I was thinking that we should make a thread dedicated to our lives. This is “Share your Stories” now what I’m going to ask is going to be tough, and its going to suck, and I doubt everybody is going to do it (I’m not even sure if I’m going to do this yet but I might) but what I want this thread to be, is a place to tell your story, your life not matter what it is. Everybody’s story is different, unique, and each person should have the opportunity to share it. I was reading through old threads and realized that there are many stories buried in here, so I thought I’d make one thread for people to post on. Only post here if you want to however, nobody forcing you, however, this option is out there if you want to take it.
heh, my life, it might look good to people on the outside, but on the inside, to me... it's hell. I was brought up getting almost everything i wanted, don't take this to be saying that we're rich, we're far from rich, but, i have gotten alot of what i've wanted. But then i got... idk, the hope sucked outta me, like the dementors in Harry Potter, it was like there was nothing to live for. I started to cut, i do have all the fucking scars to prove it, and then i tried to kill myself, and now, after i've done the whole hospital thing, i feel myself slipping back, and it scares the shit outta me, but that is just part of my life, probably one of the worst parts.
"A glass of depression chilled with ice made of addiction. Seven years wasted loving a liquid more than myself. And it will stop only when I do!"
I'm not sure if I have a right to post here as a newbi but..if it helps someone then that’s really all that matters..
I can’t remember the exact day my life changed…I just know from that day forth I lived in fear and a form of Hell I wouldn’t wish on the Devil himself. My Mothers whole persona change overnight, Why..I can't be certain though I feel she was suffering from some Mental Health issues and drug addiction. Both she and her psychotic boyfriend were seriously ill, (though at the time I was too young to understand the severity of the situation.) I have never met my father, and wonder whether if it would really change things if I did. The first time alcohol touched my lips I was 7…I had no choice as it was being force fed to me by my Mother as a form of punishment for not getting all my “spelling words” correct on a test. Either I drank…or I feared I would be dead by morning…my life changed that day..forever.. The "punishments" continued from that day on…and escalated into emotional and physical abuse…a weekly barrage of verbal and physical assaults that still linger in my memory to this day. They were a form of control by my Mother and her then boyfriend(s). Nothing I did could have stopped the onslaught of their cruelty. Whatever wrongs she felt had been placed upon her, it became my fault. I was her constant misery.
I was taken out of primary school and was "homeschooled" from age 8...(until the day I left home at age 12)..To many questions were being asked….yet no one fought to hear the answers..so I slipped silently through the cracks.. Drinking became an ever present constant in my daily survival and something’s you just can’t change. Others..well it becomes a normal daily routine..normal for you that is.. I forfeited my life for the life of a child who had to grow up to fast and as a consequence became a child alcoholic by the age of 10. Nothing prepares you for life’s little rollercoaster’s. You just hang on for the ride and pray you get off unscathed. Which in my case didn’t happen..scarred on the inside and out..I had no choice but to leave.. I admit that even though at the age of 10 I realized, in some small way that I would never be the same. By this time I was drinking on my own as a form of escape rather than survival. It took the place of reality;or my world. I found solace in the shape of a bottle and it continued even after I left home. Living on the streets was not a pleasure, rather just another test of my sanity or insanity. I had stopped talking; rarely spoke a word for months at a time. The damage had been done and what was left was a shell of a person not yet developed. Yet..I still felt deep inside that there was a place for me, somewhere. I met Jai, who had gone through rehab and failed miserably two days after arriving in Alberta. We’ve been inseparable ever since....well almost. When I no longer could function in that world, or this one; after falling about 25 feet down a ravine and impaling my left hand on a branch at the bottom..I had had enough..I wanted out of this life. Jai talked me into going for help..he walked me to the doors of a clinic..hugged me good-bye and when I turned around he was gone. Left alone to fend for myself once again I knew this was my one and only chance to redeem myself..to find that person I so wanted to be. Detox was Hell...Rehab was a reality check that took sometime. I found it hard to trust anyone and in the end they brought in the “Big Guns” as they refer to Rick and Byran. These two “in your face” giants had me reeling within the first session and thank God for them because I was ready to walk out those doors. The pain of trying to recount what childhood I remembered was having its toll on me. Finally they broke through the barrier and within two weeks I was actually starting to open up, only to them however. Group was still hard for me. I didn’t feel safe but I got over that too, in time.. So at 14 ½ I had to learn what being a human being entailed. I found a retreat in books and suffice it to say, I read ferociously, anything and everything..(Though I must admit I detest romance novels). I was offered the chance to take part in a new project through the Youth Emergency Shelter. A chance for a new beginning, my chance. Thus I became the youngest member of the “At Risk” project. And within a few months I had enough courage to go before the courts and ask for emancipation. I received my wish. on my 15th birthday. It is a day I will never forget. Rick stood with me before the judge as I told my story and I am forever in his debt. It was granted and I walked away feeling like I gained some semblance of my life back. No more worries about whether “she” could ever harm me again. From that day onwards I was the soul responsibility..of me.
