July Magazine 2012

Both my parents were to busy drinking and doing drugs to care about what was going on. My mother knew about everything and still didn’t care. She still made me go over with my next door neighbour and stay home with my brother.

My mom walked in on my brother as he was raping me, she looked at me and said that I was getting what I deserve and she started laughing. My parents always told me that I was to blame for everything that happened and for the longest time I actually believed them. I was always the target for things. If either one of my parents were mad, my siblings and I were beat.

We were homeless for a while because my parents refused to pay the rent because they wanted the money for drugs and alcohol. The assault affected me in many ways. It started by me not trusting people and building a wall so that people couldn’t get through. I felt alone and I didn’t know what to do or how to feel.

By the age of 11 I had already tried to kill myself. I started cutting and burning and eventually I started with my eating disorder. I had been hospitalized numerous times and no one knew how to help me because I wouldn’t talk to any one.

I couldn’t sleep at night because I was having nightmares. I would find myself waking up in the middle of the night crying. I remember wishing everyday that it would be my last. I couldn’t be near certain people or smells because I would find myself having flashbacks and crying.

I developed major anxiety and I just wanted to be shut out from the world. I was falling behind in school because I couldn’t concentrate and I was getting in trouble all the time.

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