Author Topic: Katie's Story  (Read 7235 times)

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Offline psy

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Katie's Story
« on: April 11, 2009, 12:16:51 AM »
Original topic here:
viewtopic.php?f=49&t=27274&start=0

Part 1:
Quote from: "Katies Thoughts"
ok people, i have read the things you have written. this is katie. i am an 18 year old who struggles alot. thinking about it i am in an undeniable way afraid to do things after the program. for the first few months i was afraid to even look at or talk with boys. At the "program" we were seperated and told that it was bad for us to interact. i am still afraid of many things, such as the fact that in july i turn 19 and i will have to get an aprtment. i am scared so much. sometimes i wonder if there is an actual place for me in the world. i have made mistakes. throughout the program i learned things, i saw things, and yes I was physically restrained. i still remeber the staff joking about the isolation room as "happy land". i was in that room 6 times. The first few months were very difficult and were hard on me. i still hold alot of guilt over my head becuase of "wasting my parents money". Not only do my parents feel as if it was a waste of time and money, but they feel as if it could be better spent on our family or my older's brothers/ stepsisters college.

Right now, seeing my own words on the blog scares me. What if my parent see them? will there be al hell to pay? I am not afraid of saying what i feel... but i am afraid of what Diane will do. (OH! I have not caled her a bitch or any rude names in months by the way, i am trying to stay out of the line of fire...)  In all honesty i do love her. She is the only mother i have ever known and, she has really taken a risk to be in my life. i have not been the best step daughter... but i do love her. Even now, when i tell her this she ignores me and it breaks my heart... For my daddy, he is the best dad anyone could ask for... he has fought for me all if my life... he saved me from my biological mother, but he has led me into the relationship with Diane.

I will be posting comments of my opinions and story daily starting with this. If you wish i will do an autobiography fro those of you who want to watch out for the warnign signs. But please know this: I love my family. Even though it hurts me to say this i feel as if things would be better for them if i were not around ( In which i am reminded of quite often) for those of you who want to comment feel free to do so, but know that i will not tollerate abuse of any kind. I want people to know my thoughts or feelings, so tomorrow our journey thorugh my life will begin.

Thanks for reading.Please any comments or questions email me @ Kazzie2008@hotmail.com[/color]

Part 3:

Quote from: "katiesthoughts"
Let’s see.

 :waaaa: I left off, the summer I met Christy. Looking wherever I could for friends, I found some. I began hanging out with people who were different. People like me. At the beginning we were innocent teenagers, watching movies, laughing making stupid jokes, and then we began to grow up. After a while Christy and I both were having issues with our lives, so like everyone in this world we held onto something that was not changing. Each other.
   I found Christy cutting herself with a razor blade one day after letting myself into her house. I began to cry to see her hurting like that. She explained it was the only way to get rid of her pain. Looking for any escape I could, I tried it. The first cut was the hardest. I couldn’t believe the relief as I saw the droplets of my own blood forming on my arm. I felt so relieved. Over and over again, I cut until I didn’t feel the jabbing pain inside of my chest from my broken heart.
   After that first day, I went home I sat at the dining room table trying to hide my arms. I didn’t want anyone to know. I was reading a book tucking my arms under my sleeves. Unfortunately it was a white shirt and they still bled. Walking up behind me Diane saw the blood. She didn’t say anything to me but she went and whispered to my dad. I didn’t suspect that they knew. As I got up my dad did also. He grabbed my arms, not only pulling up the sleeves of my shirt but opening the temporary scabs. He looked at me as if I were Satan. “If you EVER do this again we are going to have you committed to an insane asylum” he said. I began to cry. Diane looked at me, and said “Do you understand how serious this is? Are you trying to make this family more stressed because of you?” every word dripped with disdain. I rant to my room. I wanted to hide forever.
   I cried myself to sleep for the few moments I was cutting I was not hurting, and they didn’t understand. The next day, I went over to Christy’s and told her about what had happened. She was the only one who understood my pain. Our routine began. We hung out, and then if we needed it cut. We did everything together. This continued for a few months. After a while the cuts became more frequent and deeper, and I no longer was with Christy when I cut myself. I did it on my legs, thighs upper arms stomach.
   After a while Christy began getting into drugs. Weed, coke, shrooms. I was so scared to even touch the stuff. However I found myself content with cigarettes, and alcohol. I was with Christy almost every spare minute I had. Sneaking out to go to parties, walking around neighbourhoods all night. We were the rebellious teenagers, more so her than me. I got contact high quite a few times, but as I said before I was scared shitless to really use.
   The excitement of it all was wearing off. Cutting wasn’t working anymore, and people began to notice all I wore was baggy sweaters to hide the cuts and scars. I was bored and I wanted to join in with my friends. I began huffing Lysol and paint. The first few times it was nice. Then one day Christy passed out. I couldn’t wake her up, so I did what anyone would do. I called 911. the hospital was a nightmare. Not only was I scared but my parents were called. At that point my dad came and got me. He made me tell him everything about what I had been doing. I was terrified. I was forbidden to see Christy.
   The situation worsened I lied more and more to se her. I stole money for her. I wanted her friendship so bad I let her take advantage of me, and soon it turned ugly. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and after being made fun of at school I didn’t want to take it anymore. I went up to my room and wrote notes to all of my friends. I wanted to die. I went down to the living room and sat on the couch. I began to cut myself, daring myself to do it. I wanted it so bad, and the cuts were only the shallow ones. It wasn’t working. My dad walked into the house just as I got up to try another way. I grabbed my med box and almost had the pills down when my dad forcibly got them out of my mouth. He called the ambulance.
Since I hadn’t ingested any of the pills, I was taking to a psychiatric ward called KHYS. An outpatient program for kids who had tried to commit suicide. I was there for 2 ½ weeks. It was scary. White walls, limited visits. I was given different heavier medication to help with the depression. My family visited me every night bringing McDonalds and games, trying to make everything better. I thought it was a genuine attempt at fixing our family. But unfortunately it didn’t last. My dad was there the entire time. I felt a new respect for him, and I began to heal superficially. The meds made me a zombie once I took them and knocked me out at night. I was more calm and less expressive. I was discharged. I went home. I did well for a few weeks, until the things went back to the way before. The second time around things got much much worse. :waaaa:  ::OMG::