It was about that time that the kids in our residence decided to start our own project called. “Forgotten Angels” ;a group of teens who walk the streets together at night looking for other at risk youth who need a second chance. It was during one of these nights that I found Jai again. It had been almost 7 months since I last saw him. and it was a reunion to mark all reunions. At first he didn’t recognize me and when I spoke he could only smile.. Hooked on drugs and in need of rehab himself, I knew the exact person to help him, if he agreed. That night he refused, and for another three weeks he did the same. But on that fourth week to my surprise he accepted the offer As we walked to the 24 hour clinic..I could tell he was not sure of his choice, having second thoughts, but when we reached the door, as he did before me, I hugged him and walked away leaving it in his hands. The rest is history.
To this day we remain best friends and share everything that has made us who we are today. He is in college now and doing great. I just finished grade 11 and made honors. I was asked to study with the Writer in Residence at the University for the summer, and am looking forward to grade 12.
People often ask me if I found “God” during my rehab. I hate to disappoint them. What I found was a realism that gives me the strength to face each day. My writing and my music have seen me through a sometimes soulless journey. But I made it.and that’s all that counts..at least for me.
“In every life we must face adversity; its how you choose to walk away from it that makes the person you will become.” Jazzii
"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."
I was never Mr. "Let's Go Be Friends" I was the bookish loner who was regarded as odd. and they were right, I was odd, I read an ass tone and the world as far as I cared could go fuck themselves.
that kept up for a long ass time
Grades were told to go fuck off as well so despite intelligence I got poor grades. The Marines changed that. I changes that
I hated my existance (7th-8th grades) and I decided that I needed to hold myself to a high standard. I wanted to prove that I could do it, so I chose the toughest group of individuals I could find. the next four years are almost inconsequntial because everything I did (beyond a little dating here and there, plus some hell raising) was for The Corps. I belong to them and now I finally go to take my place
"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, "You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I'm just not close enough to get the job done"."
I guess my first memories of my life are from when I was five. I went to a Montessori kindergarten, where, even at such a young age, I felt completely out of place. I didn't say much, but my teachers said this was normal for a kid my age - I was just shy.
In first grade I attended a local Catholic school. I refused to talk at all in class; once I was almost sent to special education. That was pretty much how it went all through sixth grade. I was barely passing some of my classed because participation was a huge part of the grade.
After sixth grade, my parents decided that they were fed up with the parochial school system, and I entered seventh grade at the public junior high school. My relationship with my mom and dad was deteriorating, because they didn't understand why I wouldn't talk, and they thought I was just being difficult. I did have one teacher I talked to though, my English teacher, and we had a sort of bond throughout the year.
Around that time my life seemed to just sort of come apart at the seams. I couldn't focus on anything, I never slept at night, and I just didn't care about life anymore.
In eighth grade, things got a little better and a little worse. I met my best friend Anna, who was homeschooled but came to school for one class. However, during that year I started cutting myself and feeling more and more suicidal. I also had a sort of anorexic phase, but that came and went pretty quickly.
Now I am homeschooled with Anna, which is a lot better, but I am still cutting and want to kill myself. I don't really understand this because nothing really bad has ever happened to me. I was also diagnosed with a social anxiety disorder, which is why I don't talk.
