Just a note: Some of you might find this account a bit triggery, especially if you're struggling with self harm and the after effects of abuse & rape. As always, only read this if you feel strong enough to - and talk to someone if you're affected by it. Take care xxx Rachel

This Insane World Of Mine

My name is Autum. I'm 15 years old. I live in Southern California (I swear that is relevant). I guess we can start this all out from where all the trouble began, in my mind. I have never been told the entire story, nor has any of it been told to me in order. So if my order is a little off please excuse me.

When I was little, my parents were engaged but never married. They were drug abusers and drunks. When I was about two years old my mother didn't want to be with my father anymore. They went to court and my mother got custody and gave my grandparents, my current guardians, visitation rights. Every Saturday and Sunday my grandparents could bring me over to their house, where my father, along with myself, was living at the time. Apparently as I was told, when it came time to change my diaper I would scream and cry and was pretty much petrified. My grandparents told me that every single time that I came over and had to have my diaper changed I would have big red hand prints on my bottom. My mom's parents were also drug addicts and her father and step father both abusive, alone with her mother.

One day, my mother and her parents left, without telling anyone where she was going. I guess that it was illegal for some reason, to take me across state lines. She moved to Washington state, and some how my aunt and my dad's father figured out where I was and pretty much "stole" me back, and took me across state lines so that the cops couldn't do anything.

At this point my father had fallen deeper into his habits. I walked in on him while he was hot boxing his room, while he had girls over, etc. I remember one time I walked in on him and his friends, girls also, smoking pot in his room and he yelled at me. I was very little at the time and it scared me so I cried. Another time we were in his car coming back from an arcade and a car full of guys started chasing him. So he raced to my house. Hopped out of the car and told me "not to get out of the car no matter what" while he had 6 or 7 guys chasing him in circles around the car in my grandparents front yard about to be beat up. Another time he got into a fight with some people from a neighborhood down the block from ours and I came outside and they tried to run him over. All of this happening while I was only about 6 or 7 years old. This entire time I had not heard from my mother.

Eventually my father got sent to a correctional facility for unpaid parking tickets and was there for what seemed like years. As soon as he got out though he sobered up. He started to sober up when I was 10 years old. He started to go to AA but I don't think he ever went to NA. I think he took what he got in AA and interpreted it into quitting his drug use.

One day, randomly, when I got home from school when I was about 10 my father took me up to his room and gave me a stack of cards that my mother had sent from throughout the years. Then, one day, when my grandfather came to pick me up after school at daycare early and had a brush (he only made me brush my hair when we were going to see one of my great uncles) I knew what was going on. I had wished every year any chance that I got that I would be able to meet my mother. So after brushing my hair and getting in the car my granddad asked me "What have you wished for every year on your birthday?" "To see my mom..." I told him.. I remember at the time I was kind of skeptical. Then all of the sudden it hit me, after 8 or 9 years I finally got to MEET my mom! I was so excited. We went to a court house and I met her for the first time in years. But something still felt out of place. I figured at the time that it was just cause I hadn't seen her in so long. I didn't want to cry, didn't feel the need to cry, nothing.

So the court set up dates that she could see me but because of her past history with disappearing with me one of my grandparents had to be there. We would go to the park, we would go to the movies. We could even just sit and talk. Eventually I found out that I had a half brother and a half sister. My mother had also married. They had a small house right next to her mother and her step father's house. Eventually I went up to stay with them for a week. I got to know my younger brother and sister and my grandparents and two aunts also.

Not too long after, my father ended up marrying. He asked me if it was okay if he married her and even though I didn't like her (still don't), I wanted my father to be happy more than anything else in world. They married and had three kids. Twins, a boy and a girl, and another boy. I tried living part time with my father for a while but I moved at least 7 times with them in two years. So we decided that wasn't going to work, so I just continued to live with my grandparents always. I did visit my father though, as the visits with my mother started to dissipate. The only problem was that when I was over at my father's house, and the twins were just born not even a year before, I was left watching them, constantly. So I would sing to them, once my little sister even tried to sing with me.

