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Existential dread.

I needed someone.

By Cortney LynnPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
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Growing up I had a big house, I never had to worry about when my next meal was or anything. I had everything I needed. Seems like a walk in the park, huh? Not the case. I lived with my mom, stepdad, and my two sisters who are twins. My dad was completely out of the picture by the time I was 3 or 4. My mom told me he was touching me and took him to court and blah blah blah... Anyway, I went to school and always tried my best to make friends no matter how unsuccessful I was. People thought I was living the life at my big house in the safest neighborhood in town, again, not the case! What the kids at school didn't know was that I had to talk to numerous counselors and child protection workers because my mom and stepdad were hurting my sisters and I. There was constant arguing at my big house in the safe neighborhood. Flash forward a bit to the time I was about 8 years old, both of my sisters were taken out of my house because the court system found out about my parents abusing them. Yet, they left me, I'm 6 years younger, in the house with them. I was told what to say to the "mean city workers" and believed that I was being treated the way I deserved to be. I grew up thinking the worst about myself. I learned quickly to keep my mouth shut about my parents alcohol addiction, and stay out of their way. Eventually I couldn't handle that anymore and I had finally made a couple of friends. One of my friends had a brother that explored my body while I was passed out, high on marijuana. I didn't talk to anyone for almost a year. No one found out about it until my freshman year of high school and the court process took a year. Before I started high school my stepdad pulled a gun on one of my sisters and I, she was living with the man who touched me. He went to jail and came out "saved by the blood of Christ". It really took a mental toll on me, I still had to pretend everything was perfect. Throughout my 18 long years of living, I have continually asked myself why I am still here, the sense of hopelessness and worthlessness took over me and I've tried ending this long life four times. Antidepressant after antidepressant and still no one knows why I just don't want to be here.

On my eighteenth birthday, my parents sent me away to an institution and then told me I couldn't return to my home. I haven't. I found a friend and her wonderful family took me in and gave me a place to live and food and a listening ear. I quickly became uncomfortable because I was not used to being shown love like that. A few months later I met the love of my life, I don't know how I got so lucky. He is so sweet and kind most of the time. We argue because I simply was not shown how to give love to others. I'm trying my best to love him good, but most days, it's just not enough. My depression still takes over me. Anxiety holds me hostage most days, but life really does get better. It's been almost a year since I've been away from my parents home and I have seen them a few times and it's mostly just casual talk. They can't face what they've but done to me and they can't handle that I didn't crumble, but came out stronger than ever before. If you ever think that ending your life seems like a good idea, it's not. Find someone to show you love, even when it's uncomfortable. Everyone deserves a shoulder to cry on.

Stay strong.

To whoever it may concern...

Hope for all.

family
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