I know my life isn't as bad as some people's, but it feels good to get it out.
Li sempre essera le domande, non importa cio che la lingua.
... i don't think i've earned the right to post an article and label it 'my life', because i feel like i'm starting anew after messing up for nineteen years.
for thirteen years, i felt like i'd lived pretty much a 'normal' life. i never had a constant set of friends because my dad, working in the air force, was always moving us about. when i was twelve, i was taken on holiday to the hills, and that was the first time i felt depressed. and suddenly i remembered something i've tried to ignore all my childhood. i remembered my uncle molesting me constantly while i stayed over at my grandmother's. i remember telling her; i remember her whispering to her sister how they would keep it a secret from anyone else, i remember her telling me not to tell my parents. i was growing into a teenager, and to me it seemed that every newspaper carried only stories of sexual abuse and rape. i was only recently becoming aware of sex and sexuality, and this was painful. for two years i cried over it, deciding what was worse: knowing i had been abused, or keeping it from my mum. and finally i decided to tell her. she hugged me and told me it was ok. and then she said: don't tell your dad. and you see, it still remains a painful secret, either way.
the other thing that haunted me for most of my teen years was my parents' weird relationship. i'd seen them fight all my life, and i thought what they did was what every parent did, but it wasn't. i'd seen my dad hit my mum countless times. i've seen her cry. i've seen that heart-breaking look on her face when she tries to take in what he'd just done. i've seen my dad not even feeling sorry. it was horrible. 'til i was fifteen i would stay awake at night until they went to bed, just so that if they started a fight i could go stop anything horrid from happening. i used to pray each night and cry about it in school. and it still hasn't stopped.
so after a string of silly flings, including ones where i was the 'other girl' i fell in love with a boy. i stayed with him, lying to my mum, for one and a half years. my mum kept trying to break us up, but i refused. it was fine, he was loving and he was good to me. he told me so much, about our future, how he'd never be without me. i gave up many of my guy friends, didn't go out as much without him, and last night he told me i was clingy and obsessive. he's changed, and he wants me to adjust to his new rules because now he wants to spend time away from me. but i won't. i'm going to give my love to someone who appreciates me. and i'm telling him that. soon.
i'm also going to work my ass off through my final exams, and i'm going to princeton. and i'm going to be fine
so yeah, this is how i'm starting anew.
" ... if you want to be free, be free because there's a million things to be." Cat Stevens.
My story is not the worst by far, nor is it the best. Some of my first memories were being molested by my neighbor (who thankfully moved away after only a few years) and then by my older cousin. His father just recently died of a heroin od, leaving my favorite little cousin and this cousin pretty much to fend for themselves. I'm not a pretty kid, kind of chubby, but average looking. I've had my times of torment from the girl bullies, but always got on well with the guys. I was never much of a girly girl, i'd rather stick up for myself. My cousin stopped when I was around 10, and since then I've told nobody but my boyfriend, and now you. My mother is amazing, she's pretty much the only good influence that I had in my childhood, but she works a lot. She doesn't step in, and she doesn't understand most of the time (she had cancer when she was a teen, and missed out on most of the experiences) but i think i can say i love her. But she made a huge mistake with her life when she married my dad. He didn't go to any sort of college, he smokes, and he is a drunk. Some of the fights they had I was positive would end in all of us dead, but miraculously they never did. When I was younger I made friends easily, I was a part of everything, all by choice, nothing by force. I've been playing soccer since I was 5, and my dad has only seen part of one of my games in the finals of nationals, I am now fifteen. He makes promises and then goes to bars, or out with friends. I don't know why he does it, but he does. Sometimes he just leaves for days on end, and then when he comes back everyone acts as if he was never gone. My brother is pretty cool, if I ask, he'll help me, but he keeps pretty much to himself. When i was in 7th grade, i didnt see any of my friends in school. i kind of became a loner. sort of emo, i guess. But thats the year i met my best friends, jess and annie, on my first big-time soccer team. it was great. in 8th grade, things shaped up a bit for me. Although I was happier, this is when I started to cut some, cause I was most unhappy at home. Everyone pretty much just left me to whatever, and I structured myself. I was captain of the field hockey team, track team, and a key player on my soccer teams. My dad was as bad as ever though, and often I'd be the last one after games, waiting for a parent. One time he didn't show up at all. I'd spend most of my nights alone, because my mom worked and my dad went off and did whatever with his friends. I always had time to get great grades, and I motivated myself to do it cause i didn't want to end up anything like my father. That's still the driving force behind me, as a sophmore. I don't want to become anything like my father. I will never drink, smoke, do drugs, or have any sort of sex before I'm ready/or married. I have my morals and I stand by them.
