My First suicidal ideation was at 6 years old. I recall me sitting in the cafeteria of the Ferryway school in Malden Massachusetts, I was in the after school program watching a movie. I remember dissociating into the tiles on the walls, thinking to myself “Why am I here…? Why do I exist…? Why do I matter?” And ever since then I would fantasize about disturbing things happening to me. I remember one day my father went into the KFC that was in Chelsea, Massachusetts. I was sitting there in the car, and had fantasized about being kidnapped, that’s just one example of the fantasies.
I grew up with parents that always fought. I remember my father pulling my mother by her hair. I also remember hearing screaming behind the door. One day there was a bang, so loud I was startled. There was a hole in the wall, my mother was sobbing holding her face. This was normal to me. If I misbehaved I would get pelted with a belt. I remember one day, I had asked my mother if I could take a bath, she told me to ask my father and he had said no. I went to go update her on his answer and had walked away. My father assumed I asked my mother against his back, and beat me. He later apologized but it was too late the damage was done. When I was 12 or just turned 13, in 7th grade my father had whipped me so hard I couldn’t sit down at my desk at school all because I had told a white lie. I was too scared to tell him the truth. That lie costed me a visit to the guidance counselors office. She told me I was being abused, and I just shrugged it off.
I started self harming at 13, when my father left my mother. My parents were fighting so bad they forced me to stay at a friends house for 2 weeks during the school year. My father came to pick me up and said we were gonna do all my favorite things. (We didn’t) He told me he was no longer going to be living with us, said him and my mom are getting a divorce. I started self harming so intensely that when I was forced to roll up my sleeves in the counselors office the school counselor saw the thousands of slices surrounding my entire arm, there was not one spec of un-sliced skin. You’d think I would of been hospitalized right? Wrong. Instead my family judged me, and was beyond disappointed in me. At least Ms. Murray cared.
My first suicide attempt was at 15… I was in my grandmothers house in malden, about to climb on the roof and jump off head first. My best friend, Mathew at the time, was able to talk me out of it.
I remember sitting in the bathroom, listening to music, mostly a band called Flyleaf, for at least 5 hours at a time every day, slicing my skin open, trying to not kill myself. I would even carve words into my thighs, mostly things like “I’m sorry.”
I was thrown out at 17. Forced to move in with Mathew. My own family didn’t want me.
Mathew abused me for years after moving in. I lived with him till I was 21.
I remember going to school with fat lips and black eyes. I had never been more suicidal in my life, I lost count with the number of attempts at this point.
I had a few good friends. Malik, Katie, Mat. These were the people I was closest too. Malik was the only male companion I was allowed to have. Mathew was too jealous of anyone else.
After we graduated, I got pregnant with Mathew at 19. I thought - or had hoped the abuse would stop when I got pregnant, and it did for a few months but then it got worse. I was forced to leave him when he beat the fuck out of me in front of our child, who was not even a year old, but old enough to be aware of what was happening, and it terrified her watching her mother get beaten. It destroyed me so much seeing the fear in her face, I was numb to every punch, kick, and didn’t feel when he through me down to the ground. I made a promise to myself to never expose her to that, ever again.
Within an 8 month span, Malik had died, I left Mathew and Katie over-dosed on the day we were going to celebrate Michelle’s first year around the sun.
Great now I have abandonment issues, or maybe I already developed them when my father left, or maybe when my family threw me away. Everyone I love either abuses me, abandons me, or just fucking drops dead.
So then I went back to my grandmothers in malden, with my mom, two brothers and grandma before I went to hospitalize myself. Which, spoiler alert, it was obvious my family was incredibly annoyed I was there.
I ended up choosing homelessness over staying with my family… would of rather stay in a 2005 Dodge Ram Caravan for a year while I found my own place then stay in that house.
I finally got my place, made a friend who was also homeless, who ended up just abusing me as well. Stole all my furniture and left me with absolutely nothing in my apartment.
Then, I met Eric. We dated for 3+ years. The first year it was a great relationship but then… when I moved in he started to drink heavy, and would beat me when he would. I quickly found myself starting to self harm again. All I have ever known my entire existence is abuse and trauma. He almost killed me, numerous times honestly… beat me till my eye was protruding or bulging out. To this day, I still have a black eye from that last night.
He would cry, screaming, apologizing for all the times he’d hurt me just to beat me not even 30 seconds later.
I moved back into my grandmothers house, and started playing the cinderella role I have played my entire life. Cleaning up after everyone, until I just couldn’t take it anymore.
I ended up moving back in with Mathew, yeah, I know how insane that sounds. He’s made corrective actions to be a better person and is now my best friend again, but I still have nightmares because of him. I don’t think they’ll ever stop. But… his brother recently died 07/31, and I moved in after everything to be closer to my child, to get away from Eric, and to help around the house.
I find myself always putting the needs and emotions of others before mine… I don’t want anyone to feel the way I constantly do.
I want the people I care about to know they are safe here, with me.
The thing about me, is… even though all I have ever known was abuse, and suffered from suicidal ideations my whole life my light still shines bright, I still smile, and all I ever want to do is make others smile. I have made countless efforts to better my life, my mindset, and to exchange laughs… and I owe it to myself to find happiness no matter how many times I was beaten, held down, or forced to drown. For as long as my heart keeps beating, I’ll never stop fighting.
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