literally, way to long... ugh
Posted: Thu Mar 29, 2012 2:28 am
My story.... if i went into it all.. would be long, triggering and sad.. so, i'll skip all the happy horse crap details, and just say i've been battling depression since a very young age. aaah, screw it.. details here we go.. my parents divorced when i was 5.. my younger sister (who was 2 at the time) lived with our mom. Both my parents were heavy into drugs, and were probably in no way shape or form, ready to have us kids, but none the less, there we were. my mom remained into drugs heavily, and also wasn't shy to bring the guys home.. i was 6 or 7 at the time of my earliest memory, which is of my mom having sexual intercourse on the kitchen table, while my sister and i were in the living room less than 50 feet away.... k, so that sets the scene for my early childhood. my father, at that time lived with his mother.. and by the court order of their divorce.. my father was to have custody every weekend and every other holiday.. well, he liked to drink and drug as much as he could.. so instead of spending the weekends and holidays with him.. my sister and i got to spend that time with his mom.. my grandmother.. who is a saint, a savior.. the sanity and reason i havn't completely lost it in life.. my fathers sisters and brothers were acceptionally good to us also.. they made sure we had new clothes for school and school supplies, and food to eat... (i have a huuuuge family btw- my dads 1 of 12) anyway, so that's where i spent my weekends.. when i was 8.. my mother finally settled down with her exploration of men, and married my stepfather. it was only 6 months after they married when things went down hill there. i'll skip as much of the details as i can, and just say.. there was still an abundance of drug use, and verbal/emotional abuse towards my sister and i. we were just never good enough.. if we went in the living room while they were trying to smoke their pot, or sniff their lines..... theeeeen we were just the worst kids in the world and should be shown where we belong, and all that hibbity hoopla... anyway.. i hated that man.. from the time he moved in, to this very current day. for one... i was to young for all that to happen.. i was to young to let some other man my mom just met try to come into my family and pretend like he's a father figure to me. i continued visiting my grandmothers house on the weekends.. even after my father had gone to jail on drug charges, and then moved out on his own.. he continued on his path of drug use and bad motions in life.. but i was still to young to know or understand his decisions.. i just knew i loved my grandmother and held her weekend visits dearly... i eventually started going there on summer break too.. it was like living there part time.. lol i loved it. got to play with all my cousins.. get away from the abuse of my mom and stepfather.. i was born by my parents but i was RAISED by my grandparents. by the time i was in middle school... i had started withdrawing from friends... i was starting to realize that my home life.... wasnt normal... of course, when you start middle school or junior high, a required class is health.. well, one semester, we were learning about the DARE program.. drug abuse.. and all the what to do if you know someone on drug precautions.... and i spoke with my health teacher about my mom. i was scared.. so scared that she'd be so mad.. and that telling about her drug use would just make things at home worse... well, my teacher informed me that calls to the department of social services can be made without having to leave your name and info.. so i called. it was about two weeks later.. i walked thru the door from school.. my mom came at me with a fork.. held it to my throat, asking if i had called DSS about her, because they were going to be coming to the house, and if i had told them, i'd be ripped out of the house, never see my sister again, and be put in some foster care system.. well.. of course, i lied my pants off, lol i told her no, and the fight was deflected... two days later, when i returned from school.. the dss person was there talking to my mom.. and like any inquizitive kid... i wanted to listen.. i listened in.. heard the lady ask my mom if she would take a drug test.. and my mom said no, no she wouldn't take one, because she'd fail it............ yes, my mom was honest about it...... i never saw the dss department in my house again. i continued gaining distance from my friends.. i was 13 or so, and had only broughten 2 people home.. who both after an hour or so, wanted to leave because their lungs were burning from all the smoking my mom and stepfather did in the house.. by 15, i was badly depressed. of course, lots of emotional changes in that time frame too.. but i had grown up quick... very quick.. and understood all that was going on in my house. also knew that there wasn't much i could do about it. my stepfather made it clear, every chance he got, that if i ever told anything about the happenings at the house, i'd regret it. he made it clear physically as well as emotionally/verbally. i was scared of him.. i wish i hadn't been.. and i did get brave, quite a few times with him... i was thrown out of the house at 15, for backtalking about my mom doing drugs while she was pregnant with my youngest sister.... yes.... drugs and pregnant... i left... moved in with some girl i met at a train station one night. i wanted badly to drop out of school... i didn't see the point.. it's like, after 5th grade, you spend half the year reviewing the stuff u might have forgot over the summer, and the rest of the year learning what i felt i already knew. but the stipulations for living with this friend i made at the train station was that i had to go to school to continue living there (per her mom) when my mother had my youngest sister, there were of course, complications with the delivery.. as well as the complications she had while pregnant.. my sister was born with (i forget what its called) but until she was 3, we were not sure she would be able to speak. anyway, when she was first born.. i did a lot of heavy thinking about where i belong... i knew that my mother and stepfather were certaintly not going to put down drugs just to care for the baby... they didn't with me or my other sister.. and i couldn't live knowing the crap that goes down in that house, and not at least be there to make sure my baby sister was ok. so... i made nice... by this time i was almost 17. i moved back in with my mom.. and by lord, i'm glad i did. every chance i got, i made sure to give them hell about the drugs in the house... i didn't care how much yelling or hitting my stepfather did... i was already numb to it.. and self injured to make sure i wasnt numb to my own feelings... i was deep... dark... i was depressed. i did have some friends during this time.. but i had pretty much given up hope on having anything normal go down