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Okay so with the lack of actual disussion in most of the forums across the board, I decided to do this since I really have nothing better to do on a Sunday night. I could go draw something but I'm feeling rather unmotivated (again).
I decided on a spur of the moment to describe a bit about myself in detail since people tend to ask or wonder about things. As I mentioned in one of my first entries, I am chronic depressive and a mild scizophrenic (and I can't spell). I assume people would want to know the back story. I guess I just want to write this all down so people can stop asking me if they're curious enough and I can stop explaining it over and over again.
So, prepare ladies and gentleman, boys and girls of all ages to wander into the chaotic mists of a mentally insane person's brain...okay well not really mentally insane but whatever.
So my parents were killed in a car acciedent when I was a wee child of six. Instead of being adopted by one of the family, my twin sister and I were brought to a foster home. Which in a word: sucked. The place smelled bad, had a lot of bullies and basically was a really bad place to be. There were beatings if we were bad, we were locked in storage closets, stuff like that. We lived there for two years my sister and I.
Then, things started looking up. We were taken in by a nice couple and things were great. For two years. Then 'dad' lost his job and started drinking. A few months later, 'mom' got laid off. They both started getting heavy into drugs.
Around that time, my 'dad' started having weekly poker nights. One night he had no money to bet, so he bet me. He lost. From then on I was abused and raped by his friends whenever he lost a bet which ended up being a few times a week. Thankfully, I saved my sister from the humiliation. I told her to hide and mentioned none of it to her, I figured one of us had to be mentally stable to survive. She was smarter, might as well be her.
When I was about 14, I started to fight back but things also caught up with me. I became really pissy and depressed. I started cutting. At first it was an outlet for the pain. After a while I guess I wanted scars on the outside to show the scars I had on the inside or something.
Life kept getting worse. My 'parents' started taking the hard-earned cash my sister and I made to spend on booze and drugs. Friends started dying. I started seeing really creepy things and hearing strange voices that no one else could hear. I guess I was snapping but didn't realize it.
There was so much more that went on after, I'm just not ready to tell some of it. Other things happened, betrayal, abuse, insults. But that's between me and my sister, girlfriend and psychitrist. All this, I'm comfortable sharing.
I was still cutting when I was 17. Mostly I cut my arms because I felt that they were the easiest thing to hide. It didn't feel right to me to cut anywhere else. But something happened. I know this is going to sound so cliche, but I met her.
Her? My girlfriend. It was October, she had just transfered from a different school. She couldn't stop staring at me for the first week in art class so I asked her out, thinking nothing of it. She accepted. I didn't know it then, but my life was changed from that moment.
She seemed different from the other girls, she actually seemed to want to be with me for who I was on the inside, not because I was popular or in a band or good-looking. She liked me for me. She tried to care about me, she coddled me which at the time I hated.
One day, after about two months of dating her, she saw me without the arm sleeves I used (and still use today) to cover my scars. She didn't cry. She didn't laugh. She didn't make fun of me or start questioning me or call me an idiot. All she did was hug me and say:"I'm here whenever you need me."
Four months later, I did something really stupid. I tried to kill myself. I was under a lot of stress from school and work, trying to make ends meet in an apartment with my sister, working over time, working on the school play. I still felt the effects of my abuse from my younger years, still heard those voices, saw all those faces of dead friends. I guess I finally snapped. I felt like there was nothing worth living for.
I slit my arms from the wrist to elbow and laid myself in a bathtub full of water. So cliche I know. I remember thinking that finally, everthing would be okay. Then my sister found me. I don't think I've ever seen her cry so much.
For a week she refused to talk to me. That hurt more than all the abuse, all the pain, the beatings, the insults. I stopped cutting. Of course, my sister told my girlfriend. I though seeing my sister cry was bad enough. Knowing that I hurt my GF was the worst pain in the world.
I stopped cutting. I actually talked to my phyciatrist. I actually talked to people, told them how I felt. I started taking my meds. I look back on all that now and can't help but think of how much of a coward I actually was. Instead of trying to talk to my sister about the beatings I suffered for years, about the abuse, I kept it all bottled up.
I would be lying if I said it still doesn't effect me today. I can't look at myself in a mirror, I can't stand to be in front of a camera. I can't help but feel a bit of pain sometimes when I remember what happened. But, I know now that there are people who care about me. There are people who would be upset if I started cutting again. I can't bare to put them through that. Not again. Not ever.
Life is better now, I stopped cutting almost two years ago. I don't think I've ever been happier then I am right now today. I have a wonderful family (as small as we are), great friends, and an amazing girlfriend. Now I use my former experiences with pain and suffering not as a crutch but as a reminder. I mean hell, if I can survive through all that, I can survive through anything. It's made me stronger, it's made me who I am today and even though I went through a lot, I wouldn't change a thing. Without those experiences, I wouldn't be me.
So do with this information what you will. Flame me and prepare to be burned. Take me as I am or leave it. I am what I am, and I would not change it for the world.