I am 29 and I struggle with Depression
To understand my story I must begin before I was born…
My biological mother was shipped off with different fsmily members growing up. She had a difficult life. She was raped by her half brother and became pregnant with twins. When her half brother found out he threw her down a flight of stairs. She miscarried.
My biological mother went through rape, drug abuse and alcoholism. Her parents didnt care about her. Her profession for years was a stripper.
My biological father had a mother who loved him dearly but a father who was strict. He too went through drug abuse and alcoholism.
My biological parents marriage was always rocky. But the last two years it was a volatile environment. It got really bad to the point where my father would wait until my mother would black out from the cocaine or alcohol and he would rape her. This was a regular occurrence.
I was conceived of rape.
Now getting to the part when I was born… I was a cocaine baby which I needed to be weaned off of it. I still wonder why the hospital staff never reported the dpg. But then I wouldnt have my story to tell.
At the age of 2 years old i was shipped off regularly to my grandparents house. I would stay there from Monday to Friday. Then return home on the weekends. I was told it was because I was a difficult child.
See I had a speech impediment, behavioral issues, etc. But you will find out why soon enough. When my parents would come to pick me up for the weekend I would hide and say "here comes trouble". Little did I know my life would change in the next few years.
My biological father sexually abused me from the age of 2 to 4 years old. I remember every detail like it was been imprinted/branded deep within my memory never allowing me to escape from it. I was forced to watch porn, become intoxicated, and so much more.
My mother and sister would be sleeping in their bedrooms when he would have his way with me. Or so I thought..
My mother knew everything he was doing to me for those 2 years. Why didnt she stop him? If she was afraid why didnt she call the police? Anything to protect her child. Questions that still are left unanswered to this day.
I was alone. At 4 years old I had to save myself. So one night I called 911. Everything changed that night. The home I grew up in I would never see again. I was scared. I was confused. No one was explaining what was going on.
The cops came. Asking me all these questions I couldn't understand. I stayed quiet in fear. Who were these people in uniform. I dont know them. Then they sent me to the hospital. I'm not sick. Why are we here? They did a rape kit on me. I was even scared. Who are these people touching me where daddy touches me? They found my biological father's semen in me. Also old scar tissue and recent tearing.
The justice system failed me that year. My biological father got only 24 hours in prison. Yes, only 24 hours. Regardless of the physical proof they found it was because I did not verbally tell then he raped me. To this day I am appalled by our system. I still read the court papers and I get mad why nothing was not done.
Me and my sister went to live with my biological mother. My bedroom was a closet in the living room. The type of closet you can see through the cracks of the vents. Well I witnessed almost every night my biological mother having sexual intercourse with a different guy on each occasion.
I was in kindergarten then. I would be bullied because of my speech impediment. So I would run away daily and walk home in the busy streets of Montreal. None of the staff members ever noticed I left the school grounds.
I had forced visitations with my biological father. I kept telling my biological mother I didnt want to go. She kept making me. One day I tried to jump in front of a metro train just so I could not see him again. I was 5 years old. Social workers said it was mandatory and that I had no choice. I continued to see my biological father until I was 12. Then I was old enough to decide in the courts eyes to cut all visitations and phone calls with him. Stupid but true at the time.
Still at 5 years old I came home from kindergarten where the social worker was there. Me andcmy sisters bags were packed. We were taken to an emergency foster care. Turns out my mom didnt want me just my sister but because the social worker wouldnt allow her to keep just one well my biological mother gave away both her kids.
After arriving at the people's home…I stayed in the bed I was to sleep in. I didnt eat for four days. I kept crying for my mother. But she never came. Instead who arrived was my moms cousin who took me and my sister in.
We stayed with her from 5 years old to 18 years old. My foster mom is a social worker that protects kids. Keep that in mind that is her profession. While we lived with her she emotionally, mentally, psychologically, verbally, and physically abused me. She never touched my sister. I told her do what you want to me but dont touch my sister. I protected my sister throughout the years.
But I got kicked and punched in the stomach, nails digged into me, thrown down the stairs, dragged across the house by my hair, burn marks from a hair dryer etc
At 16 years old I ran away and stayed with a friend for a week. During that week she invited some guys over and I remember not feeling great…I woke up the next morning naked. Turns out one of the guys put something in my beer and had a little fun. Went to the hospital to get tested and I came out still a virgin. Thank God! When I returned home I received a beating.
That same year I tried to commit suicide. I kept getting bullied at school, I hated the world, myself. I couldn't take the flash backs of everything that was done to me. I was alone. No friends to talk to. No one would help me. Not even my social worker when I told her what my foster mom was doing to me. No one listened because my foster mom is a social worker. I only saw one way out. I watched YouTube videos on how to make knots. I practice and practice. Went out to the barn and tried to hang myself…something went wrong and the beam I tied the rope to snapped. Turns out the beam was rotted. Who knew? I figured someone was telling me it wasnt my time yet.
Throughout my teenage years I would cut o a regular basis. I wanted to feel physical pain rather than the emotional pain that never seemed to go away. After my suicide attempt I barely left my room. Only to eat supper and go to school. I never went out.
At 18 years old I moved out had a few mistake boyfriends who were controlling, cheaters and verbally abusive.
At 19 years old I move to montreal. I need to start fresh away from people I knew. Turns out running away catches up with you no matter where you go. I met my half brother that I found out about when I was 12 years old. We got along great. We both had been through many similar things. My biological mother had taped a note to him, left him in a high chair and never turned back. What a real winner she was.
At 20 years old, the person I thought I could trust, who understood me better than anyone( half brother) raped me. I became pregnant. I never spoke to him again. But my sister mentioned I was pregnant to him. They still talk to each other I dont.
I kept the child growing inside me. I dont believe in abortions or abandoning children even if it's a tradition in my family. When my son was born I was diagnosed with post partum depression. Took a year to finally snap out of it and start loving my son. But I surpassed it.
When my son was a year old I met a man who delivered our animal feed every week. We would talk about the weather. One day I added him on facebook. He messaged me and we started talking. We were together for 4 years. After we got engaged in the second year he became possessive, controlling, psychologically abusive. When I started having panick attacks I would be less intimate with him. I just didnt feel I was physically or mentally okay. And well he got aggressive in his tone. Called me a bitch because I would rather relax or go to bed.
What made me leave…was that I found out by his mother he was hitting my son. The day she told me that was the day I left and I never looked back. My son took it hard. He was the only father he knew. But I knew I had to protect my child. I have those mother instincts unlike my mother did.
Me and my son moved to a housing where they help people who have been abused. I got help for my son as well as for me. My son was diagnosed when he was 4 years old with autism. And when he was 6 years old diagnosed also with ADHD. He didnt get these diagnosis because his father is my half brother. His father had another child who is autistic. Turns out the father has autism.
Anyways the day I left my ex if 4 years was the same day my panick attacks stopped. I found out what was causing it so the next step was healing from it. I still have anxiety. Especially when in stores or meeting new people but I'm getting there slowly.
Currently I have 3 jobs and also 3 side contracts. I am a single mother to a special needs child with no child support. I own a house by the water. I own 2 vehicles. My son has all that he needs. We are both healthy mentally and physically.
I have came a long way. Some days are still harder than others. But I continue to keep fighting. I am not a victim but a warrior. The odds were against me throughout my life. I may have been bullied, abused in every way imaginable even left broken but I'm still here. Still trying, still healing. Still moving forward. Who I am today was built from the pits of darkness but I came out stronger than ever in the end. My story is not over it's only just the beginning!
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