with that. i did so much moving in and out of that house, that i can't tell u how many times i was in and out of there.. but i had to always return.. to ensure my sisters were properly taken care of. one of the last times i moved back in, i was thrown for an absolute loop... my sister who was 14 at the time (obviously not the youngest sister) anyway, my sister who was 14, was sitting at the dinning room table, with my mom and stepfather, smoking a joint, and sniffing a line... i was supposted to be moving in that day...... and i did...somehow thru all the fighting i was doing with my stepfather and mom.. i missed keeping an eye on my sister to make sure she stayed away from the crap.. anyway, at this point.. i gave up. i threw my hands up and just plain gave up. what else was i supposta do?? i dropped out of school.. i fell into the drugs... yes.. i did. i hate that i did.. but i did. and i did a lot. i did any and everything i could get my hands on.. i never tho.. never did it in front of, or around my sisters. i figured.. if everyone in my life was so into the drugs, there must be SOMETHING good they're getting out of it.. it must be worth way more than all the talk i was giving them about letting go of it all and just being happy... so i did it.. pills, pot, alcohol.. loooots of stuff. well, one night.. i od'd.. i dont remember anything more than praying that someone would tell my family i loved them.. even after all the abuse and all the pain.. i loved them.. i fell on my couch, and woke up in the hospital. i'm not sure what happened in between. that's the last time i ever touched a drug. i sware to you.. i sware i was dying there.. i was given a second chance and i'll be damned if i waiste even a breath of it, high... i went to rehab.. i still til today go to NA meetings, which help tremendously.. by 18, i had no control over anyting in my life.. my youngest sister was starting school.. so i didn't have to worry about her during the day anymore.. my other sister was gone.. living with her boyfriend/s and heavily into drugs.. worse than my parents were.. she got into heroine and other crap.. i coudln't help her.. i tried and tried... we faught.. fist faught and verbaly faught.. multiple times about it.. she just couldn't be reached.. i knew she didn't want the help i was offering.. or trying to get her to see..... this pushed my depression foward.. a lot. meanwhile in my life.. (age 18) i had met someone i really took an interest to.. i met her playing yahoo pool. lol we went from instant messaging, to emails, to on the phone... i fell in love with someone who lived 3000 miles away from me. its weird... thru all the abuse i was put thru... all the help i needed but couldn't get, or couldn't ask for... i knew i had put up some pretty high social walls.. but lacey (my yahoo lover) broke them.. i knew she was holding me together.. i call her, my laces.... lol its my nickname for her. the good in my life.. the laces to my life... it's so weird how easily i opened to her. i told her everything.. everything i could.. everything i knew.. everything i could THINK.. anyway.. i continued trying to help my sister, and continued the long distance relationship with lacey.. i knew i couldn't keep myself away.. and eventually lacey got fed up with the distance.. said to me, "either get on a plane and come live with me, or never call me again" iiiii definately quit my job that day and moved 3000 miles from boston massachusetts, to where i'm at now, here in phoenix arizona. before i had moved away.. about 6 months before.. my father had gotten himself sober.. he wanted to be a part of my life, and make up for all the time he had lost... i was hesitant at first.. but more than anything in my hole life, i wanted parental figures who loved me lol.. so after a breif thought process.. i figured that my walls were high enough to at least, talk with him.. keep him at a distance, and see how things go... we started with just phone convo's.. then hanging out once or twice a week... he was really great.. he held a lot of pain inside about not being there for my sister and i.. and no matter how much i told him that the past was the past, he made sure to tell me how much he was sorry for all he had caused. my sister did get herself help eventually.. it took the pursuation of me, my grandmother and godmother to get thru to her.. she did rehab, and met her husband there lol who ended up being the best thing for her. they stay clean together.. they stay sober.. two years later, they married.. i flew home for the wedding. it was the first time i had spoken to my mom since i had moved away. my dad and i spoke almost daily. things were weird with my mother.. always had been.. the wedding.. my sisters wedding.. was the last time i have seen my father alive. this past april, he had a heart attack at a friends house.. he passed away. i'm coping ok i think.. what hurts the most tho, is knowing that he could have been saved.. maybe my dad could still be alive today, had his friend called for help.. his friend that he was hanging out with.. girlfriend or friend, whatever they were.. she let him lay on the floor in her house, for almost an hour before calling for help. she claimed it was because she thought he had been drinking, and said that he had done that before... passed out on her floor and woke up sometime later... well.. the time she waisted may be the time that killed him.... anyway.. i never met this bi*ch, and she better pray i never do... another painful part of my fathers passing, is that my sister was pregnant.. he was going to be a grandfather.. and he passed away only two weeks before my neice was born.. just two weeks.. he was so excited..... so excited. he spoke to me the day before he died, and said that he couldn't wait to do all the kid things with the baby lol all the stuff he should have done with us... idk......... its so weird to think about him now... actually i've just triggered myself.. lol i say L O L but i'm really crying thru the keys... so i'll hurry the last bit of my story.... after my fathers passing.. i fell into depression again.. like any normal greiving process does i guess.... just felt like i've never not been greiving something... weather it be the lack of normalcy or loss of my father.. it's been 11 days since my grandmother passed away... i can't even express in words yet, what her passing has done.... it hurts to much... and i have walls that i still need to greive over before i say more about her... um.. i... hope i didn't trigger to many things for to many people... but its my story, so if ya dont like it.......... ya shoulda stopped reading up there somewhere....... lol jk.. oh, btw.. i use humor to deflect sadness and anger to deflect anything else.. i think.. idk..... anyway.. i'm way past bedtime and my pillowcase needs to catch some tears... g'nite all.. thanks for reading, if you did.. and sorry so long, if you did also.. lol