Hi, my name is Bryanna.
I honestly don’t even know where to begin, and the last thing I want to do is write a letter asking you to pity me. I’d prefer to ask you to have faith in me…
Life has dealt me some shitty cards. Am I entirely innocent? Absolutely not. But every time I try to get up, I’m smacked right back down.
I was adopted at the age of 5. I was a problem child, as most older child adoptions are. I had reactive attachment disorder; a constant fear of being abandoned that didn’t dissipate as I grew up. I didn’t smile, I bit my adoptive mother, I threw monumental tantrums. A cyclone of emotional abuse between me and my adoptive mother built up, and peaked at for me at the age of 11. I began to self harm, I wanted to die, I felt alone and misunderstood, I was badly bullied in school and had limited contact with friends. I tried to kill myself and was hospitalized about 4 times. My mother’s “solution” to me self harming was to strip search me. On on occurrence, I told her that if I had to live with her any long, I would kill myself. She told me to get in the car, and dumped me at the emergency room. Three out of the four times I was hospitalized, my parents didn’t visit me, and I received very few calls. They threatened to put me in a “juvenile delinquent home,” whatever that is, and just generally berated me for my suicidal tendencies. I ended up moving out at 17, and I’ve received almost zero financial support from my parents since. They had me sign a contract agreeing to this.
I have chronic anxiety, depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, and borderline personality disorder. Despite this, I was able to move into my own apartment a few months ago, and I was financing a Honda Civic. Things were going alright until a friend got shot and killed over a petty disagreement. He was 20. Suddenly all the symptoms I had been denying resurfaced. Combine this with the stress of a career serving job at a prestigious, world famous restaurant, at which I felt inadequate, singled out, and barely made enough money to pay my bills, and I crumbled. I’ve struggled with alcohol abuse for years (even though I am only 21), and I’m notorious for blacking out. It’s a way of killing myself without actually dying. About a month ago I had been drinking at home alone and I let in the maintenance man to fix my AC. I woke up in my bed after losing 8 hours with bruises on my knees and elbows, and my panties were on the floor. I didn’t go to the police at first, because I thought it was my fault. I still feel like it was, but I brought the condom to the police because this man not only works in my neighborhood, but lives across from me, and mentioned “coming by to make sure I wasn’t passed out on the floor again.” Three weeks ago, I drank too much at the club and slipped away from my friends. I didn’t know I was driving until I hit something. If I had hit just a bit harder, or at a different angle, I would have blown up. My car is totaled, I’m about to be put on probation, which means I will have to give up my vices that help me when I’m particularly suicidal, and I just want to dig myself out of this mess. I’ve been trying to sell my body to get my savings back up and afford another car. I feel stuck in bed, in this monotonous cycle of watching TV, gorging myself on carbs, and sleeping. My adoptive parents won’t speak to me, and we had just started to mend our relationship. I am in therapy and on medication, and once I’m able to get to AA meetings I will be attending. This most definitely has served as a wake up call for me, and I’m desperate to begin rebuilding myself and my life.
Please and thank you 💗