I’m 22 years old and my whole life, since I was a little girl, has been hell. I was adopted by my maternal grandparents when I was 5 months old, which wasn’t so bad since I didn’t have the capacity to understand what was happening. They legally adopted me as their Daughter. My grandfather was a military man and my grandmother was a simple seamstress. I can’t complain that they left me suffer basic necessities cause they would do everything and anything to make sure I had everything I needed. My grandfather, as an army man, he was rough with us. He wouldn’t even let me go to the yard to play and he didn’t let me play with anyone ” cause he didn’t want me to get hurt “. As I grew up, I wanted to have fun and share with other kids, but I couldn’t. Even in school I was the weird fat little girl who didn’t know how to communicate with anyone. My grandparents were these type of people that gave manner trough punishment, but the physical kind. So every time I would go outside and play or do anything else they didn’t like, I would get a beating. With whatever they could get their hands on. Also I grew up knowing my birth parents didn’t want nothing with me. My mother was a junkie and a drunk and who knew who my dad was. Thing is, as a little girl, it was very depressing knowing these things…hearing the stories about my mom throwing my carriage down a flight of stairs and putting alcohol in my milk bottle and other outrageous things. I was a little girl who would cry every time it was parents day at school, or when kids use to talk about how cool their parents were. I would cry myself to sleep, cause my parents didn’t want me. Don’t get me wrong, know I understand and I love my grandparents, they were my mom and dad cause they were the ones who raised me to be the woman I am today, with all the beatings and everything else. I am thankful cause without them I would be dead. My grandfather died days before I turned 11 and that drove me crazy. I was lost and depressed and I wanted to die cause “daddy” wasn’t there anymore. I started cutting and burning myself, it actually made me feel better and the pain took my mind of my grandpas death for a while. Then I started piercing myself, first piercing I did was my second lobe. Then I got my nose, my lip, my brow and before I knew it I had over 16 piercings. I did them all myself, except the brow. Then when i was 15, I got my first tattoo. My school life went down the drain in middle school. They saw my scars and they sent my grandmother a letter telling her that if she didn’t get me a psych evaluation, they’d expel me. So she questioned me and then she made an appointment with a psychologist. When we went to the appointment, the first thing the Dr. told me was that I could trust him and tell him how I felt, that everything we would discuss would only be between him and me cause of patient-doctor confidentiality. I was actually relieved somebody wanted to listen to me, so I started talking. I told him everything from the start. I told him how my childhood was so lonely and painful, about my mom and dad and why my grandparents adopted me, about how I hated my life and I was tired of the pain, etc. He diagnosed me with depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder and like 2 other things I do not remember. Then he broke his oath and twisted my words, he told my grandmother that I hated my family, but that I hated her most of all and a lot of other shit I didn’t say. My grandmother’s heart was broken. I kept telling her that that wasn’t true, that I had told him that I was tired and I hated being in so much pain from a little age, but she didn’t believe me, cause of course the doctor was more trustable than me. I hated the doctor for it, cause even though he broke his oath, I hated him more cause he hurt my grandmothers feelings with lies. After that they medicated me, they prescribed me with 5 different pills. I was 15 and it only made me more depressed. Then my grandma took the papers to school and they accepted me back in. Then when I made it to high school, I would never go into class. I didn’t care about anything anymore. I was tired and pissed at the world. after I turned 18, they expelled me. I got into an abusive relationship with a metal guy who was a druggie. He use to take me when he desired, even if I didn’t want to have sex and then he’d beat me up. I took his shit for a year, until I became pregnant. When I told him about it, he beat me up and threw me against the wall and took me…again. I was left with a black eye and bruises all over. Four months later, I lost my baby…due to physical stress. I have never stopped blaming myself for not getting out of that relationship in time. It cost me my baby’s life. Then I kicked him out and I slowly started picking myself up. I realized I was almost 20 and I hadn’t even finished high school. So I enrolled in nocturnal high school and I got through it with honors. Then in december, when I graduated from highschool I enrolled myself in college as a nursing major and here I am, at 22 weeks from my Nursing Associates Degree Graduation.
My point with this post is to let you know, that everyone has a backstory. Not because someone has a pretty smile on their face, it means their life is great, sometimes it’s their soul screaming for help.