Mar 16, 2009
Hey, i m mel, a messed up bubble loner person created by the traumatic past experiences.. I feel like sharing.. I usually never share.. but i m learning sharing gets the **** out.. so here s my life..
Born into a semi happy family.. my dad got ill when i was 5.. later diagnosed with a bipolar mental disorder.. he was beaten badly when he was young.. alcoholic dad he had.. he once told me he got tied up like a dog with a leash and left outside to sleep.. so the thing was repetative.. he sexually abused me all my life.. well from like 5 to 11 yrs.. he used to slit his wrist infront of me.. cut himself too.. he would 'peter la coche' and break everything around the house.. beat my mom.. right infront of us.. break all her belongings too.. never his.. he used to have this music box.. it played the love story song.. he played it all the time when he didn t feel well.. i love that song.. it makes me cry.. bt I love it, i want that music box someday.. its my moms..
I have a younger bro n sis.. they re twins.. i had to grow up fast and be there mommy.. cuz my mommy was too busy taking care of daddy.. we slept many nights in the car in hospital parking lots.. with no food or blankets.. we also built a cabane in the woods.. cuz we often had to go there to hide cuz my dad was threatening to kill us all.. cuz he was in a manik episode.. and escaped the mental ward to come find us.. it was nice tho.. the cabane i mean.. we fixed it up all homey.. we had food and everything in there.. it was my safe place.. it was in the woods next to my house.. but scary sometimes at night.. hearing the owls and coyotes etc..
My daddy used to wake us up at like 3 am to go to tim hortons cuz he felt like it.. it was nice tho.. we got to have donutes.. or he would randomely decide to take us to our cottege.. well my moms dads cottege.. way up north.. in the middle of the night.. drive drive drive.. it was fun tho.. but i really didn t have n e stability in my life..
Oh.. his gambling problem.. he spent everything.. i never had new cloths.. but I was happy second hand existed.. food was rare tho.. and the only reason we got to keep our house was that my mommys daddy was rich and paid for us.. he used to take me for the whole summer at his place.. it was nice.. he was like a father to me.. he bought me stuff all the time.. tried to make me smile i guess.. cuz he knew what was going on and he felt bad.. but you see i live in a don t talk for appearence family.. so i was never really pulled away from daddy s arms.. i was just temporaly gifted all the time.. to make me smile.. but god knows i couldn t talk.. i was afraid to anyways.. i didn t kno wat was really happening.. to me this was my life.. and it was normal..
I know all the lachute, st-jerome, hawkesbury etc cops.. most of the hospital workers too.. i rememebr once my daddy after a huge fit.. tried to kill himself.. ambulance.. cops.. everyone was there.. neighbours peeking threw there windows and bla bla bla.. rumers on us again.. happened to many times.. but i still rememebr this kind officer asking me if i was ok.. holding me in his arms.. i was crying my eyes out.. i was six.. i would like to meet him again one day.. and tell him i never forgot him and tell him a thank you.. but meh.. i don t even kno his name..
Yeah and our secret family codes.. when i would arrive from school.. if the blinds were all shut.. it ment daddy was fliping out.. it meant don t come in.. go hide in the cabane.. so i took my bro n sis and hid in there.. for hours.. usually i ended up seeing cops pull up in the drive way.. taking my daddy away.. once he left we were allowed to go inside.. but .. we had to pick up another mess.. nevermind our homework.. clean the mess.. broken mirrors, cups, plates everything everywhere..
Mommy was always crying.. i felt bad for her.. i always wondered why she never left him.. the worst is she s still with him.. but i came to understand she s scared.. but i really do wish i could help her..
