The daily life of a fat depressed girl

The Basic Summary.

Well I'm 15, born on June 15th of 2001. Life was good. My brother, 12 born on February 18th, his name's Timothy, Timmy for short, my sister Jordan, 11 born on July 13th, my brother Garry, 29 born on October 8th, my sister Cassie, born on July 15th, my sister Ashley born on December 30th, my sister Jessica born on April 16th, and my sister Shannon born on October 29th.

Notice how I say life was good. Was referring to when I was too young to realize that my family was quite literally falling apart one by one.

My mom and dad had gotten married on February 10th, 2001. When I was younger, every time I'd look at them, I'd see them in love. Or what I thought was love. Childish to think that even though their bedroom was across from mine up until I turned 10, I never seemed to hear their late night arguments. About money, food, discipline. That's all I thought it was. Then, when I got older I realized that the fights I thought happened, were just cover ups so I didn't see how bad it actually was. One accused the other of cheating, one accused the other of wretched acts.

Then, August 12th 2012, it all stopped. I was away on my 2nd day of a week long camp when my mom and dad had the worst fight that'd I've known. My mom left. She walked right out and left behind her 3 children still at home. Me 11 at the time, Timmy 8, and Jordan 7, them not able to grasp what's happening.

I only found out when my dad picked me up from camp and I realized that this year, they didn't pick me up together, like every other year before.

My mom left my house on August 12th 2012, and stayed at a friends house until October 5th, 2012 when she moved down to Virginia with my now stepfather. My mom and dad legally got divorced on December 24th, 2013. Hell of a Christmas present for us kids right?

Well, since then I forgave my mom, but I will never forget.

I used to live with my dad up until this past June when I moved down with my mom for a year.

What I just wrote, that's just about my parents. We haven't even reached the worst part.

I've been bullied since 2nd grade. I've been called horrendous names due to my size, my looks, and my home life.

So, in 7th grade, May 5th, 2013 I was admitted into a hospital for suicidal thoughts and actions. I actually planned my death. I had written a suicide note which was only missing the date. I was in that hospital for 9 days. Just to come back to school and have people joke asking if I tried and if I didn't succeed because the rope broke because of my size. I had people bully me more knowing that bullying is what caused me to be in there.

Fast forward roughly a year, sometime in may, people were bullying me really bad again. Nobody knows this, but I went home days on end immediately going to my room and grabbing my scissors and cutting myself on my stomach so no one would notice.

Then in 8th grade, still got bullied, still fat, still depressed.

9th grade: nothing changed just got better at hiding it.

10th grade: I moved to Virginia. 12 hours away from my old house and people from my old school still bully me. My new school is so much better but people still message me trying to hurt me.

Only this time, I won't let them.