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The Beginning

This is my first time writing a blog, but I've gotten to a point where I just need to get things out and I feel better knowing that someone might see this and possibly relate. I can't talk to my family and friends, it's hard. Therapy is a joke. Never available when needed and sometimes takes a month to get in and thats even with scheduling in advance. I've allowed myself to get to a point its extremely hard to pull myself up. Here's my story from the beginning...

I grew up in a hostile atmosphere. Parents fighting constantly, waking up to screaming and fighting and I would cry and beg them to stop and it continued even after they were seperated. Calling each other names and bad mouthing each other to me, constantly wanting updates about the other. I was put into the middle of this huge fight that absolutely no 6 year old should be in. I felt torn because I was daddy's little girl but I saw how he treated my mother. Not to say she didn't bring it upon herself. I was young but I remember being at parties with her, male strippers, and driving drunk on the wrong side of the road and her sloppy drunk friends falling over, laying the front seat of the car onto my lap. I can't make this stuff up. I even remember times where my mom would come and try to pick me up beyond drunk and I was terrified of her because she was fighting with her friend about how she was taking me home and I would refuse to go. My father would drag my brother and I out of bed in the middle of the night to go looking for my mother because she wasnt home when she said she was going to be. For 5 years I delt with them being divorced and fighting and being stuck in the middle of this mess and so many thoughts planted into my head. My mother remarried and that made things worse. And honestly he wasn't any better than my father. My father had at least never hit me... only abused my mother. But my step dad, I was hit, drug through rooms by my hair, he would chase me out of the house and he would tell my mom that he was afraid to catch me because he might kill me. Granted sometimes I was out of line but never to the extent of how he treated me.

Eventually we ended up going to court because my mother convinced me that my father was molesting my brother and she was trying to get full custody. I remember her saying that my brother told her that these things happened when I took a nap on the couch or was inside. Well I was young but well past napping and at my fathers we were hardly ever allowed inside. Hell we got locked out of the house half the time. I don't know the truth and my brother is 4 years younger than me and he doesn't remember anything from when our father used to come around regularly. And she denies it now. I was 11 when we went to court. I was terrified because I thought my dad was really going to kill my mom like he mentioned he wanted to so many times before or my entire family or me because I didn't go there to back him up. I can't even tell you what I really thought or if I said what I had been told all I know is I was scared out of my ever loving mind. For months after this I would have nightmares, slept with a baseball bat, wetting the bed because I was to terrified that he might be hiding under my bed or around the corner to actually go to the bathroom. And with that my father stopped coming around.

When I was 12, my step dad decided to take it upon himself to have "the talk" with me. I never even thought about doing that with a guy. And he told me about vibrators and said he would buy me my own and you know what I felt awkward. And to this day I still feel uncomfortable being alone in the same room with him. My own mother didn't know this convesation took place until I was 20 and I let it slip.

He didn't try getting in touch with me again until was was about 13, 8th grade. He wrote me from jail. He was there because he hardly paid his child support and was quitting jobs just so he didn't have to pay and fly below the radar. My grandfather paid half of what he owed and they let him out and he came around once maybe then he still wasn't paying. Was supposed to go back to jail and left the state. I was pretty indifferent at that point. I wasn't afraid anymore but he just walked out on us so I wasn't too heart broken when he left. I went about my every day life again.

I lost my virginity that year. Out of curiosity and honestly I'm pretty sure thats where my life kinda just fell apart. I noticed I had issues with staying awake and I would sleep all the time and then there would be days I couldn't sleep. I met a boy who was 19 and I went from miss social butterfly to apologizing for the way I am. And my self confidence, my self worth it went down. I continued with cheerleading and other school activities and in public I held a happy face but once I was home I would barracade myself in my room and just sleep so I didn't have to deal.. and I would sleep all the time for weeks.. then other weeks I would get an hour or less of sleep a night and be ready to go for school. I would forget to eat because I was too busy with other things, but I felt happy. I loved feeling that way and then wouldn't you know someone would come and chop me right back down again. The struggle continued.

I started hurting so bad and wanting so badly to feel loved because honestly I never felt loved before. Not by my family. I was sneaking out with boys who were much too old and for a little while would make me feel loved but sooner or later I would find out that was not the case and I would hurt even worse. Then, all I wanted to feel was numb. Never did anything serious. Maybe a vicodin or a muscle relaxer my step dad had laying around. Just so I could lay there and not feel anything. I hated my life and I was ok with not existing any more. I tried telling my mom something was wrong. She took me to the peditrician and he said I was going through some teenage thing. And then I met another much too older guy and went to my very first party. I was 16. I just had my license and my mom was working 2 jobs. She had no true idea what I was up to. I drank too much and I allowed him to have sex with me. No I wasn't raped and I'm not claiming I was taken advantage of. But little did I know. My son was conceived that night. And when I found out a month later my whole world changed.

I can tell you that getting pregnant saved my life. It didn't ruin it. It made things harder but I honest to god wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for him. His father chose not to be involved in his life and honestly after learning his history with drugs and abuse I was ok with him not being in our lives. And for the next 4 years I was happy. I had a few downs but nothing significant. My son was growing and thriving and thank god my mom and step dad supported me in my decision to keep my son. He was my world and I finished highschool and went on to college. College only lasted a year but I found a practical nursing program and got accepted. Then I turned 21. I could drink legally, at the bar, and I did. Every weekend and I became promiscuous again. And you know what my mood started dropping again and I stopped drinking so much for fun and would drink just not to feel or not to remember. And I met some awful guys. By 22 I was so depressed that the thought of my son weren't helping me. I felt like he would be better without me. I admitted myself to the hospital and thats where I started my journey to help myself. To try to understand why I think and feel the way I do.

I started seeing a psychatrist and a therapist. The psychatrist was quick to diagnose me with bipolar disorder. And the psychatrist had me on so many crazy things that I felt even worse. And he thought I was an alcoholic and I sought other avenues of feeling good. I stopped seeing him and my therapist.

And I experimented a little with drugs. In which case I became addicted to crack. A binge addict. I was fine when I wasn't doing it but when I was I would just blow through it. Alright now I know if you've been reading this far and now you're really thinking I'm this god awful person. How could I do that while having a son and going to nursing school? I don't know. In that moment in time I was like if I don't bring it home, around my son, it wouldn't effect him. Stupid. I know. I still struggle with it to this day, but I don't look for it. I don't want to lose my career or my son.

Now, I'm 25, I have a wonderful 8 year old boy and he really does mean the world to me, but I'm so far down in a hole that I'm not digging myself out. I did start seeing a new psychatrist and therapist but I feel like I get no where. Sometimes I feel good and nothing is wrong but I can't tell if its the meds or just me because I still get so far depressed. He also agrees with the Bipolar II diagnosis, but also added adhd and ocd and anxiety. I'm a mess. And the stresses in my life never cease. I don't have a job right now due to lack of hours. My son is now to the age of asking about his father and he doesn't want his mother to do things with him like fishing or sports and there is definetly a lack for a good male role model. I still live at home. I was hoping to be out by the end of summer but that was because I thought I had a job. Now the plan is to go back to school which I'm excited about but scared at the same time. There is just so much that this little paragraph just can't describe, but I'm tired and I think I may leave the rest of this story to be continued.

If you read this all. You're a trooper and I appreciate it. Feel free to leave comments and happy blogging to you.

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