I hated christmas family parties on my daddys side of the family.. fights all the time.. one time my dads daddy was so drunk he took a turkey knife and tried to kill my daddy right infront of us all.. it was traumatizing.. but meh.. many things were.. my daddys mommy was always bitching at my mom to take care of daddy.. and telling her she wasn t doing her wife job right.. i don t like her very much.. i mean what kind of mommy would wake her son up by poking him hard with a stick??.. She was abusive towards him too.. used to make my daddy go get his daddy in bars all the time.. oh.. when my dad himself became an alcoholic.. didn t suite him at all.. you kno how peep can do alcohol.. well some just cant.. and him he mixed it with his pills all the time.. bad idea.. made him wild and mean.. he once pushed my mommy threw the patio door.. again infront of us all.. and he laughed bout it.. weird..
Yeah bout the abuse on me.. well once.. i was home a lil later.. and my mommy said my daddy wanted to see my in his office.. yeah he had an office.. downstairs.. with a door that locked.. well my mom threw me down there and my dad locked the door.. he did it.. again.. and said it was my punishment for not listening.. it happened often.. i hated that room..
I was never allowed to go to, nor to have friends over.. i had this one friend.. but she was my neighbour and was only allowed in the yard.. we spent all our days playing outside in the yard.. we wern t allowed to stay inside.. at school kids would look and laugh at me.. cuz i was shy and never said a word.. and the rumers.. on my family.. teachers always asked me wat was wrong.. i never spoke.. but i had good grades.. i liked school.. it was a get away.. i didn t have many friends.. cuz i was too weird for anyone.. once me n my sis tried to run away from school.. we had had enough.. but we got caught and the youth protection was called.. thats when i went to see a psyche for the first time, I was 8 years old, she knew right away what my dad was doing.. but since i wouldn t talk she had no proof and couldn t do much..
I pee'd my bed till 13 yrs old.. due to the sexual abuse i guess.. when i was at my grandpapa s in summer i would wake up in the middle of the night screaming.. no daddy dont !!.. my grandma always tried to snap me out of it.. i was like in a pschosis.. took a while for me to come back.. they never did any thing on that issue either..
When i was 13 they finaly decided enough was enough.. my aunt and uncle.. my moms brother.. took me in.. i had my own room they bought me a computer.. among many other things.. i was happy..i was cutting a lot tho.. was sent to grandpapa s that morning.. he told me he called the youth protection.. but i freaked and said i wanted to go back home.. i did.. thats when i was in highschool.. i freaked out so bad on the first day.. too many new people and f*** it was big.. but i adapted slowly.. the cutting myself got worse.. i used to skip class .. crying in the bathrooms.. cutting myself.. teacher would find me and i had to see the school concellers.. i slowly began to talk.. but each time they offered to help i freaked out and backed away.. i found a way to let everyone know what was going on.. in my english essays i would write a lot bout my experiences.. freaked teachers out tho.. so i stoped..
The youth protection was called many times.. but they never did ****.. us kids we sure knew how to keep the family secret.. at 14.. the youth protection finaly did something.. i was put in a foster home.. i freaked out tho.. i m afraid of any thing new.. I ran away the first night.. with another girl who was my best friend , i was brought back the same night tho.. her she was sent to lock down.. ****** deal.. I stayed three days at the home.. my parents managed to get me back home..
Thats when my bulimia started.. it was the only thing i had control over..it got bad too.. i m stuck on pills now for acid reflex cuz i f***ed up my throat so bad. the cutting just got worse and worse.. when my dad found out i was cutting.. the school had called them.. i came home and my dad was waiting for me with a knife.. he put it in my face and said i want you to cut yourself infront of me.. he forced me too.. i was so ashamed.. just made it worse tho.. by then the sexual abuse had stopped tho.. bang .. just like that.. i guess his pills were working.. he calmed down a bit for a few yrs.. but i was aleady way to ****** up.. depression and all..
At 15 i planned a school shooting but i wasn t really gonna do it.. it was mostly a desperate cry for help.. cops came to get me in french class.. searched my locker and found all what i had written.. was brought to the station under arrest.. got expelled from school.. and they saw i was way to F***ed up so i got off legally.. well the youth protection took a hold of me.. was sent to lock down for a month.. then a place in dorval.. i just acted out bably and was uncontrolable.. cutting too.. i was always shipped in and outta lock down.. held down by gaurds often.. put in isolation.. i was abused in lock down.. again.. by a guard.. i didn t care.. i was used to it right??..
