My Life Story

I’m 15, 16 next month, I’ve just left school and, as my mum recently said; 'moving onwards and upwards' ha, as if. I have been cutting myself for almost 6 months, its only a small time compared to most but oh well, its the truth. And this is what this is about; facing up to the truth.

I do have reasons for hurting myself, but really, since reading the rest of the articles on this site, it feels so pointless me complaining. I wasn’t sexually abused or physically, I don’t have suicidal thoughts and I don’t hate anyone. It was just my dad. He had an affair with Tracey when I was 11. He left on my 11th birthday actually. He left me, mum, and my two brothers, then aged 7 and 13, alone with nothing. Literally with nothing, except £40 000 worth of debt. Our house that we had, we lost, we had to move to a council house where the kids bullied me and my little brother, my older one eventually moved in with my dad. We lost our car and possessions, and mums weight. I mean she wasn’t fat, she was actually a pretty perfect weight. But she lost so much, she didn’t eat, I never noticed it then, I remember asking her 'mum why don’t u eat dinner with us tonight?' and she'd reply 'nah I’ve ate tons!'. And then she developed split nerves in her back. I had to completely run the house, I remember her crying so bad, it physically hurt me, she was crying on the floor 'why me? why did he have to leave me?' I had no answer.

Meanwhile, my father neglected us so bad. We went to see him every Wednesday with 'her', 'Tracey the muppet' we called her. She was trying to play happy families all the time, trying to be my mother, when my real one was in so much pain. I hated her so much. And so when my father formally abandoned me by telling me he didn’t want me any more I agreed. Kept everything hidden in, as usual. I was supposed to be staying at his and the muppets but he dropped me home so I could see my mum for a day and just left me. He never came back. I’m still wondering why. I didn’t do anything. All I wanted was to be daddy’s little girl again. That’s all.

So combined with the anger from my dad’s rejection, bullying from people and my general self-hate I started hurting myself. I’m not going to lie, I enjoy it. It gives me power. The one thing I’ve never had. I like the thrill and the fact that I know something everyone else doesn’t. But I also hate it. The angry red marks beneath my skin that everyone asks me about, to which I reply 'the cat scratched me' or 'oh I got that skiing' or 'what that? Oh I don’t know, I’ve never noticed that before'

All my friends know. Of course they do, I depend on them. They never mention it ofcourse, they are too afraid of confrontation or saying the wrong thing. I don’t blame them, I’m not very approachable, especially since he state I was in when I told them. And especially how angry I got when my best friend, that’s right, the one who is supposed to support me whenever wherever, called me attention seeking.

I’m also seeing the local nurse. She’s not trained to deal with my type of situation, but it helps to talk. She’s also talking of publishing a few of my poems in a local paper, obviously anonymously, I could not stand it if any one from my family knew, they have been through enough.

So I’ve basically wrote my whole life story here, well almost, so if you've read this far, well done.

Anon