Now I'm pretty well off, I take honors math, science, and english, a high art, and regular history. I play varsity soccer, state soccer, along with two club teams. Im hoping to make varsity lacrosse, and JV basketball. I've got an amazing boyfriend, who is also my best friend, who pretty much keeps me sane. He's there for me when I get down, and somehow manages to make me laugh when I didn't even want to smile. I love him to death, and I don't know what i'd do without him. I don't know where I want to go with my life but I'm keeping my mind open, just as long as I don't do what my father did, and waste my life.
I know nobody's going to read this, but it feels good to put it down, kind of like a bit of history in a book, maybe nobody will read it, but it will be there for reference.
Well...I guess my life story isn't like the greatest one but not the worst... Well when I was....i think 7 it was a long time ago so I don't remeber alot but my parents,use to get into very violent arguments...to them it was just arguments not fights...Well yeah...when I was 8 everything calmed down...I suppose it got somewhat better Then at age 10 My parents were split up... It was coming sooner or later... My mom became an alchoholic...pill popper whatever I didnt see my dad at all... mabey once every year for 3 years Ummm...by 13 I had self esteem issues and became...what my friends call "emo" Yeah...Very suicidal... But I still haven't seen my dad.... well...for a long period of time at least... I think theres no point.... still when i was 13...I was molested =/ Umm...I became more suicidal... cutting...Trying to overdose whatever...ugh....you know its so freakin hard doing this...I'm not much of a talker,even if it isn't talking...but yeah.... well 14...I guess I started doing a little better I had the "who gives a fuck" attitude I tried my best in school.... It didnt work out.... i got horrible grades.... my mom bitched at me i kept trying but i wasnt focused.... and again I was suicidal.... Hard core cutting..... I started to just get everything together and now 15 im doing somewhat better my grades are better still somedays im suicidal... but im getting better...
Conclution: No matter how hard they try to move on, there are somethings that can happen to a person that they can never recover from. Cause trust me I've tried, and yet I still suffer from memories that make me relive it.
Torture is a horrible thing... if only I could get it out of my head.
In many ways we are all our own worst enemies. We are so very critical of ourselfs. We judge ourselfs more than other people judge ourselfs. In many ways this is a bad thing but there are good sides to everything the thing is you have to find them....
If you judge everything you do then it will always be your best, right? Well thats what i alwasys thought. In my high school career I have stood back and tried to do my own thing. I ahve done my work the best i could do or at least I thought so. Now I am a junior in high school, gettting ready to go to college and I have realizeD I could have done alot better. I am praying that I can go to college where I intended all my life going. There is doubts in the back of my mind. So you need to be critical to yourself.
i have a firm beleif that everything happens for a reasen for 8 years i was nomal, then my dad got laid off his job so we moved to taylorsville ut to be closer to my dads family. my brother sister and i got closer to him then a year later he died of meningitis (men-en-ji-tis)my mom had to start working full time and couldent leave us alone at home for the 4 hours after school so we started to build a house with my grand parents when we moved we moved she decicded she didn't agree with what the public shools taught so she started to home school us. so i had a whole day that i didn't haver anything to do so i we't up to thanksgiving point where my brother started working, and found that i could voulenteer up there. since i'm not shy anymore i can interact with people and adults better. and i have made a lot of good freinds that give the best advice that i have ever heard. if non of this had happend i wouldent be the kind of person i am today for that i am thankfull
if you life had been perfict would you be the person you are today
When I was five, my mother started hitting me. I didn't know it was wrong at the time, but obviously, it is. Then, when I was about 8, my mom died from alcohol poisoning. In her will, it stated that her sister got custody of me. She must put on a really good show, because I lived in the backroom of a bar for ten years. I spent countless hours at night trying to study, with no light, except maaybe once in a while I'd get a small flashlight. I gave up homework and everything, but somehow I managed to graduate high school. I was grateful, I finally got out of my hell a year ago, and now I'm a student at CU. My aunt still tries to stay in touch, but I never gave her or my mother forgivness. I know it's not as...troublesome or exciting as everyone elses' lives. BUt I know there is no such thing as a happy ending.
