My Life. My Story

my story

I lay there on my bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how my life got completely out of control. As a child, I've been through more than any child should ever have to go through. Since the beginning, I have been abused: physically, emotionally, or mentally, by anyone and everyone who was supposed to care for me: my parents, trusted adults, and friends. Yes, I've been abused, but I have, somehow, always found a way to make myself stronger. But every occasionally, I have a hard time. A hard time just getting by, just surviving. Sometimes, I think about the several ways I could just end it all. Overdosing on medication, slicing my wrists open, hanging myself, jumping in front of a speeding vehicle, jumping off a bridge...the possibilities are endless. I just can never bring myself to do it. I have no one to talk to. No one I trust anyway.

......

By the way, I'm Amber. And this is my story.

When I was still a fetus, way before I was even born, I was already enduring more than any fetus should have. My mother loved me, or so she says, but my biological father (aka my sperm donor) didn't even want me. He tried to kill me in utero. Swung a baseball bat to my mother's pregnant belly. He tried to kill my older brother because he was a normal, crying infant. My mother left my sperm donor. She left him, rightfully claiming that he was too abusive. I might have turned out ok, if she hadn't left him for his equally abusive best friend. But no, she got married to his best friend and had my little brother. That made three small children, all within a year and a half apart, exposed to years of abuse. My mother tried so hard to have my sperm donor in my life in some capacity or another. She fought with him about not being around for birthdays, holidays, milestones, important dates in my life. Parts of my life that would have mattered to a normal parent, but obviously didn't matter to him. He was more worried about drinking, getting high, and partying with his friends. When I was three years old, he called me, and told me he never wanted me born. I didn't understand what that meant at that time, but I soon figured it out. I was a precocious child. Not to brag, but I was smarter than the average child. At that time, his words stung. It wasn't until I grew older that I finally understood what was said to me and the emotional repercussions I had to endure due to that single moment.

That was my first memory. My first memory was of me being told I wasn't wanted. That in itself could really fuck someone up. But my story continues.

After she married my sperm donor's best friend, the abuse continued. My mother did what she could to be the best mother she could. But she was the only one supporting us, because, like my sperm donor, he was too busy worrying about getting drunk, high and partying. While she was working a full-time job, and trying to get her degree so she could create a better life for my brothers and myself, my stepfather neglected us. There were many nights where my mother came home, close to 10pm, where we weren't fed. I distinctly remember my mother coming home from work one night and telling her I was hungry. She was so upset that we hadn't eaten yet. There are other memories I have during that time too. Most of that time I don't remember, because I must have blacked it out. But there was one event, that I do remember, that must have been extremely traumatic for me. I remember my mother and stepfather, arguing, like they usually do. But this time, this time was different. I remember my stepfather grabbing my mother and throwing her across a table. I was told I was going to be next. Was I? I don't remember.

By this time, I'm maybe 5 or 6 years old. My mother is now a full-fledged drug counselor. This is where she meets abusive relationship number three, which eventually turns into husband number two. Here, this one relationship, caused me more pain and misery than any of the two combined, as this is the longest relationship she has been in. And still is in, to this day. So, here, I will go more into depth about my life. Since I have more memories of this time-period than anything before.