Hello. My name is Devi, and I live in Denmark. My family came here from Africa when I was 1 years old. My mother had lost her husband, her oldest child and one of my sisters have a handicap that they couldn’t treat there… that’s why we got sent here. With all this happening and her family being halfway around the globe she developed mental illnesses that would hurt all of us through the years. She beat, locked us in a dark room and sent us to bed without sleep.
When I was 5 she met a man from Poland, and they soon had a child… tho he was only home in the holidays so my sisters and I’d take care of everything around the house (mom would cook) we had amazing experiences when “dad” was home, the trips and all the gifts he brought. He always said it was because he never had any as a kid. But dad wasn’t there most of the time and he never truly knew what was going on… until I ended up in the hospital with broken ribs.
He left. And tried only to see his own daughter, but soon he would be back and they would keep going back and forth like this forever (even got married and are now getting divorced) and when I was around 10 one of my sisters started moving back and forth between living at home and elsewhere… I never really knew her until I turned 13 and got placed into a home with her. From there everything got even worse.
I was moved halfway across the country , away from everything I had ever known. And the home I got placed into was filled with older kids with major mental illness, drug and other problems… I got dumped into this corrupt world and it broke me even more than my mom ever did. Not only that but the social worker told me that I could never live in a family again (because I moved from two fosterhomes)
Fast forward three years and I finally get to move away from that hell, but they moved me back into another Foster home… which turned out to be just as bad. But this time they saw that I wasn’t the problem but that the Foster parents were just using the kids for their monthly money. So they moved me to yet another Foster home, and this one was the one.
I immediately felt at home with them, and they were the best parents any kid could want… I still think that till this day, but just before I turned 17 I learned that I have ADHD and OCD. After that they started treating me different, like is was just a project they had to fix. And of course everything fell apart and I once again moved. This time I moved into a small home with only 5 kids… it was okay but I spent most of my time there in school and smoking weed. Already at this time life was hard for me to deal with..
I haven’t been able to sleep ever since I remember, always had crippling anxiety, can’t understand others feeling towards me or mine towards them… death anxiety, anger issues, depression, no/fleeing sense of self and well probably A lot more that I don’t notice… so yeah it’s pretty tough, but I finished high-school and did two years in college before trying to kill myself and ending in a mental hospital…
After that I lost my apartment and ended in debt, lived with some friends for a while but you can imagine that’s hard for me… also because I get confused by humans easily so I like being alone… but then I found this place where you could live while getting back on track. A few months went by and I got myself a new apartment… but I didn’t have any way to pay for it so once again I ended up with debt. This time I decided to try and give my family another chance and go live with my mom, it was actually her idea.. I just missed my sisters.
I didn’t even stay there for two weeks, but this time I didn’t get my stuff with me so everything I owned, gone. Found another one of those places but in a city that turned out to be too rough on my fragile mind. I ended up befriending the wrong people for me, basically partying every night and spending all our money recklessly… it ruined my body, mind and soul… I felt broken in another way but I was so used to just drinking away my problems and weirdness that when I didn’t do it I couldn’t even talk to people or reply a text. And taking medication while living like this only made it worse. I lost so much weight and couldn’t even stand some days.
I lived like that for about a year, until I decided to go into rehab and try to work with my mental health instead of numbing it… I’d like to tell you that everything went well after that but it didn’t. After rehab I moved to where I live now, a treatment home for people with severe trauma/mental illness. They suspect that I may also have psychosis or schizophrenia so it’s not exactly going better, but I’m working with trauma and OCD/Anxiety everyday.
All I want is to get better, get back into school and get my own apartment again… and I don’t know if anyone will read this, but it’s not a story I tell everyday so if you read it, thank you.
(The total debt is too much for me to pay off in a few years but every little bit will help!)
Hope you have a great day otherwise :)