Hope Is Real » Our Stories

Passion – Her Story ♥

Brooke — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 22:03:32 +0000

When i was young i had what you all would say as the typical “american” family, mom, dad, brother and dog. I went to church every sunday and was rasied in a christian home. But i never had a relationship with him. For the first 3 years of my life everything was just about perfect. Until my mom was dignosed with cancer in the spinal cord. My life was flipped upside down. For the next few years of my life my mom become weaker and weaker. During this time me, my brother, and my mom were taken away from my family from a man who claimed to be a follower of Jesus Christ. He was not. I was only around the age of 4 at this time and i did not relize all that was going on. I do now. Me and nathan were in a seperate room from my mother, and were taken care off, but even as a young kid i could sense that things were wrong. Luckly my grandparents and my dad found us and brought us back home. About a year after that my mom passed away. I can remeber that night almost perfectly. For the next 5 years of my life i lived on the weekdays at my grandparents house and the weekends at my dads. I was not longer the typical american family. At school when the other kids would be writting poems to there moms for mothers day, I would have to cross aout the mom and put grandma or aunt. I can remember ever sunday night when my dad would drop me and my brother off at my grandparents, cry for what seemed like hours wishing my dad would come back. Having to travel back and fourth from one house to the next took it toll on me. i use to have nightmares about my dad not coming back to get me, and being killed. i felt lost. The When i was 10 years old my world flipped around once again. My dad, out of no were decides to get remarried. All of a sudden i had a step-mom, step-brother, and a step-sister. i was taken away from my grandparents and in my eyes forced to live with people i did not know. i had no one wo turn to and felt like no one could help me. I was a lost and confused child. We started to attend a new chruch named cornerstone ( in highland). I HATED it. i believed that the teens there were all to cool to be my friends. They all had there own little clicks and that i fit in no were. My self estem went way down. I no longer saw myself as beutiful. i belived that if these people did not want to be my friends than there must me something wrong with me. My perspective changed when i began to listen to the lesson that were being tought each week. I noticed a passion at this chruch that was not at my other one. People were raising there hand and conecting with God. i wanted what they had. After that my mind set changed. i started to have a real relationship with God. i began to feel Gods love more than i ever did before. He opened doors for me that i never dreamed were possible. He took away bondages that i had. My life was changed. God took away my nightmares and made me see how beutiful i am. i still strugle EVERDAY with issues in my family, but i know that God will see me throw it.My life has had many up’s and down’s and still will continue to, but i know that my God will always be there for me. He can be there for you too, if u let him. He wants you to have a relationship with him.

Bandaids – Her Story ♥

Brooke — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 21:37:09 +0000

When I was a kid, I LOVED to play with bandaids. To me, they had magical healing powers when in reality, they just kept the yucky stuff out and prevented infections.
At the age of 12, cutting became my bandaid for the things in life. When the hate, anger, abuse, fear, and betrayal became too much for me to handle, I would cut. Rather than deal with the problems, cutting covered those things up so it wouldn’t affect me too badly. It started off slow, only cutting every so often, and then every little thing eventually became an overwhelming issue.
Time and time again, I tried to quit cutting. I would last anywhere from 2 weeks to 6 months. I would eventually always come back to it and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why! Giving in after quitting would only frustrate me more and I often would ask myself if quitting the habit was even worth it.
It had been 6 months and 2 weeks since I last cut. For weeks, the urge to cut had been building and this particular night, I gave in. I cut myself 4 times on my upper thigh before collapsing on my bed in tears and exhaustion. I began my ritual of grumbling to God about giving in again abd the regret of doing it after so long of stopping when I finally just stopped and thought about WHY I couldn’t quit once and for all. Then it hit me.
I may have given up the act of cutting but I didn’t give up the reasons why I was cutting in the first place. I was only pulling back the bandaid a bit to let the wound air out and heal for a bit before I slapped it right back on!
That night I seriously took into account the reasons I was cutting myself. All the way back to the first break of skin. The reasons why I cut when I was 12 were different reasons for why I was cutting at 16. I realized I would have to give those reasons from back then and now to God if I ever really wanted to quit cutting.
So I did.
It has been nearly 7 months since that night. That night I ripped off the bandaid completely. This period of quitting has been different from any other time. When I think about cutting now, it’s in the past tense and I can honestly say that I don’t even get the urge to cut anymore. God has takens those burdens from me and I don’t feel the need to cover up the hurt and the pain anymore.
Without cutting, I have less stress, fears, and worries. There is still some there, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not an extreme anymore.
Without cutting, I’m free.

