It’s been placed upon my heart to tell my story. I feel like it will help someone out. Right now as I’m typing this I feel scared because my family may or may not read this, but I’m tired of being quiet. I also want to say that I love my parents and always will.
My mom birthed me when she was 16 and I believe that my father was 17. They were both children trying to raise a baby. I lived with my mother up until I was 3 and then I didn’t stay with her again until I was in my teens. According to my mom, I was taken away from her by her family with the promise of returning me. That never happened.
I lived with my great aunt and life was great. I had everything a child would ever want until one day that all came crashing down. A close relative began molesting me and robbing me of my childhood. It was horrible just waiting in the darkness waiting for him to come and devour what childhood I had left. Little did I know life would never be the same again. This went on for years until I decided at 12 to go stay with my father.
Relationship with my dad
My father had just gotten out of prison and I was longing for a relationship with him. He had been in prison for the majority of my life and I didn’t know who he was. Long story short we didn’t get along. I was very rebellious and angry during that time and wanted to do what I wanted to do. So after two years of living with my father, I went to live with my mother.
Relationship with my mom
I lived with my mom until I graduated from high school. I learned a lot from living with my mom. The best part of living with her was that I was able to see my brothers and sisters every day. Some days I wish I could go back to when life made sense. But even though life was good, I still had demons and when I was about 17 I started dealing with depression. I remember my mom being totally against me taking medication for it. At that point, I knew that I had to move on to where I could get help. After I graduated from High School I moved to Missouri to live with my great grandmother and go to college.
My life wasn’t getting better and so I began self-medicating and partying just to make it through the darkness. I remember searching for a man that would fill my void, but all it was doing was creating a bigger void. Life was beating me down all I wanted to do was just die a slow death. My first suicide attempt was in my early 20’s. After that, I became homeless living out my car feeling like nobody in the world could save me. I began stealing so that I could eat and stay in a hotel. That landed me right in jail. My dad came and bailed me out but at that time I was so far gone that I rejected his help. This cycle continued until I had my firstborn. I wanted and needed to be better for him. So I began picking up the pieces of my life. I saw a therapist and she put me on medication to help with depression and anxiety.
Don’t get me wrong I still struggle every day. There are times when I cry myself to sleep at night. There are times when I want to throw in the towel, but I look at my two beautiful children and keep fighting for them. Now I tell you my story to show you that it’s never too late to ask for help. It’s never too late to get your life in order. Keep on pushing and keep on fighting. I will never lose hope knowing that I have a supportive family and husband by my side. What do you struggle with? And how do you plan to overcome it? I’m here to help, ask me anything!
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