I am a perfectionist. I had to have at least a 3.0 GPA, no matter what. So along with moving frequently I had school, and family problems. At the time I was living in a bad neighborhood and the girls were taking their boyfriend's names at the time and carving them into their wrists. I had already had an off and on eating disorder for about 9 months now also. I was overweight in the fifth grade and it was constantly pointed out to me by my peers. I became more and more self conscious and by the 6th grade I had an eating disorder. So I carved "I <3 J.T." into the top of my inner wrist very small with a safety pin. I realized how much it relieved me so I continued to do it, deeper each time whenever I was stressed. That's when it all started. My father saw my wrist and told me not to do it, but of course I couldn't stop. I didn't want to.

I was 13 and my boyfriend was 16. We had been together for three months and had sex. Eventually my father found out and almost slapped me across the face, immediately thought that I was pregnant, took me for an STD test the next week and went and threatened my boyfriend. We were each others' first, so it was hard for the both of us. After my father found out he started to act different. He would walk into the bathroom while I was taking a shower. He would also slap my butt and when I would tell him to stop he would say "It's mine. I made it I can do what I want with it." and if I hit him he would hit me back just as hard if not harder. He even started walking in on my friends and I while we were changing, even if we told him that we were.

I started to call hotlines since I felt like I had no one to talk to and no where to go. My eating disorder got worse and I was falling deeper and deeper into the trap of my depression. My mother and I lost almost complete touch and my father kept going on with his little game. Finally one day I was completely distraught and talking to someone on a hotline and I accidentally let my school name slip. In the next week, a child services lady showed up to my school, and called me into the principle's office. We talked. She talked to my grandparents and told them what was going on. Not long before I had told my grandmother about what he was doing and how it made me uncomfortable and she brushed it off saying that he just thought that I was still 9 years old or something. So they talked to my father, and he stopped his harassing. But not before one last chance to try and get himself out of the wrong. I was told that he said that I was lying, and my step me stood up for me, saying that she had seen him do it millions of times and heard me millions of times to tell him to stop.

Things were going smoothly to everyone but me. My boyfriend knew what was going on, and by now we had been together for at least a year. I went to my aunts house in South Carolina with my grandparents and started purging at least 3 times a day and only eating a small meal once. I hid it for the longest time, but I had enough, I wanted to be "normal". So I stopped hiding it. My aunt noticed and told me that if I'm not better in a week they were going to send me to the hospital. So with her help I got my act together and "stopped". It lasted for a couple of months, and then I was back into it. My cutting got worse and worse and I just couldn't stop. I had finally graduated to a razor, but I had to use the ones that you shave your legs with since I didn't have any plain blades.

The summer after that my boyfriend and I started to go into our own little worlds. He raped me, a couple times, during the summer. I broke up with him for two weeks and he changed a couple things, who he hung around with, how he acted, etc. And I decided to give it another try.

I was having a lot of trouble with school and told my grandma that something was wrong with me. I finally convinced her to take me to a psychologist. At first they diagnosed me as having depression. He put me on Lexapro and I literally went insane. I had AT LEAST 70 cuts in one arm, all from one day. So we redid my diagnosis and I was correctly shown as having Bipolar disorder. I tried a million different medicines and a million different therapists. I am now finally on Tegretol for my Bipolar and Xanax for my anxiety.

It took me years to stop cutting and to get rid of my eating disorder. I haven't even completely gotten over either. I don't know if I ever will. But I do know that everyday I get a little bit stronger so I can fight my unhealthy urges. And even with a slip up here and there I have realized that it isn't the end of the world and that I just need to pull myself up by my collar and start over again. And one of the best lessons that life has taught me, in this messy world of mine is, never say "Why me?" because as soon as you do, the question won't EVER leave you alone and you can become obsessed with what is wrong with yourself and not what is right.

Autum