A Victim – Her Story ♥

Brooke — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 21:35:14 +0000

This is a story about suicide. I wish it was a story about rescue and hope, but it’s not. It’s a story about victims , the ones who are left to deal with the pain, anger, and the inevitable questions when someone kills themselves. Here, one girl describes how her friend’s suicide has permanently changed her, and how she’s fighting to get back to normal.

*Annie describes her friend *Sharon as “probably the nicest, sweetest girl you could have ever met”. Annie and Sharon had known each other for years , and although Sharon moved a couple of towns over, they kept in touch and stayed close friends. Sharon hated where she moved to, had some problems, but she seemed to be have any emotional issues under control with medication. She never seemed sad, and everything thing seemed fine. This is why Annie was stunned to hear that Sharon had jumped in front of a train after a fight with her girlfriend. Apparently, Sharon was so upset after the fight that she called 3 different people and said “I’m going to do it, I’m going to kill myself.” One of them called Sharon’s brother, and he ran down to the train station to try and stop her, but it was too late. By that time she had already made a choice in one devastating moment that could never be taken back. And in that one moment, many lives have been changed forever. Of course her family, they will never fully recover from that loss, and her brother left to always wonder if he could have only gotten there a little sooner. Her best friend, who was on the phone with her at the time, and has the rest of her life to remember the sound of the train horn suddenly cut to silence. Suicide affects families, circles of friends, entire schools and communities. It affected Annie deeply. After hearing the news at drama rehearsal, she was in shock until she went home to her room, listed to some music and let the awful truth sink in. “I fell into a depression. my grades went down the drain, just everything stopped for me. I felt horrible, I looked horrible, I was just a big mess.” Four months after Sharon’s death, Annie heard about the organization, To Write Love On Her Arms. She finally got a sense that there is some hope , that suicide can be prevented. Annie had this to say about healing from the pain of Sharon’s suicide: ” I started to get involved with TWLOHA, and I love them with everything I have. I also started to make sure I helped people. I refuse to lose another friend to something that can be prevented. I had a big reality check then, you never know when something is going to happen.. You never know if someone you love may be gone the next day, So I try to make the best of everything, and help everyone I can. I want to spend the rest of my life helping people. I still don’t know how, but I know I want to.

“I came to the conclusion that suicide is probably the most selfish thing you can ever do, all the family and friends you leave behind, how they have to pay for your mistake, your actions can’t be taken back.”

Hypnotized – Her Story ♥

admin — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 16:59:47 +0000

I was born into this world unwanted. It was apparent that my birth mother never wanted me. It was okay though, if I would have lived with her who knows where I would have ended up? She was a hooker and a drug fiend. My father could have been one of five men. I was born addicted to cocaine and blind in my left eye. I was a sick baby and my birth mother couldn’t handle it. My nightly screaming became regular. I just wanted to be loved. I have always felt that God is the only one that had use for me.

I was nine weeks old when my adoptive parents took me into their home. They were both in their mid forties. I had a big sister who was eleven years older than me. We grew up together. She was amazing. She taught me so many things. I also had other brothers and sisters who were much older than me that lived elsewhere. My birth mother had a son who is one year older than I. We have different fathers… of course.

Though I was adopted, I still got to see my birth mother. I constantly seen drug deals, her sleeping with different men, shooting up, taking hits, partying, and tons of abuse. It was often that I seen my mom being beaten by different men. There were always police officers at her house. I remember one particular time when she threw my brother down the stairs. I still remember the sound his body made as it THUMP THUMP THUMPED down each stair. I was crying so hard I could hardly breathe. I was scared to death that my mom would do that to me. Now don’t get me wrong, my birth mother has a good heart, but drugs take over a person’s heart, mind, body and soul. It took me a lot of growing up to do to realize that drugs change a person for the worse. I’m sure she meant well.