"A new Generation" is a new term for "the world isn't good enough without more people."
Hmm...well let's start when things really started to matter.
When I was nine, my dad started flying to New York every weekend. He claimed he was going to look for jobs and houses out there so we could move. About 6 months later, while he was on one of his trips, my mom told my brothers (who, at the time, were 7 and 3) and I that he'd been cheating on her for three years with a woman he met on the internet and that when he went to New York, he was really going to see her. And that when he locked himself in his room for 19 hours a day, he was on the phone with her or webcamming with her.
My mom {with a little of my help} took apart his computer {his computer was his life} and got rid of it. He got home the next day and...well let's just say he was really mad. They got in a huge fist fight, and he was gonna kill her and was threatening to kill my brothers and I. My parents spent the night in jail. Then they filed for divorce, but never went through with it.
Then he took off one summer when I was ten. He called and said he was in Louisiana, but my mom traced the calls to his girlfriend's house in New York. Every day, instead of going outside and playing with my friends, I was watching my little brothers and taking care of them while my my mom was at work and my dad was in New York with some MySpace whore. He came back at the end of the summer, because my brother wasn't old enough for school yet and couldn't just stay home by himself.
Everything was okay for a while, until last spring when my mom and I were fixing up some walls in the living room. He'd wanted to do it, and for about a year kept putting it off. My mom really wanted it done, and was basically like fuck him. He went out for the night, and my mom and I had almost finished. Then he came in and got really pissed. They got into another fist fight, and my dad tried to commit suicide by drug overdose. He was taken to a hospital where he was diagnosed with bi-polar depression and forced to stay in an insane assylum. He was released a little while later and everything's been pretty much normal since then.
Yep. Story of my life.
And I would never feel pain / and never be without pleasure, ever, again / and if the reign stops, and everything's dry, he would cry just so I could drink the tears from his eyes...
When I was 8, something happened to me that pretty much changed the way I looked at life. I had always trusted my father, until that 1 day. After that, I stopped trusting people. My teachers always wondered why I was so silent after I had been loud since kindergarden. They put me in Special Ed. because I didn't talk.
When I was 11, I started cutting. It wasn't like, relieve my pain through a different kind of pain. It was, make sure I'm still alive. I kept hoping I would be able to feel the stinging of my slices as they grew deeper and deeper, but I never did. I never felt anything again. At age 15, I left home and stayed with one of my "friends" for awhile. But then something happened there too, and I was forced to move on. I wish I could die, but it seems the people that want it the most, those are the people that can't have it. I've tried to commit suicide 5 times in my life. One was not that long ago. And at night I feel like there's nothing to do but take a lighter and hold the flame to my skin, as I watch it glow red with heat. There's nothing left for me. Although, I don't believe there was anything for me to begin with, except, maybe the potential for there being something.
Something happened between my father and I when I was 10, and because of that I've hated him unlike I've ever hated anyone before.
So much so to the point where I'd pray to God so that he'd die - in a car crash, murdered by someone, I didn't care, I wanted him dead.
I hate to admit this, but at one point I almost wanted to drive this knife through him (I was slicing something at the moment). You've no idea how thankful I am that I didn't.
My friends would come over, and I'd pretend to be nice to my father, but I'd be gagging inside for having to talk to him that sweetly.
No one knows about this. I went to church, and made a confession.
I promised myself this had to stop, and it did, kind of. Now I don't hate him, but I do get easily annoyed by him, but it's not so bad anymore.
I haven't had a proper talk with my father for 8 years now.
Topics 
this is a bad night.
