My Reality

Chapter 1: The start of it all (2011)

So to start off my father and I have never really gotten along. I think its because I remind him of my mom. But he thinks it's because we are exactly alike, which in some ways we are. I'm about an even mix of my mother Holly and my father Greg. I have zero filter like my mom and complete anger and rage all the time like my dad. But however from birth to the day I left (July 1st 2013 2 days after my birthday) he has always been there for me no matter the situation, so I have to give credit where it's due, sometimes I just wish that he was the nice, happy, easy going father all the time. Not the anger irate rude ignorant father he can be. So around Christmas 2012 my dad and I had started hitting very rough paths in our relationship. It got to the point where I didn't want to spend time with him, visit him when the court papers had ordered visitation. I just wanted to stay with my mom. Guess you kinda resent someone when they make you a human punching bag. But I can't lie sometimes I pushed him to hard. One day I shoved a little to hard and it compeletly blew up in both of our faces and resulted in me packing my bags and my mom coming to get me.

Now while I wanted to leave I didn't think about how much it would effect me, I thought it would be easy, provide me some kind of relief. And for a short period it did, and then I started to miss him. I would text or call and get no answer. It hurt knowing he didn't want to talk to me. But at the same time I couldn't blame him. After about 2 or 3 moths of being away from my dad, I became very depressed, my anxiety went through the roof, and my thoughts were becoming too much to handle. I needed a way to get everything out, so I started to self-harm (Cut, Burn, Pull out my Hair, Pick the Skin around my nails, and bite my nails till they bleed). This helped for a while, till one day in the clinic office in 7th grade she had seen them, she asked what they were from and I gave the typical BS "the cat" excuse. Then a few days later I got to the therapist office and he asks me about them, of course I start crying begging him not to call my mom and tell her, but as a teacher/staff person he had no choice. I thought she was going to be mad at me and hate me. Now why I thought that I have no clue. She of course was no where near mad but more or so super sad, that I felt that way. She had watched me closely the next few weeks to a few months to make sure I was okay. The she set me up with a therapist. And for a while everything was okay and talking helped but then it got to the point that, talking didn't even help. I started to cut again this time deeper more often and a lot more each time. No one had suspected a thing because it was winter. My mom had thought I was getting better when all along in a way I was only getting worse. I didn't tell anyone, and I was lying to my therapist about how my recovery and everything was going, which in the long run of things I pretty much fucked myself. I ended up starting to starve my self, and make my self puke anytime My mom or step-dad forced me to eat. It was a while before they had found out about my binging and purging. But once they did they started to watch me even more closely. At one point my depression had gotten so bad I didn't go to school for a whole week because I was just so emotionally drained, It took all my physical energy and I just couldn't get out of bed in the morning anymore. Teachers started to notice my grades dropping attendance getting worse and I was becoming a 'problem child' which I had never been before. This was all very odd for me. I had never in my entire life been to the office for a bad reason, always good. Never had a detention, back talked teachers, and refused to work together in class. But my 7th grade year was complete hell because of what happen over the summer. I was temporarily a completely different person from the year before. I was crazy how fast someone could switch. So 7th grade year passed with a few bumps but not too many. Then 8th grade year came. 8th Grade year was a little worse than 7th, I had kept getting detention, in school suspensions, I was intentionally creating conflict between me and other students. The only reason I was doing all I was, was because I thought it would get my dad's attention, But it never sis so I kept taking it to new levels and eventually got carried away with it. So 8th Grade year came to an end with a lot of bumps but still I had made it.