At nine years old my big sister died in a car accident. My sister was my best friend. She took me to ballet practice and taught me how to blow bubbles with chewing gum. She was the best sister a little girl could ever have. I remember seeing the truck that she died it… it was about the size of a Geo Metro after it was all smooshed up. My sister died on impact. They had to remove the steering wheel that was encased in her chest.

My mom and dad changed. They argued a lot. Momma always called me by my sister’s name. I felt like she wanted it to be me that died. One day Momma was standing in the middle of the road and she fell to her knees and started weeping. The ambulance came and took her away. She had a nervous breakdown. It was after that that her split personalities began coming out. There was a really mean one that would dig her nails into the skin on my arm. That one was always angry- it really scared me. The other one was just like me. She spoke really soft, her name was Angel. She played dolls with me sometimes.

At ten years old my brother Christopher died in a motorcycle accident. He was struck by a drunk driver in a big truck. I don’t remember that as much as when my sister died. I remember seeing him in the casket, it was really scary.

When Chris died we moved to Oregon. My mom and dad couldn’t afford my school bills. I attended Catholic school. It was like being in a different world at public school. I noticed that boys and girls could play together! I wasn’t interested in the boys though… I really liked girls. My best friend and I played house a lot. It wasn’t like normal though- we were both the mommies. We always kissed each other. I had never seen girls kiss before. I knew we weren’t supposed to, but I really liked it.

Death has been a curse that won’t seem to leave me alone. By the age of 12 two siblings, three uncles, and two of my grandmothers passed away. In junior high I met a guy who I really liked. Quickly, I fell head over hills in love. My grades also fell! One time I got grounded because my grades were so bad. That night was the first time I experimented with cutting. It felt so good. I was hypnotized by the blood trickling down. It was like a beautiful morbid dance. I gradually became obsessed with cutting. I loved the immediate release of pain, hurt, and anger as soon as the razor blade tore through my milky skin. As the blood would drip out it got easier and easier to breathe. At twelve I also started being promiscuous. It wasn’t with boys, with my best girl friends. I was infatuated with lust. At thirteen I gave my innocence to my boyfriend, my “one true love”.

At fourteen my boyfriend broke up with me for another girl. I had given this guy everything, even my virginity. I risked everything so that he would love me. I just wanted to be loved by him. Every night before bed I would pray that God wouldn’t let me wake up again. One night I thought about slitting my wrists and lying in his driveway to bleed out. After being so torn up about everything else and being caught up in the harsh world of self mutilation I attempted suicide. At fourteen years old I decided to call it quits. I took an entire bottle of 800 mg of pain killers and instead of water I gulped them down with gin.

I started going to church after my suicide attempt. I had to. I really didn’t want to. It was some sort of tortuous punishment that my psychologist made me do that I soon became in love with. The people were so nice and they accepted me the way I looked. It was amazing to know that such happiness could be found in Christ. Though I found Christ I couldn’t stop cutting. Cutting is the only habit that I haven’t fully been able to break.

The summer of my sophomore year my grandfather died from his long and rugged struggle with Alzheimer’s disease. He was an incredible man.

Junior year I abandoned Christ and started dating my ex once again. Yep, the one that cheated on me and treated me like crap, also the one I attempted suicide over. I was SO in love, excuse me while I vomit, I was SO naïve. I gave up my faith, my light for a boy. Soon, I would come to find out that I was just as stupid as when I was thirteen. I found out by a good friend (that would soon become my main squeeze) that “the love of my life” was cheating on me AGAIN. I was done this time.

The summer after my junior year my brother Terry died in surgery. After my sissy died he and I became super close. He was my favorite. We were nearly inseparable. It was really hard for him to miss my high school graduation. It will be even harder when he misses my wedding this spring. I was infuriated with God. How could he take my big brother? How could this happen again? I’m just thankful that he wasn’t suffering anymore.

