You Don't Know Me.

Not like it hasn't been obvious in the last couple of days and if you really know me the last year or so but I figure that if something needs to get better there should be light shed on it.

I'm suicidal. And if you are one of the people who are going to judge me for it then you don't know me at all. So here it is.

When I was 3-4 I was sexually abused at a babysitters house. It made me feel very different from other kids and made me feel like I don't belong here on this planet, I felt like an alien. Around that time I realized that my parents didn't love each other and that I was a "mistake" this added to my feeling or not being wanted or feeling out of place. When I was 6 we moved to Tennessee and between 2nd and 3rd grade I was in 7 different classes. I didn't mind this much except it made things hard when it came to being social. When we moved to Florida things started to settle down. Until my dads pornography issues started to affect our family, I remember being 9 years old and begging my parents to stay together for the sake of my baby brother who was just a few months old. I remember being on the family computer and being sent porn from one of my dad's friends and him telling me not to look at it. I was 9 of course I looked at it. All through middle school I tried to stay to myself and my close group of friends while on the inside I knew that the only reason my family was still together was because I begged and pleated and cried for my parents to stay together. It ate away at me because I wanted us to be happy.  Through the years my dad lost jobs because of sexual harassment accusations from different woman. About a month after I turned 15 I came home from volunteering at scout camp and my dad was bringing boxes to his car. I walked over to him and saw that he was crying, all I could manage to say through the tears was "You did it again didn't you?"  I don't even remember what he said. Or if he said anything at all. That night I stayed the night at my life long friend Brittany's house. We didn't talk about it. We made a scrapbook and talked about boys. That was the night that I learned I could escape pain by focusing on other things. My 10th grade year was my favorite because I put off everything that was going on at home and I had fun. Me and Erika and Ramon and Greg. We had fun and even though I was dying inside I covered it up really well. That was also the year my love of music grew to extreme amounts. I didn't have to say how I felt because the music did it for me. High school went on that way, I worked and tried to keep my grades atleast at a normal level. When I graduated I moved to Utah for school and that was the first time my depression got really bad, I slept for days on end. It seemed like the bad news never ended. My mom lost her job. My dad hit my mom with my car. My sister was being bullied.  And for the first time in my life I wasn't there to help out.

I had been able to keep things afloat when I moved back home for a few months, even after I moved back and my best friend at the time was lying to everyone and making things really sucky it was ok. It wasn't until last year that things got really bad. People I was friends with and trusted did nothing when my name was being slandered.  The person I was in love with broke me down in every way possible and then when I tried to walk away I was asked to help him deal with things that I swore to myself I would never let in my life again. After months of back and forth it ended and I felt completely  drained, spiritually, mentally, physically. I was in and out of the hospital for leg issues. I had panic attacks everyday and in January I tried to kill myself. NOT BECAUSE OF HIM! Because Everything I had been afraid of my whole life was true. I wasn't pretty, smart, spiritual, strong, I tried to keep things together once again this time with my own relationship with my boyfriend and my friends. I felt like I didn't belong on the planet. So I tried to leave.

Over the past few months it's gotten a lot better. Sometimes it flairs up though. Like last night.

So there it is. Judge me if you want. It won't be anything new, and trust me nothing at this point can make me feel worse about myself then I already do.  I'm writing this not for attention but because I think shedding light on things make them easier sometimes.  And in the words of Nada Surf "It helps to write it down, even of you then cross it out."