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Lessons of life. - A bio of my abusive life. |
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Yeah. I know the lessons of life.
I know what it means to die, to feel nothing but death all around you.
My life has been far worse than many people's, and it should have never been this bad.
My past...
When I was little, about 3-4 years old, my mom started beating me and my brothers. My mother was a bit insane. My brother Shawn ((A.K.A Bat-man)) was about 13 at the time. He called children and families, and had us all taken away from my mother. We were all then split up, and placed in diffrent places in the state, without any contact at all with eachother, or my mother. The foster home that I went to was even worse than living with my real mom. They never changed me, ((Mind you I was just a toddler)) And they never fed me. They would beat me for no reason, and I almost died. I was then placed in another foster home, which wasn't much better, but I got fed and changed there, I still got slapped around. Meanwhile my mom was dying of the loss in the hospital, and was slowly wasting away. My brothers didn't fair too much better than me. We were all being abused, and really had no hope at oll of seeing eachother ever again. Then my mom started to get over the loss, and she got out of the hospital, and took anger management classes to get us all back. It worked, and after 2 years of moving every other month to a new home, which was usally worse than the last, I was sent back to my mom along with my brothers. My mom treated us like gems for about a month, then went back to drinking and beating us. But atleast we were together, or that's how I saw it. Then they took away my brother Shawn, and sent him back into foster care. It tore me apart. Though I was little, I knew what was going on. My brother Shawn is my hero. Always has been, and I'm sure he always will be. Then my mom moved me and my brother David away from where my brother Shawn was staying. And continued to beat us, and drink. Till one day, she took us to a restrant, got a little too dunk, and got a DUI and got us taken away again. I stood there screaming at the cops as they took me and my brother away from my mom as I saw her put into the back of a police car. Me and my brother David then lived together in a foster home with this evil, wicked b***h. She didn't beat us, but she treated us like dogs. She wouldn't even let us brush our teeth. And we could only got to the bathroom at certain times of the day. Meanwhile, My mom was back in the courts doing everything possible to get me and David back. She had grown a hatred for my brother Shawn, and had tryed several times to kill him. Meanwhile, me and David were staying with this crazy lady named Cheryl. She wasn't nearly half as bad as everyone else. For once in our lives we were pretty much free. We didn't get beat every day of our lives, and things were finally looking up. I was about 10 then, and my mom had been fighting for us for 3 years. Finally the courts gave us back to her, and we moved to this shitty town of Port Charlotte. Not too far from where I had been living previously with Cheryl. My mom treated us great, lovingly and caring for about 3-4 moths, then when the coast was clear from foster care, she released all of her angers on us by beating us, and treating us like slaves. After about 2 years of this, my mom started getting really sick. She was a diabetic, and she started refusing to take her medicines. I came home one day from my friends house, to find her almost dead on the couch. My brother David was in his room, and had no idea what had been going on, and when I started screaming, he came running out, and hitting me, telling me to shut up. Then he saw my mom, and started crying, like I was. I called 9-11 and they came to the house, and took her to the hospital. Me and my brother had no where to go, we were home all alone. My brother had been in boy scouts for a while, and got the clever idea to call this totally awesome guy named Bruce. Bruce is another one of my hero's. I don't think I would be alive today if it wasn't for him. Any who. Bruce came over and got us, and took us out to his boat and explained things to us. My mom was in a coma, and they didn't know if she would ever come out of it. I was almost 11 then, and I was torn apart by it. At the age of 10 I started drinking, and partying with the nabors. I got myself into really bad situations, and soon I became addicted to heroin. 2 weeks later, my mom woke up, and puled out of it, and the hospital let her come home. She knew I had saved her life, but she didn't care. She called me worthless, and beat me more than she ever had. But she still refused to take her meds. So the hospital gave me this HUGE needle full of Glaucous to give to her, when she went into diabetic shock, and it would keep her alive until the ambulances got there. This only threw me more into dispare, and I started drinking even more, and shooting less. About 5-6 weeks after that, I came home from school to find my mom, once again, almost dead on the couch. Now, I'm deathly afraid of needles ((Ironic, yes, I know.)) And I was home alone, with my almost dead mother. I got the shot and gave it to her, and called the ambulance. She went into another coma, and was like that for about 2-3 weeks. Then she came out of it, and her brain was turned to mush, she had become like a vegetable, and so, we were forced to put her in a nursing home, when she was only 47. My brother David and me then went to live with Bruce out on his boat. I hardly ever got to visit my mother because she was so far away. No one thought that she could get out of it, and come back, but after a month, she came around, and snapped back to herself. The doctors have no clue how. I was just glad to have my mother back, even if she did beat me. My mom was so nice for a while afterwards, making us meals, and treating us like we should be treated. Then she bought some vodka, and went back to her routine of beating us. I was still drinking, and smoking heroin. After a few moths passed, I entered the 7th grade. The worst grade of my life. A few months after school started, my mom fell into another coma. calling the hospital had become about a every other day thing, I called so much, I knew the team's kids. And that is not a joke. My mom was always falling into diabetic shock, and there was nothing I could do but watch as the shoved needles into her and take her to the hospital. I hadn't really seen my brother Shawn, and I missed him dearly. I finally got a hold of him and told him what had been happing, and he told me that if she started to go under this time, they were just going to pull the plug, and they weren't going to save her. A few drunk days passed, and at 3 in the morning we got a call from the hospital telling us that my mom's heart heart had slowed, and we had better say our good byes. I hadn't visited my mom for the whole 2 weeks that she had been in the hospital because right before she went into her coma, we had gotten into a huge argument, and she had busted my head open on a window sill. That was nothing uncommon, it happened almost every other day. But I was learning that I had to fight back, and so I had pushed and knocked the crap out of my own mother. I was so angry with her, that I refused to see her. But as soon as I got to the hospital, I grabbed her in my arms and started crying. She was unconscious, and went flat line in my arms. I stood there with her dead in my arms till the nurses dragged me away, I was screaming at them, begging them to save her. Even after all she had done to me. I then went into a serious state of depression, and drank and drank all the time. I lived with Bruce for about a year or so. My brother had been beating me along with my mother. And now that she was gone, he picked up her slack, and I got beat even more then when my mom was alive. My brother was alot stronger than my mom, she his beatings were even worse. Things weren't working with me living with Bruce, So I went back to live with the foster lady named Cheryl. We had stayed in touch because me and one of her daughters considered our selves sisters. Living there was good for about a year or so. Then we all started getting tired of each other. My brother had been emancipated, and was staying in the old house that my, him, and my mom had before she had died. He didn't like Cheryl though, and he kept trying to steal me away from there. Though I hated it there, and I wanted to kill myself every second I was there, I wouldn't let him take me. I knew he would beat me, like he did when I would visit him. I started hanging out with the wrong crowds again, and I once again got addicted to heroin, and drinking. It was easier to get away with it then, because I was being kicked out of the house almost every day. I often tryed to kill myself, but Bruce always talked me out of it, and would hold me till I felt better. In his last year of high school, my brother met this wonderful girl, and fell inlove with her. She then leaned about my situation at Cheryl's and talked to her parents about letting me live with them. they said yes, and I moved out of Cheryl's. A freshman in high school at the time, and for the very first time, I have 2 parents that love me. They are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I quit shooting, And I'm trying to quit drinking. When I first moved in here, I started dating what I thought was this wonderful guy. He didn't hit me, and he had great morals and out looks on life. But after a year and 9 months, I found out that he had been cheating on me with a girl he had never met, and was inlove with her, not me. And we Just broke up about 24 days ago. And I hate his guts, I'm so glad we are broken up, even if it did break my heart.
 BuLL_ShEEt_BoX · Fri Jun 29, 2007 @ 11:22pm · 2 Comments |
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