Tanya, 17, USA

by Tanya
(USA)

I apologize, my story is kind of long, so thank you for taking the time to read it.

I was never wanted, not even as a child. My so called mother brought me into this world, that is all she did for me. Sometimes I consider that a curse. My mother has many mental problems, these problems caused her to do horrid things to me. Unfortunately my father (who is a good man,he never harmed me in his life, but is still unaware to this day of these things) was usually out drinking with his buddies.

In May, when I was three years old, I got into a bad accident, I don't feel comfortable to elaborate on this but after that I had some scars, this was enough to set her off, she told me how putrid and imperfect I was, she would tell me over and over again while she sat there and shot up or popped pills "look what you do to me, you make me do this, if you loved me you wouldn't make me do this, if you loved me you would die."

For years I dealt with that, after awhile I was numb to her accusations and mind games. I suppose she decided she needed a new tactic to get me to commit suicide, when I was almost eight years old she started sending me to a certain relative's house.

She knew he had just been released from jail for sexually abusing children. His wife knew it too but she didn't care. Mother would drop me off at this man's house and when I got inside he would throw me into a room. He would torture me first whispering in my ear things like "you would be nothing without me, I am what makes you worth having a life, you were born to please me, you're a dirty little whore,(etc.)"

He enjoyed cutting things, he would strip me down to nothing and take out his pocket knife and slowly cut me in my private areas. He also enjoyed throwing my tiny body against the walls, once right into a glass stand, then shoving the pieces into my skin. But by far the worst thing was when he forced himself onto me, the pain, there was so much blood.

Later on I would discover that I will never be able to have children, and I have had all my reproductive organs removed due to extensive damages. Mother would send me off to him until I was twelve years and a half. That is when I asked my dad if I could stay at my grandmother's. I didn't tell him why,but he let me go. I still live there to this day.

For awhile I didn't remember it, and anything I did remember I would block it out as much as possible. When I was fourteen my mother was sent to the psychiatric hospital after several attempts at suicide. For some reason after that my memories came flooding in again. I started hanging with the druggies at my school, my boyfriend was one of them.

I started doing all kinds of drugs, including cocaine, oxycotin, perkaset, Vicodin, and several other types of painkillers. I would mix something up and chase it down with some alcohol. I also cut myself. My grades began to plummet, and I became insomniac. I went like this until someone must have seen my cuts and told an adult at school.

I was taken to the nurse's office. The nurse asked me to show her my arms, I was fine with that. Then she wanted me to show her my stomach and back. Without thinking I had an instant reaction and I screamed no! She looked at me confused and I said I don't want to take my shirt off. She assured me I didn't have to, just lift my shirt a little. I still refused to do so.

I was sent to the guidance office where they asked me all kinds of questions including if I was ever physically, sexually, or emotionally abused. I lied and said no. I was sent to the third floor in the hospital for a few days. There was a mentally challenged man there, he did drugs for so long that his mind was practically gone, I did not have a roommate, and at night we were poorly watched.

He came into my room there and he also raped me. Still I did not tell them anything about that or my past. Thankfully I was released the next morning. And now I have a horrid fear of doctors, hospitals, or anything like that. I was forced to have a therapist, which I was so ashamed of what had happened to me that I wasn't able to cooperate, I had periodic drug tests, and had to take anti-depression pills which I wouldn't take.

I didn't use drugs but kept drinking as much as possible. My boyfriend, who is the one I mentioned earlier had quit drugs and alcohol, he eventually won and I quit drinking as well. Then in the summer a few days I was left alone, I happened to run into that certain relative. He did not touch me because we were in public, but what he said was good enough.

I went back to drinking again and by then the therapist and stuff had stopped watching me because I faked as best as I could that I was okay again. What really helped was all my drug tests came back negative. Into the tenth grade I was a little more stable, I still drank but my grades were good and I had several friends again.

I met one of my very best friends then, he is still my best friend, talking to him helped me a lot and also talking to my boyfriend. I survived tenth grade quite easily, but in eleventh grade my boyfriend dealt drugs in school and was put into a very strict school system, but I still saw him, I mostly stuck around my best friend that year.

But unfortunately more memories started resurfacing and I had a relapse with drugs and alcohol again, but not as bad. I occasionally still drink and do a little bit of drugs. I am a little better now about talking about it, but only my boyfriend and my best friend really know anything.

Thank you for listening to me, and for everyone else that reads this thank you for taking the time too.