Hello, I am a student and a writer. In life, I would often be envious of others thinking I haven’t accomplished anything, but the truth is I have. I am a fighter that has been and is still going through a lot. To feel relief and express my emotions I would often write different types of texts, and it would help. There would be a lot of tears, but it’s OK to cry. Here is a story about my life:
You have a problem and you don’t know you do. Coming back from school thinking if your parents would be nervous, angry, and aggressive that day because that would decide how you will be treated. Are you gonna be beaten up? And when you are, the more you cry, the harder and more times you get hit. Like they wouldn’t stop. Living under different circumstances and not being aware because you’re just a kid. That’s how things were for as far as you remember, so it’s normal to you. I deserve to be beaten up. My parents wouldn’t punish me if I didn’t deserve it, right? They’re good people. They say they love me. I always felt isolated, have had no friends, no birthday parties, no birthdays. I didn’t know when my birthday was until twelve years old because I was taught that’s just a regular day like other days, it is not important. It was forbidden. And every time, a classmate would call me for his or her birthday, I wasn’t allowed to say yes. Day after, everyone would talk about they had a great time while I was sitting alone and quiet on the other side of the classroom. I was never a part of that, and I was a kid just like they were. All the bruises and scars I have gone to school with, no one asked how I got them, no one cared. I was about three years old when my parents hit me for the first time, and I was five when my mom slapped me in the face for the first time. I remember I spent half of the day crying behind my bed. I was never right, and for everything, I would do, they would criticize. I was never good enough to them. A child used to being hit, slapped, beaten up, manipulated, criticized, and yelled at develops the habit of blaming themselves and self-criticism. It was my fault because mom or dad said so, and they’re always right. After I developed that habit and guilt, I felt something isn’t the way it should be. As an intelligent person, I’ve tried to find the source of that, but so far, unknown problem. I’ve looked for it in every single area of my life except for the family part because of the conviction that absolutely everything is right with my family. That feeling became harder and harder as the days were going by. I was feeling depressed and anxious. I didn’t sleep and was cutting my skin. The thought that it was my fault to feel like that, and every single problem happening around me was my fault, has made me want to end my life. That possibility of committing suicide and stopping to feel like that seemed so beautiful, but I wasn’t so determined to die so I did what sites on the internet recommended, I asked my parents for help. Wasn’t strong enough to say, so I wrote about how I was drowning in my feelings and else. After leaving that letter on the table, in the living room, my mom and brother came into my room, both laughing and repeating what I have wrote. I felt so embarrassed for telling how I feel. Decided, I’ll never tell someone how I feel. When a teen like I was feels things like I did, it tends to become a part of a big net made of social services, music, and posts that present those feeling, so you can relate to it and you see you are not the only one to feel like that. You feel like you belong somewhere, so you become addicted to that content and those feelings.
Not so long after this phase, I started looking for a way to commit suicide but in a way so that no one would know it was a suicide. I researched a lot and found a few ways to commit suicide without anyone knowing, or at least that’s what I thought it would be like. Preparation was the key, but I was always impatient, so my methods were unsuccessful. No matter how many times or what way I would try, it wouldn’t work. Attempting suicide became my new addiction. Not an unhealthy addiction, but a deadly one. I was serious every time, but it just didn’t work. Somewhere around that period, I was diagnosed with my first disease. A neurological disease. I remember how my siblings were laughing at me and bullying me after I came out of the hospital. Parents’ behavior also changed. They’ve made a theory that I am some kind of demon and that my disease is demonic. Even more isolated now, I’ve continued suicide attempts. At some point, I decided, I’m not going to try to cover it up, I’m just gonna do it. I decided to go with the most obvious one, to jump from the building. I went to that building every day after school, but every time I was at the edge of it, I just didn’t have enough courage to do it. Like I was not finished with this world and this life. I assumed I was going to be ready one day, so I kept coming. After about 50 days of going there over and over again, I felt ready. Right when I was about to jump while preparing and saying goodbye, I heard a notification sound. It was weird cause my phone was on airplane mode. Decided to take the phone, and it was the least expected message from the least expected sender. Apart from the fact that my phone was on airplane mode, the notification was also two days late. I knew it was a sign straight from God so I went back home. A few days after, I ended up in the hospital for something related to my disease. It changed my life perception. I have realized that I am abused by my parents this whole time. I confronted them and said I would give them a new chance if they remove restrictions and rules, and, of course, change their behavior. I was so happy to leave the hospital thinking there is new life waiting for me out there. There wasn’t. After giving them tens of chances, I decided to start to fight against them. Fight to stop the abuse. Fight because my life can be much better and much more. I included my therapist, and it took me two years of hell to reach out to social service. I was supposed to be taken, but my mother somehow made the psychologist give them 15 more days to try to fix things. They didn’t. The psychologist who was working on my case never contacted me again. Social service didn’t respond. After two years of fighting to be heard, and 16 years of being abused, that’s what I get. Police were also involved, but my parents were so good at pretending that everything is fine.
A few months ago, I turned 18. I cried the whole 12 hours of the night. Just couldn’t believe nobody did anything. After my whole life of being abused, five years of all of this happening, I’ve learned a lot.
I learned to love myself and to fight for myself.
I learned that nobody deserves to be abused, manipulated, or humiliated, and the fact that I am abused doesn’t make me worth any less.
I learned that I can accomplish everything that I want, and to never stop being persistent.
I also learned that life is so beautiful and worth living.
I have understood that God picked me for this fight for a reason and that I am strong enough to fight it.
I am so close to being happy and at peace for the first time in my life, the only thing I lack to be able to go from abusive parents is money and I’m gonna make it. I’m gonna make friends and have a lot of memories. As long as I live, it’s not late.
Thank you for reading;
This is my donation link:
https://paypal.me/adak143?country.x=BA&locale.x=en_US
Thank you in advance;