During my senior year my friend Tyler committed suicide. I realized then that suicide is the single most selfish thing that a person could do. It’s also the most cowardly way out. I am so thankful to have a second chance at life. After seeing so much death it’s apparent that life is so fragile and that we need to embrace it. Life is a gift!

During senior year I fell in love with my best friend. We played as children, grew up together, went through ups and downs, relationships and finally realized that we were the only one there for one another through it all! We have been together for three years now. Next May we will officially become husband and wife. I have never been so in love. It’s different. My eyes are open and I’ve learned so much. I know that this is forever. It’s that kind of love. I am incredibly blessed that God has given me Nick.

After I graduated high school I started attending college, wow. I never imagined that I would have made it! I had been getting tons of medical tests done for the past few years. Finally, a specialist knew what was wrong with me! I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). Long story short is that my hormones are all messed up. There are tons of other medical issues associated with PCOS such a diabetes, heart disease, and infertility. I also have a tumor on my right ovary. I may not be able to enjoy the gift of being a mother. I’ve always wanted a little baby to call my own. If it’s in God’s plan it will happen.

The summer before my sophomore year in college my grandmother passed away. It’s sad to say but I’ve quickly grown accustomed to funerals and death. If there’s anyone out there reading my story that has gone through some of the struggles that I have- please know that tomorrow is a whole new day. A new chance. My advice to you is to stay strong and know that you are amazing. With God’s love you can endure anything. If he’s on your side you can climb mountains, swim oceans, and touch the sky. You can do anything you set your heart to. Follow your dreams and never let people cut you down. YOU are worth it. YOU are wonderful. I just hope that my story helps someone else.

So here I am in my second year of college, I have a good family, and hopefully soon I will be making my own little family, wink wink. I’m just twenty years old but have endured more than I could wish on my worst enemy. I’ve been through loads of trials and have made too many mistakes to even count. BUT- You know what?! I wouldn’t change one thing that I’ve experienced or one mistake that I’ve ever made. Life is about learning. Take chances. Love with all of your heart. Laugh until you cry! Cry until you laugh. Never give up. I truly have no regrets. I have learned so much from just living life. I have become a more knowledgeable, mature, and humble person than I ever would have if my life was peachy keen. Dream as if you’re going to live forever- live as if you’ll die today. Remember to be true to yourself and have a forgiving heart. When the world knocks you on your knees remember that that’s the perfect chance to pray. Some say that I have a good attitude and that I’m brave. Of course that’s true because I do not give up. I can and will not. I’ve had to make myself strong. There is no use dwelling on the past because there’s no going back- so live on! The rest of your life is unwritten! Cherish those who mean the most to you. Tomorrow is never promised.

Confidence – Her Story ♥

admin — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 16:56:17 +0000

I just wanted to give you a brief of my story and if you ever need it to help anyone to see that there really is hope.. Then im sure part of my story will help =]

Basically i have a phobia, that almost ruined my life.. I wanted to end everything, but i knew i couldnt, i knew i had to be strong for my family so i kept with it. I made sure i told people how i felt so that they would know if things were starting to get bad again.

It started to get to a stage where i could never leave the house. Id have panic attacks over everything. I couldn’t eat because i was scared. I lost my 3 best friends over the silliest argument. And this was when i needed them the most. So things got worse and i went to the doctors to get help. 5 months on i felt so much better, Felt like i was improving.

And with the help of my mum and friends i got through it and now that i have my confidence back i know i can do anything if i put my mind to it.

Now although ive never actually cut myself, the thought was always there.. and i was the only person that could stop my self from doing it. I realised i had the power to do what i wanted.. And over come anything.

Now i’m happier than ever. Although i never spoke to my “best friends” again, I realized that they were never the kind of people i needed in my life. And the friends that stuck by me helped and they are the ones that matter.

