Asked by objectoftheeye
You always ask the most interesting questions! Well my parents divorced when I was two. My first memory is of the night they split up. I was told to choose who I wanted to live with. [Totally an appropriate decision for a two year old, right?] My mom had been struggling with a meth addiction at the time, and my dad was, and still is, just a dick. From there I remember a few things that even at two, I knew were just… off, about my mom. She would let me stay up all night with her, and we would watch the sunrise. We would stay around the house in the nude, and she would say to me, “being naked in nice huh?” And when she ran a bath, she would never drain the water. One day I was with my mom and there were some pills on the table. I asked what they were. [I was about 3 or 4 by this time] My mom looked at me and said, “eat it.” So I put one of the pills in my mouth and chewed it up while she laughed at me. [I still to this day have no idea what the pill was, I did obviously spit it out, and I have asked my mom, who has no memory of this event] That was the night my dad came, kicked down the door, and took me with him. I was then raised mostly by my grandma because everything else was always more important to my dad, be it his girlfriend, or racing. I suffered from some kind of child depression, I used to burst into tears on the playground for no reason, other kids would ask what was wrong and I would simply say, “I don’t know, I’m just sad.” I was always juggled between my parents, a week here, a week there. I started going to therapy in fourth grade, because my mom found a list in my room so eloquently entitled “People I want to kill before I kill myself” I remember my step dad coming into my room and yelling at me because I had upset HIS wife. My grandma died when I was 13, she didn’t tell anyone she was sick, took her phone off the hook and disappeared. There was never a service, I never got any of her things that were promised to me, and I never got any of my paintings that were in her possession. My depression worsened from there, and I made my first [silly] suicide attempt at 13 when my first boyfriend dumped me, by drinking a whole bottle of wine and taking a whole bottle of ibprofen. I then started smoking weed, and other than making me lazy I don’t think it had very much of an effect on my depression or anything, good or bad. Then at 16, my dad got his girlfriend pregnant, she is 9 years older than me. I tried to kill myself again, this time with aspirin, and I took enough to make me good and sick, and mess up my hearing for a couple days, but I never went to the hospital or anything. My dad called my mom and told her to “come get IT out of my house” I was raped at 17, while leaving my first job . And for a long time I didn’t tell anyone, and even tried to convince myself that it had never happened. I was then molested at 18 by a guardian of a friend. we tried to go to the police the next day to report the incident, and the lady cop said to me, “How do you know you didn’t give consent in your sleep?” She never even let us make a written statement. I went into the adult industry at 19, did porn at 20, and tried to kill myself a third time, with anti-depressants, the day the footage was released on the internet. This time a then friend called the ambulance and I was put on a 72 hr legal hold in the psychiatric unit. Then I started my blog last year, and I have been doing a lot better for the most part. Yep, that’s pretty much my life story in readers digest version..