My name is Jason. The story I want to tell is my own and it is as truthful as I can make it. I still don't completely understand it and I just need to get it out, all of it, for the first time.
I was born May 22, 2001. My mother was a drug addict and was 16. I can't blame her for what happened, for leaving me. She left me when I was 1 and I never saw her again. I never met my father and I don't think I will. I went to foster home to foster home. When I turned 5 a family wanted to adopt me, they knew my mother and actually used to take care of me in day care. I was living with them and I was about to be adopted but My adopted father was going blind and there was so many surgeries and the bills started pilling up and he knew that it was a waste of time and money, so he committed suicide. I was sent back to a foster home and I received a therapist. They said I had RAD which means I can't attach to people. So I have a very hard time trusting people.
I got adopted by the family a year later, but it was different M adopted mother didn't talk to me or even pay attention. I was raised by my adopted sister, bless her, she taught me a lot and I love my sister she sacrificed so much for me. My adopted mother got married again when I was 8. He seemed nice. He had 2 kids of his own and we were about the same age so we got along. We were put into online school and we never left the house. Then Jeremy, my step father, got weird. He had us isolated and no one ever talked to each other, everything was a competition so we would 'throw everyone under the bus' at any chance, me especially. See, I had a problem of controlling my bladder so I would wet the bed and Jeremy did NOT like this he locked me in the bathroom naked without blankets or pillows every night, every night. I stopped praying, stopped believing in anything. I would cry and pray every night, pleading to god to save me, for my mother to find me, but no one answered.
When I was allowed out of the bathroom I was only allowed to wear diapers, no clothes, and I would go to the everywhere like that. He would make me clean nonstop until everything was spotless. During the winter I would walk the dogs in the snow without shoes and I was so obedient I never talked back, I never said no. Every time he thought I was lying he would make me run for hours or hit me over and over until I told him what he wanted to hear. I never told anyone, I never said a word and no one payed attention to me. I was forgotten. I was a ghost. No one cared whether I died or lived.
The hardest thing I went through was watching my sister. She is 5 years older than me and I couldn't help her. I was a mindless slave. I saw my sister cutting and I didn't do anything. I saw her get hit and trying so hard to get to our mother, begging, pleading to me to go get our mother. I didn't do anything I just stood there and watched as I saw my sister get hit over and over.
When my adopted mother finally noticed what was happening to my sister she tried to stop him but she just got hurt and sent to the hospital. When I turned 11 he left. My sister was angry at our mother and she ran away multiple times and no one knew what happened with me and Jeremy. No one payed attention to me, I actually got used to being left alone finding ways to survive. We moved and it was just me and my mother. We started going back to therapy and that only made it worse. My mother never believed me about what happened. She blamed me for her sadness. She was very sad. She was and is dying: she has cancer and her body is deteriorating. She bounced job to job and and I tried to help but she didn't want it. Every time I made a mistake I would have to wear it outside, literally. I would wear signs saying what I did as I worked. I worked outside all day, I did every thing, all the cleaning and if it is was not done correctly I would get little or no food, which happened quite often.
I started getting in trouble withe law for stupid things and than my mother would press charges on me for anything and no one believed me when I said I didn't do anything. So I got probation and than intense probation. I became the bad kid and my mother would tell everyone I was terrible and threatening her and diabolical. Every one believed her. No one cared about me and everyone was careful around me, even though I am completely peaceful I have never hit anyone or even implied that I would.
We never celebrated holidays and they were actually used against me. My mother would say we would celebrate if I was good and then the day of or the day before she would find something wrong, no matter how small, and would blame me for not celebrating the holiday.
My friend died in October of 2016 and things at home were terrible. I just couldn't handle it I was planning on committing suicide. A friend of mine realized and told the principal. I was sent to my first psychiatric hospital: Banner Behavioral Hospital. I went to many others like Quail Run or New Foundations and Provo Canyon. Right now I'm in New Horizons and I have not left treatment since October of 2016. Now it is May of 2017 and I have now told my story and I just hope it gets better and I hope I see the people I left behind. I'm sorry guys and I hope I see you guys again. I hope I don't get forgotten. Please don't forget me, That's all I ever wanted: to be noticed, to be cared about, to be remembered by someone
