My Insanely Unbelievable Life

What I'm about to tell you, is 100% NSFW, but it needs to be heard. Silence can be our greatest enemy.

I was born in 1997, no father's name on my birth certificate, just my mother's. When I was three months old, she began dating Michael, who became my stepfather in 1999. I don't remember much from then, as I was very young, but our family seemed normal. It was my normal.

My older sister beating me senseless, holding knives to my throat, threatening to set me on fire, sitting on my chest while having me pinned until I nearly turned blue in the face, was just "sisters being sisters". My stepfather keeping us from our grandparents when we wouldn't clean our room, was just "discipline", which to some, it may seem justified, but his following us around in an argument when we tried to walk away to cool off, was not. I was a child, I only knew what I was told.

At first, I was a good kid. Straight As, top of the class, hardly ever got into trouble. Then, by the 3rd grade, I knew I was different somehow. I didn't feel as normal. I was social crippled. I had trouble making friends, didn't talk a whole lot to anyone, minus one or two select people, and even then, it felt awkward and forced. My 3rd grade year, my grades were dripping to Bs. It didn't seem like an issue, but it was at home. I got scolded, but that was the most I got from that issue. My younger sister Emily had been born, and my older sister was becoming a teenager, and my stepfather was going to the academy to become a Deputy for the local police department. It was a bit hectic at home.

4th grade, and I'm dropping to Cs. Michael becomes a deputy, the abuse gets worse and worse. My older sister is having outbursts of anger, directed at me, and antagonized by Michael. 5th grade comes and goes, then in 6th grade, my life becomes a very fast downward slope.

I'm judged at school by my older sister's behavior, who I'll just name Anna for the sake of her identity. Anna is dating a 50+ year old man at 15, having bigger outbursts, abusing me more and more, and getting into worse fights with Michael. I specifically remember a night where they were screaming at each other, unsure of why, and he pinned her against the refrigerator, practically spitting in her face, and leaving bruises on her wrists. Later, she cut herself, and I walked in and saw it, and as usual got beaten over the head for it.

My grades are F's and I nearly fail. I just couldn't focus. I ask my teacher for help, and he tells me to figure it out myself, and to just read the books. It embarrasses me, and I don't ask for help anymore. I go on into middle school, and lose my virginity at 13 to someone my age, and almost instantly become a sex addict. I begin drinking at parties, go out all the time, begin counselling, and my sister is removed from the home by DHR because Michael paints her as the problem. Where was my mother? Sitting by idly, watching it all happen, and taking Michael's side on everything.

A month before I turn 16, I get raped. Surprisingly, it was one of the few nights I was sober, by a trusted friend. Michael forces me to report it, and my friend Mason stays by my side the entire time, through text, of course, to maintain my privacy. I go through the process, and I'm transferred to a rape counselor. I won't go into detail, but I go to a Grand Jury trial later, Michael tells me before I go in that they'll pick me apart and force me to relive it all, and a woman gets up and shouts "that's baloney", while I'm sweating and shaking trying to begin the series of awful events, and I immediately drop the charges.

I go back to drinking and sex, and begin smoking pot. I barely remember any of it all, up until age 17. I begin dating a guy out of town, and move in with him almost immediately. Huge mistake.

He turns out to be a heavy alcoholic, but I stay. He gets a DUI, I still stay. I sold my car, and save up the money for our own place. He gets really mad and really drunk one night, drags me around by my hair, and in the end, I'm buzzed, walking a mile down the road to a nearby restaurant with glass in my feet just to get away.

My sister lived nearby, and her roommate was his older sister, a woman in her 30s named Jessica. Jessica comes to pick me up, and she takes me to my sister's. Three days into staying there, me and my sister end up in a fist fight in the middle of the street, and I'm the one getting all the fist. She hits me over the brow with her keys in hand, and I'm bleeding in front of the police, while I'm accused of assaulting her. Not my first dirty cop encounter; police had been called numerous times to our abusive residence, and nobody had done anything.

So I end up sitting in a parking lot, going over my options. I call Michael, and he refuses to help me come home. I'm 18, I'm an adult, he doesn't care if I'm homeless or dead. He wont let me talk to my mom.

Jessica comes by, picks me up, we go out to lunch, then she suggests we go to a motel and let things with Anna blow over. It sounds like a great idea. So I shower, lay on the bed, and mention a headache from all of the crying. She offers a pill. I ask what it is.

"It'll help you calm down."

I trusted her, and took the pill. The water tastes very off, and she tells me not to worry.

I get tired, lay down for a nap. After a while, she's waking me up, telling me she needs cigarettes. Alright. I open my mouth to answer, and my words are super slow and slurred when they come out, so I give up. I'm still so... exhausted.

I try to stand, and stumble everywhere, unable to keep my balance. Weird. She pays it no mind, and drags me by my arm to the car, and goes to a gas station. I don't even remember the drive, or the drive to the ER. I barely ask why I'm there when I'm being rushed in on a crash cart, an IV is put in my arm, and I'm out.

I wake up a full day later, in a hospital bed in ICU. I'm freaking out, not knowing where I am or why I'm there. All I remember is the pill and the funny water. I piece it together, but have no proof.

Jessica tells me I tried to commit suicide. I had just blacked out and had a nervous breakdown. It still doesn't make sense. I stay for three days, then go to a psychiatric facility for inpatient rehab. I'm still so freaked out and confused, I figure it's a good idea, even if I am right.

I make a wonderful friend during my stay, and on the fourth and final day, my rehab progress is crushed. I get a phone call, and assume it's my mom or Michael, wondering about me. But no, they never called. It was Jessica.

She told me to stay away from her brother, and then admitted to her crime. She drugged me. I rush to the psychiatrist before he leaves, and he reads my tox-screen from ICU and says there's a high amount of some sort of muscle relaxer, enough to kill, and another drug, in a much smaller amount.

The phone calls aren't recorded, so my confession is gone, and I accept that I don't have enough to put her in jail. I call Michael, and convince him to bring me home, and tell him about what happened. I meet them in the lobby, and all he says is, "don't start your sh*t when we get home."

No hello, nothing. From anyone, not even my mom.

So I resolve to stop partying and having sex all the time. I got myself together, and met my now-boyfriend. My mom gets a divorce when I'm 19, and then she beats me after Michael leaves. He has heard me being beaten while I was on the phone with him.

Once I get pregnant, the beating stops. Life becomes actually normal, not the normal I was taught to believe. My suicidal thoughts don't stop, but aren't as much, and I stop cutting myself. I have a very healthy baby boy, and am now a proud mother. I'm still healing, but it'll take time. Maybe someone will read my story and learn a thing or two, which is my biggest hope. It's unbelievable, but this is my life. If I can make it through this, you can make it through anything. No one is ever alone. Don't let someone feel alone. Don't let them believe that something like this us normal. And if you're the one being put through abuse, speak up. Speak up for you and anyone around the abuser. You could save a life.