I guess what im trying to say is.. If i can over come this.. Then so can you =] xx

Pain is Inevitable – Her Story ♥

admin — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 16:40:50 +0000

You see, I grew up in a home with an abusive step father (verbally, and physically). And a mother who was supposed to be my rock. The stable one. Well when I was thirteen they split up. She had finally had enough of him hitting her and I, starving her, and the other endless abusive things he did to her over the years. For the first time in my life, I felt as if I had freedom. And I guess I took advantage of it. I started smoking, and drinking regularly. Never tried the whole “pot” thing. For awhile at least. Slowly my average straight A grade point average began slipping. I managed to pass the eighth grade and go on to high school. But High school was the beginning of my downfall. I would ditch class to go off and smoke pot with friends, and go to school higher than a kite. I never did my work. And I was never home. I had completely lost control. Most mornings I would wake up in daze. I would wake up sometimes, fully clothed, shoes and all. Without a clue what happened the night before. I seemed to the outside world, carefree. I had also dealt with the issue of cutting for years. Since I was twelve. Wearing long sleeves, and bracelets to cover it up. I never thought I was out of control. With anything, cutting, drinking, or drugs.. Until one night, I got so messed up that I completely blacked out, had no recollection of anything that occurred the night before. I found myself calling my friends, making sure I hadn’t left with any guys, or hadn’t gotten in any fights. My life was simply crazy. I was only fifteen and living the life of a junkie. Floating from house to house. Sleeping on different people couches. When I decided I’d had enough. I started staying home more, hanging out with my brother and his friends. Who were much older than me. Thinking they would put me in a better direction. I was wrong of course. My brother ended up hooking me up with one of his friends, who soon after moved into the house with us. We slept together every night. For the first time in my life, I felt completely safe in a guys arms. I thought he was the one. Silly me. After a few months of dating, talking about getting married and having children.. (I was fifteen and he was eighteen) He decided to get his own apartment. He said it was nothing against me, he just couldn’t handle living with as many people as we did. Seeing as I was living with my brother, his girlfriend, his three friends, and our cousin. It was only a few houses down from my mom’s. And she was off drinking all the time so she didn’t really care.. Well my boyfriend moved into his apartment. And everything was still cool. And then, I found out I was pregnant.. I didn’t know what to do, who I could trust enough to tell. And I knew that If I told my mom she would beat the hell out of me. I called my boyfriend nearly immediately after finding out. But for three days he didn’t answer his phone. I thought he was just busy. So I kept trying. One day I gave in. So I texted him and asked him what was up with him. And he said he didn’t want to be with me anymore. He didn’t even give me a chance to tell him I was pregnant, and after him telling me that.. I couldn’t even begin to think of what to say to him. So I just found myself back where I started. I was so self conscious, had no respect for myself, or my body. And just figured I was better off dead. I started cutting again. And this time the cuts were getting deeper, and deeper. I was having to work harder and harder to figure out way’s of covering them up.. I was wearing big hoodies and zip up jackets in the middle of summer. Always trying to use the excuse that I was cold natured. But I was also trying to cover up my belly. Pretty soon, I knew I would start to show. I’m not exactly sure when I stopped eating. All I know is that instead of getting bigger like most pregnant girls, I was losing weight left and right. My pants were falling off of me, and I weighed less than I had ever weighed my entire teenage life. I had no appetite. No one understood it though. Everyone thought I was just mourning the loss of my boyfriend and trying to pull one of those “emo” things. I had other more important things to think about, I didn’t have time to eat. And when I did eat, It made me nauseous. Meanwhile I had quit everything except for smoking ciggarettes completely cold turkey, because I knew it wasn’t healthy for the baby. And I was trying my best to take care of myself. Well one night, my brother threw this huge party. Low and behold, guess who decided to show? My baby’s daddy. He had big news. Him and his ex were back together, and he was leaving in January for boot camp. The whole night, we were in the same room together. Never once did he look in my direction or even acknowledge me. Of course not. I was old news apparently. So since I had no where to go, to sneak away and cut my pain away.. I began to drank. Not even thinking of the baby. I drank, and drank. Until I couldn’t even stand. After everyone finally left, and the occupants of the house were all that remained, I went to my room, and decided that I couldn’t do it anymore. So I got into my brothers medicine cabinet in the bathroom and started looking for something that would make the pain stop. The emotional pain. The pounding headache. The nausea. It felt like I was so depressed that it hurt to breathe. I found what I was looking for finally. The label said not to mix with alcohol. But, the side effects were exactly the ones I had hoped for. I went in the kitchen and grabbed one last drink, and down the hatch went all 19 pills, and the entire contents of the bottle. And that was the last thing I remembered.

