I’ve been called fat, an exorcist child, a bitch, crazy, lazy, a useless cunt, I’ve been choked to unconscious and molested by my father and beaten with wooden spoons, spatulas and belts mostly by my mother; but I think the worst was when I had been voluntarily sent to hospital for suicidal thoughts four years ago. I was crying out for help because I had just exposed my father for being a pedophile and instead of giving me a place to go after being in hospital a few hours to cry it out, my mother told me she didn’t think I was motivated to get a job and refused to give me a place to go for the weekend. I was not about to go back to my father where I had been living. Being homeless at that point was better than going back. I’ve since gone no contact with my abusive family, I barely survived them. I’ve decided to write my story to try to heal my trauma and help turn my pain into purpose. I still struggle with my mental health every day but I’m alive and I have hope. I took this picture the day I left my toxic Family of origin. It’s a reminder of how far I’ve come. Don’t give up on yourself, even when your family buries you alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment