Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language, violence, and mature content.
So, if you could tell me what you think, I would enjoy some feedback. If people like this, I'll go into more detail and maybe write a book. (P.S. Sorry if some of the scenes are kinda graphic, I just wanted to get everything out)
I was born to teen parents. My mom was barely fifteen and my dad was eighteen or nineteen. They were kinda off and on when it came to their relationship, but when mom turned eighteen, they got married. My dad was a soldier in the army, doing three tours in Iraq, so he wasn't home much. But when he was, our house became hell. He drank a good amount at parties, to the point where he couldn't walk up the stairs or get undressed without mom's help. But he didn't exactly repay her with kindness. He would get pissed, hit the wall, scream at mom, hit her... I would sit in my room and turn the TV up as loud as it would go, but I never could block it out completely.
Finally, after being married only a little over a year, my mom had enough. She told him that she was leaving, and he did even worse to her than he had done before. He... violated her. Around that time was when mom got into trouble with the law and got five years of probation. Because of her legal issues, and my dad never being around and being dangerous, I went to live with my grandparents at the age of four.
As a short and chunky little blonde haired girl, I was extremely sensitive, and took things to heart way too easily (now days, I don't really care). For the next six years I would live with my grandparents, and during that time, I would get bullied at school for being fat, then I'd come home to hear my grandma tell me the same thing. Also while living there, I would have nightmares about everything that went on while mom and dad were married. They stopped after a year or two, but last year they started up again. Let's just say it was hard and still kinda is.
At the age of five, my dad started visiting me at my grandparents house when he wasn't busy overseas. I would normally see him about once or twice a year, and I know that doesn't sound like much, but it's a lot compared to now. That's also when the sexual abuse started, or at least, that's the first time I remember it happening. I would sleep in my underwear cause I didn't like pajamas, and when dad was there, I'd sleep in the guest bed with him. One night I was laying there, trying to go to sleep, when he kisses my cheek. Alright, nothing wrong with that. But then... he moved his hand... and slipped it between my legs. I remember being so confused and scared and humiliated, but I couldn't move, and I didn't tell anyone. This treatment would only continue.
In third grade, I became homeschooled. It was definitely different from my private Christian school that I had been going to since the start, but I still enjoyed it, and I learned at my own pace.
At the age of nine, almost ten, I moved back in with my mom. I had seen her more often than I did my dad, so we were a little closer, but not by much. She had gotten married to my step dad, and they had one kid at the time, my little sister. She was living on a ranch with them, and it took some getting used to, but to this day, I love this life more than anything.
Later that year, my dad got me a computer. It was a small, red "DELL" laptop. Of course, at that age, I was getting curious about some things. So, long story short, I looked up some not-so-good things on Google and got caught three months later. Word got out to some kids that came out to the ranch every once and a while, and that's when my bull shit reputation started forming.
Well, at eleven I started getting a little down cuz, like the kids at my school and my grandma back home, the kids out there made sure I knew that I was fat. So, I started sneaking a few sips of alcohol when I was down. It was my coping method, and it wasn't a good one, though I never became an alcoholic (thank the Lord). But, this would lead to me trying to become anorexic and then bulimic, both plans that were stopped by my best friend Jody.
Also at the age of eleven, my reputation escalated. I got caught sexting a fourteen year old boy on FaceBook, and I was caught three days before some 'plans' were gonna go down. I became known as the slut, not only because of my incidents online, but also because of my inappropriate personality, and most of my friends being guys because I don't get along very well with girls. Even my parents were telling me that I was gonna get knocked up before I was out of my teenage years.
August 2015 was the last time I saw my dad. I had gotten to the point where I would try to make him abuse me cause it's the only attention he would give me that I knew he meant it. It's something that I've remained ashamed of to this day, and I probably always will. Last time I saw him, he grabbed my ass and was like, "Damn! Look at this thing, it's huge!"
In September 2015 I started going to church, and since then, I have found that God has helped me a lot through things. Even though I was raised in a religious family my whole life, this is the first time I have truly embraced it.
In November 2015 I came out about my dad for the first time ever. I came out to my youth pastor, and I don't know where I'd be right now if it wasn't for him.
In January 2016 I told my mom about what my dad was doing to me. She didn't completely believe me until she found out that he had done the same thing to my step sister, and that he had physically abused my little brother.
This was also about the time when my nightmares started back up. But this time, I was faced with a new challenge; flashbacks. They differ in strength, but sometimes I can feel him... doing stuff to me. It hurts a lot in every way, and some of them last an hour or two.
In February 2016... I cut myself. I would do it twice more in July, and I did it once more last month. I'm trying hard not to do it again though.
This past year I also discovered something else; I'm bisexual. How did I figure this out? I caught myself looking at way too many pairs of boobs, and thinking of doing some stuff with girls. On Halloween last year though, I started dating a boy that I love very much. He may be nine inches taller than me, and eighty pounds heavier, but he is my psychotic bad boy, and he treats me amazingly.
Currently, I'm working on getting a devotional finished for teenagers, and I am also trying to get closer to starting up a shelter for homeless youth (my life dream). I'm also getting into the art business. I've lost a lot of weight, and not meaning to brag or be selfish, but I look pretty good I think. I've changed a lot because of all the things I've been through, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Why? Because all of my struggles have made me who I am, and they've made me stronger. I know God has a plan for my life, and I'm prepared for anything that plan might bring.