I’m not exactly sure what happened. Because this is the point where my memory gets foggy. But the first thing I remember thinking was that everyone was right. You do see a bright light when you die.. A very annoying, almost sterile while flourescent. Sort of like the ones …..at the hospital. I had woken up in a hospital bed. The doctors told me that they had to pump my stomache.. They also informed me, that I would no longer be a mommy. I had not only managed to earn myself a hospital bill from hell, but had also killed the little helpless life inside of me. The score was settled. Stomache pump, one. Me, Negative two. After finding me passed out, nearly dead in his bathroom, my brother decided it was no longer wise for me to live with him. So I moved on home to my mother. I had completely given up on school at this point and had not even bothered to show up for at least a month. When my mom decided one day she had had enough of her fifteen year old being a party animal. And tried to crack down on me. Instead of realizing that all she was doing was trying to help I became hurt. I thought that my life was being taken from me, and faught back. I over reacted and pushed her, and she proceeded to beating me down until I looked like a walking bruise. So I moved out. Decided to move in with a friend. Who inspired me to quit everything. Cold turkey. No ciggarettes, no drinking, no drugs, and abstaining from the dirty deed. All was well for the first month and half. Until I met this one guy. We started dating. A week went by, and he invited me over to in teenage terms “watch a movie.” I had fully intended on watching the movie though, considering i was taking a stab at this whole new life. But He just wasn’t hearing it. So he continually tried to get me in the sack until I got frustrated and hit him. Without thinking.. He got up, left the room. I guess to go calm down, and that’s when I started freaking out. I started texing away. Trying to find someway out of his house and back to mine, where I felt safe. He walked in, saw me texting and I guess he was pretty quick because he managed to get my phone away from me and punch me once square in the head hard enough to nearly knock me out. Laying on his bed, cradling my head in tears, I had no clue what was about to happen. All I knew is that there was no way out. No way to run or scream. No one in the house but me and him, and he had taken my phone. So there was no way of contacting anyone in the event of an emergency. Before I knew what was happening this guy had me started duct taping my hands together, and my feet. But he didn’t do anything to my mouth. He started whispering in my ear exactly what he was going to do to me, and telling me that he didn’t tape my mouth because he didn’t want to muffle the screams. He wanted to hear them. He said that the more girls faught, it turned him on. I was completely speechless. I knew what was about to happen to me, but not only could I not see straight enough to try and move, but he had already gotten me to where even if I wanted to move I couldn’t. So I just closed my eyes. And tried to stop the tears. While he violently took my dignity away from me. When he was done. Before he would let me go, he made me swear not to tell. That if I did, he would burn down my entire apartment complex. Or he would break into my room late at night, and when I was least expecting it, do worse to me than he already had. And slit my throat. So I promised I wouldn’t tell. I just begged and pleaded for him to let me go home. Finally, he gave me my phone back reluctantly and I ran for it. I called my friends mom to come and get me. She didn’t ask a single question when I got in the car. She was frustrated that she had to drive halfway across town to get me. But I didn’t care. I was still alive. That’s all that matters. I didn’t cry, I didn’t tell her a thing. I didn’t even hardly look at anyone. We got home, I went to my room, locked the door and had a long over due visit with my razorblade.

Since that day, I haven’t been able to share my story with anyone. I have nightmares all the time. And I hardly sleep. Since then I don’t like people to touch me. I’m doing better with the cutting now. It’s been about three or four weeks since I’ve even had the urge to cut.. But sometimes I still feel like it’s all I can do to stop the pain. But I’ve realized that the pain is inevitable; suffering is optional. If you choose to live in the past, then you will suffer and it’s no one else’s fault but your own.