After 2 yrs i was transferred to a psych youth centre.. it was nice.. but i was also always sent to lock up until they realized it made me worse so they now decided to send me to the real psyche ward.. i found out what that was.. just like daddy.. i was raped by an orderly in the royal victoria.. instead of believing me they said i was making **** up and i was put in isolation for a month and tied for 24 hours.. which is illegal but who cares right.. when i turned 18 youth protection threw me out on the street..
So i got an appartment.. didn t last long.. i was used to being told what to do.. ended back home again.. was given my dad old office for a room..
Me and my sis ran away all the time together.. before when we were in youth centres together.. at 18 drugs came into my life.. i lived in 'une piquerie' in montreal.. i was a huge coke addict and was into prostitution to pay the bills.. i didn t care.. my body ment nothing to me.. at 20 i landed at my grandpapa s .. he tried to help me out one last time.. but you could see he was getting fed up of me and my problems.. i went to therapie.. he bought me all i needed.. cloths and all.. i stayed 3 months of the six and skipped town.. he never spoke to me again after that.. grandpapa i mean.. I ve changed a lot for the better in the past 4 years, but he still won t talk to me and now he s dying of cancer and after many letters and all he still doesn t want me in his life.. but i mean i ve changed and m not like i was, guess the past always will be there to haunt me, last x mas i gave him a gift i hand made.. he said he wanted nothing of it and gave it to my grandmother.. it hurt.. this x mas i wasn t even invited to the family x mas get together.. and my whole family is saying it would be his last x mas.. i cried and tried to kill myself.. now the whole family refuses to talk to me .. i m nothing but a ****** up, lying, manipulating, never pays her rent, dirty, black sheep.. basically.. i m daddys lil girl.. just like her daddy they say.. they gave up on me..
For the past 4 yrs i ve been doing better.. this yearr i m doing this therapie for drugs and i m in another therapie for borderline personnality disorders.. which is what they said i was... but my family already gave up and they refuse to see i m actually doing better.. so i have no family now..
My mom is ill now.. she s taking meds for depression and she has diabetes because she won t watch out for her health, she s told me before she wants to die, cuz of all the **** my dad pulled.. and my dad is ill again.. his meds aren t working any more.. mommy gets a taste of it everyday.. he beats her mentally and phsysically. i live away from home with my fiancee.. who is helping a lot get threw all this ****.. he kinda acted as the angel who scooped me up from the streets and showed me how beautiful lfe was. I still cut tho.. but i slacked quite a bit ..me and my sister are the messed up children but my bro is doing fine and they gift him for it all the time, the whole family i mean that still won t talk to me. i mean if they took the time to know me they d see i d changed but meh, life ***** right? ..
My sis and i are very close.. only family member who talks to me other then bro who rarely says hi and mom well she s ill so.. yeah.. losing both my parent to a mental illness is hard, to me its like they are dead but i refuse to bury them which is hard to live with, i mean i still remember how they used to be, happy when all was well, i refuse to accept the fact they are gone, and they never actually will or did come back from it ,
Oh yeah.. when i was in youth centre i was like a pill tester gunie pig.. once i was so doped up i passed out in school.. idiots.. got choked by a cop too once in montreal.. abuse loves my name.. i ran away so many times.. tried to kill myself too.. and yeah.. a lot of **** went down.. youth centres are bad.. not recommended.. for me its like a school for the streets and crime
I take a lot of pills, most are for bipolar, but i m both borderline and bipolar. I m half way threw my therapie and it has made a huge difference in my life. I can say i m doing better. I still have my moments but yea...
I lived a huge issue for my medication recently that brought me to a suicide attempt again last month. But that will be for another post.
i m a fighter....
i am strong....
for i m still here....