jump off the fence, already" by both gays and straights.

I'm lucky that at my old schools, not Too many have given me crap. However, I feel like it'll be different at my new school.

My home life wasn't very good. My mother left my father, when I was 5, to go live with her boyfriend that she met over the internet while my dad was deployed. This led to a long line of abusive, or just total scum, boyfriends.

She had 4 notable boyfriends, of which one was her husband, that I found out later.

The first one, W, was an unbelievable fake. Around my mother, he acted like he just loved us. But behind her back, he was a douche. I remember my brother was aggrivating him or something, so he turned my brother's bed (crib turned bed) around and trapped him in it, cause he was only 3 or 4.

R was the second. He had 3 kids of his own, and when they weren't with their mom, they were at our house, mainly on the weekend. Keep in mind that we had a tiny 3 bedroom apartment. R would leave his kids with my mom and go fishing all weekend. Sometime while they were together, they got married. He also fathered my half brother and left when he found out she was pregnant.

J wasn't that notable. He hit my mother one day, though. She got a restraining order and I believe she still saw him afterwards.

D was the worst. He is (she still talks to him) a bigot and a homophobe. He always made jokes about n***ers and gays. That wasn't the worst of it. My dad lived 3 and a half hours away, and it was court ordered that we had visitation every other weekend. They met about halfway.

At one point in time her car was in the shop, so we borrowed my grandmothers car. His truck was where my dad lived, cause he had lived there, so they went all the way to the "county', as everyone there cals it. so we took the car there. But they left the car  there at the end of the weekend, because they didn't want to spend more gas money. My brother and half brother, being younger, rode in the cab of the THREE SEATER truck. Her boyfriend and I were in the back, which had a Tanoe cover,  a hard top, and spent three hours in the back of the truck. I lived, thankfully. And it happened 2 more times. Later on, my mom shaved their heads, my brothers were 7 and 3, and they, all being guys, took a shower together. D literally pissed on my littlest brothers face. Literally.

I told my dad the next time we went to visit him. He was horrified at what had happened.  Shortly after, he filed for custody of my brother and I.

There was a long, drawn out, year long custody battle, but it went overwhelmingly in my dads favor.

Even today, my mother blames me for my dad getting custody because I told him I wanted to live with him.

And that was just my moms boyfriends involvement in it...

My mother is a manipulative, bitter alcoholic. She gets drunk often, (fron what my sister says) and she gets drunk when we visit. She's verbally abusive to her husband, and possibly bipolar. She has convinced me when I visited that I wanted to live with her or that my dad is just using us to "get back" at her. She's irresponsible too. She was asleep a lot when we lived with her, and let us play outside in our ghetto apartment complex in out ghetto city. She made me drink a shot of moonshine one new years eve after getting wasted with a girlfriend of hers. I was 11. She also made my siblings drink it too.

My dad... he's not bad, but he doesn't really listen. When I told him I was depressed, he said, "nope, there's one symptom that you don't have, so you don't have it." And now I feel I can't talk to him about my issues.

One thing that makes me sick is that he thinks I'm unnatural. He said gays (although I'm not gay, its the same point) are unnatural and wrong. I bet he didn't even think that he was including anything other then just gays in that statement (I think he thinks its a phase)

For most of my life (until I was 11ish), I was overweight. I mean, I weighed 120 when I was 9.

I was bullies for all of my childhood. The earliest memory of it is when I was in kinder garden (6 years old) and I was annoying a high schooler. So, he picked me up by my backpack and hung me on the bottom "hook" of a flag pole. My toes almost touched the ground.

Fat and ugly were words I heard all of the time. My sister commente on how much I ate at one point in time.

Some boys in my neighborhood threw a stick at my face and shoved me down into the mud.

A girl threw pizza at my hair in 6th grade.

So, because of these situations, among others, caused my self esteem to plummet, as soon as I started thinking about my body.

I was extremely self conscious and I hated my body.

It was October of 2012. What started it all was a plastic knife in the cafeteria.

The first time I cut I was at school. I had started feeling really bad. At lunch, I hadn't used my knife. I don't think I even meant to get it.

So, I sat there. And I thought. And then I decided. I used the knife, and started scratching my wrist. It wasn't deep and it barely bled. It was red and stung afterwards.

From there, it was a downward spiral.