Scared – Maddens Story ♥

admin — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 16:39:17 +0000

My dad used drugs when I was a baby. When he was on them he would get so paranoid that he would wake me up from a dead sleep or wake my mom up and make her stay up with him all night and then go to work the next morning. Finally my mom got sick of it all and my mom and dad started yelling and fighting, me sitting right there on the bed having to listen to it all. I remember screaming and crying at the top of my lungs (I was 3 years old at this point). My mom picked me up and took me to my room and told me everything would be okay (the only way I know this is my grandma told me).

My mom decided to divorce my dad when I was 3. My mom picked me up to leave; everything was already in the van. Momma was putting me in my car seat, she shut the van door, I looked out the window at my dad standing in the door way. I really didn’t know what was going on at that moment. I was around 4 to 6 years old when my mom tried to start dating again, but my dad would threaten who ever my mom was dating and scare them off. My mom just gave up. So my mom raised me on her own. I was always the wild child and as I got older I got into more trouble. My mom couldn’t always watch me and know where I was at all times. So when I hit 14 years old I started doing things I never done before, things I never thought I would do. It started to get bad. I started one thing then I would go to another. My mom started asking questions and I started lying to her about every thing I lied to everyone saving my own butt so I wouldn’t get in trouble. Started skipping out on my friends, lying to my friends, lying to my family, staying mad , and getting all defensive when some one would ask me a question.

Then 2 months before I turned 15 I got questioned by a cop about my dad when my mom was gone. He was asking me have you heard from your dad. Has he tried to contact you and a whole bunch of other things? And when he got done asking me questions I asked him what this was all about and he was like your dad has been asking child support agents a bunch about you and asking if there is a way he can get you all the time. I told my mom that she broke down in tears, all she said was, “NO!!!!!! He can’t get you. He can’t, he can’t. The only reason he wants to get you is for his own personal gain. He is only going to use you.”

My mom went in to a mental melt down. She stayed scared all the time that my dad was going to show up and take me. This lasted about 5 months and finally my mom clammed down a little but she was still worried. I prayed to God that he would help me and my family get through everything that gets in our way. Things started getting better then my 16th birthday came and he called telling me he loved me and he was sorry singing happy birthday and all. It’s been almost 4 months and hasn’t heard from him but I know in my heart he will call or show up just to make everything worse again. I stay scared all the time but I never let any one know it. So please pray for me and that everything will be okay.

I hate staying scared.

Pain – Her Story ♥

admin — Mon, 20 Oct 2008 16:29:56 +0000

I felt pain all the time, from friends, from family, and even from myself. I couldn’t take away my pain from the inside so I decided to cover up with cutting. I have always been able to deal with physical pain so it was easier to deal with pain on my arm and ignore the pain in my heart.

Then I couldn’t take life anymore, so that is when I decided to kill myself. I sat down at the end of my bed knife in hand ready to slit my wrists. I started to cut straight across my wrist but right before I came to the main vain in my wrist I couldn’t move the knife anymore.

Looking back I realized that was the first time I experienced God in my life. God was right there holding that knife so I could not move it anymore. Because of the mercy of God I am still here today and now I give everything I have to Him.

Abuse – Her Story ♥

admin — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 16:27:13 +0000

I am 15 and my father abused me. I spent every day in fear of him. For no reason I would be hit and go flying over tables and into walls. After a while I wouldn’t even come out of my room after my father got home. In his eyes I was nothing, I can never do anything right. He died a few years ago and everyone told me how good a man he was, and how happy I should be that I had had him. In my mind I was then, and still am, asking; did he ever really love me?

Tell Me I’m Beautiful – Her Story ♥

admin — Mon, 29 Sep 2008 16:14:13 +0000

Walking in those halls at school is hell. My friends tell me I’m pretty. I spend 2 hours every morning getting ready for school…my hair is always done. My makeup is always perfect. My clothes always match. I always feel so fake, but I’ve gotton so use to this lifestyle I don’t know how to just love ME. I’ve created somebody that isn’t me. I want to be pretty. But I want to be myself. I don’t know how to do them both at the same time.

Every time I’m with a guy I never feel pretty enough for him. I constantly feel like I’m never thin enough or my hair is never good enough…

I just want to believe I’m beautiful.