My Story

Well, as you may know, when I was 5, my mom passed away. She was at my neighbor’s (my mom’s close friend)’s house late at night when it happened. My brother and I didn’t know until the next morning. My dad basically sat on the bed and told both of us that Mom had died the night before. From then on, my dad was left with my brother, my sister, and I at home all day. He had to take a break from his job. And, fortunately, my aunt came and watched us most of the days so that my dad could get back into the swing of things. After a while, my neighbor started watching us. She would come over every day just to babysit, and soon enough, she started becoming a bigger part of my life. (This will be helpful later on.) A few years went by and my family started getting closer to my neighbor’s family. In fact, my dad, and her even went on a date. My dad also took the step and we moved across the street with them. A few years past with my neighbor and my dad dating. My brothers and I (my sister didn’t go to school just yet) got off the bus to the two of them telling us that they were getting married the upcoming Sunday. At first, all of us thought that they were kidding. Mainly because we were so used to them being sarcastic with us, in a joking manner, that we took nothing they said seriously unless it was punishment. So, of course, they got their wedding bands that day for proof. Sunday came and well that was the wedding day. We had really immediate family as guests, and it was on the first superbowl that day Patriots went against the Giants. (I think the first, Idk anything about football). We had the ceremony inside, and then as the “reception,” everyone watched the game. And as awful as it is, the Giants won. So that was the only downside to that wedding day. A few years went on again. We basically all called ourselves a family, because, well, we were now. In 2010, we were all shocked to my parents telling us that we were going to be moving. At first, my dad’s plan was the buy a piece of land in Voluntown, where we all grew up. So, he did, but he didn’t get too far into the land and the house. We moved just down the road into a small apartment. It was pretty crowded in cluttered, considering we had two dogs, plenty of chickens and ducks, 5 children, and of course, my two parents. My three brothers slept in one huge room, and my sister and I stayed in an okay sized one, mattresses on the floor. We lived there for about a year. I was so used to growing up in Voluntown, to the point where our family knew majority of the town. By the end  of 6th grade, my best friend and I lost our friendship, along with some of my other friends. That summer, I figured out that I was going to be moving to Franklin, instead of the piece of land that my dad had previously bought in Voluntown. No one knew really until school started back up, and I didn’t show up to school. That was one of the hardest times in my life so far. I had already lost my best friend from about 3rd grade, and to go along with that, I had to move away from everything I had known. I  also started becoming not clinically depressed, but feeling awfully down, that June, at the end of 6th grade. Everything started to go downhill. That’s when I started crying in the shower and slitting my wrists. It wasn’t until we were far into the house we had in Franklin, and the school, that my parents figured out what I had been up to. It was the April of 7th grade, and rumors had gotten around that I had self-harmed. Soon enough, the school had figured out. They called me down to the office one day, talked to me a bit, made me show them my cuts on my legs, and then they had to call my parents. That was the first time that I’ve remembered seeing my dad cry. That day, I had promised to them that I wouldn’t do it again, and that if I had the urge to, I’d come to them. Of course, I’m not close with my parents, so that never happened. Well, the state and school made my parents distance me from all sharp objects, even things just as simple as bobby pins. My parents continuously lectured me about how I had to clean up my act because there was a chance that I would have to be put into foster care or some sort of facility if I kept it up. So of course, then, it struck me, that I wouldn’t be able to do that, because I love my family too much. I stopped cutting and hurting myself for about 7-8 months. 8th grade came around, I was pretty content, except, the paranoia started coming in. However, that’s also whenever I started purging. This was mainly because I was so insecure with my body and I didn’t have the time and effort to try to help myself. Not many people found out about me in school, because, most people loved me. I got amazing grades, and I was told that I was one of the nicest kids the teacher’s have every met, and almost every teacher I had from Franklin would constantly tell me how proud they were of me. I don’t know why I let that pass me by, because I know that if I had listened to them, or at least considered their opinions, that there was a slight chance I could have gotten and felt better. Well, Gerard, (Canadian friend), he made me promise him that I wouldn’t throw up purposely again, and since he meant so much to me for a majority of years, I decided to listen. I didn’t cut or purge for almost a year. High school kind of ruined that though… It wasn’t until I was 12 or 13 that I heard how and why she died. My parents had thought I knew, but honestly, I had no clue whatsoever for about 7 years. My mom died randomly around 30 from an aneurysm. And yes, my step-mom basically married her close friend’s husband. I always thought that my step-mom was rude for doing so. It sounds pretty fucked up. But she had told me that only a few days before my mom had passed that she told her that if anything happened to her, that she would want Dawn to fill in for her place. I also didn’t figure that out until a few months ago, which is why I have been accepting and being thankful for Dawn lately. Before that, I tried to be nice, we never fought, but I also didn’t care for her much. But I’ve been trying to become closer to her lately, so that maybe in the future we could have an amazing relationship, and it’s starting to get there already, but I’m still too scared to open up to her.

2 thoughts on “My Story”

  1. So how old are you? I used the dates to help me, but I’m not sure. I’m a sophomore. Sounds like you’ve been through a lot. I noticed people don’t post comments on your entries very often, so here I am commenting! Keep trying with your stepmom, you’ll get there!

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