Again i thank you to everyone who will read this and i will write more tomorrow. this was hard for me to write so need support if you can give it.
Please any comments or questions you know how to reach me

Kazzie2008@hotmail.com
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Offline katiesthoughts

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #1 on: April 11, 2009, 01:22:53 AM »
Alright everyone. Lets get this started again. Part four.

   I was hospitalized in Khys again as I said, for slightly longer this time. I still continued to receive visits from family, but the tension was apparent even in a structured and moderated facility. The second time I was in treatment I had a room by myself. I felt so scared and alone I would beg Mollie to come and sit in my room until I fell asleep. I needed someone there. I turned off my emotions, thinking that no body could help me, due to beliefs ingrained in me not only by my biological mother but from my step-mother. I dearly wished that I would have died in that second attempt. Again my medication changed. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder ( a very mild form of bipolar) and night terrors at 14 years old. I was the family screw up. Has anyone read the trumpeter swan or saw the movie? To be swift about explaining my point a swan is born with no voice and everyone thinks there is something wrong with him. He leaves his family to try and find a way to communicate. While he is gone his father steals a trumpet that simulates the sounds a swan makes. This is basically how I felt. I was the swan with no voice. I was the one with the problem I was the one who was different than anyone else. Yet again I was discharged, but this time to “ensure my safety” I was put into an outpatient program where I could go to school at the facility and have daily check-ups then go home at night. This continued for 4 weeks. I became comfortable. I felt as if I was safe while I was there. No yelling, fun activities and fieldtrips. I had Mollie. I began to feel better again. I felt that I was finally starting to become normal, but as if so happens in my life, my perception is no where close to reality. When I “graduated” I got to go back to middle school. YAY! Not.
   My brothers had let it slip that I had been admitted to Khys. You see in my school, everyone knew about the facility. It was “the suicidal hangout” or the “crazy people place”. The moment I walked back into the school the whispers began. The pointing. It was even worse than before. You see I had been able to slip under the radar as just another person people get interested in for a few days and move on, now I was a psycho kid. I was ‘the freak”. In sociology there are three main causes of deviant behaviour, Labelling is one of them. When labelled often a person will live up to the label so as to fit in with those like them. This was my case. I dressed in all black. I hung out with the “Goth or Emo” kids. I tried to stand out in the crowd. All in all, after the second hospitalization I didn’t care whatsoever for anyone or anything. I began to slack off in my school work and blow it all off to hang out with… yep you guessed it. Christy.
   Her family got evicted due to late rent so she moved into the motel a few blocks from my house. It was even more convenient fro me, because my parents didn’t know what room she was in, so I could go and they couldn’t find me. I could hide from everything they wanted to blame me for.
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Offline psy

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #2 on: April 11, 2009, 01:33:11 AM »
It definately must have been tough returning from a place like that into a school where there were rumors that you were somehow "crazy".  Probably didn't do much to help you feel normal.  Maybe that's why you felt at home with outcasts.  That's not necessarily a bad thing.  Finding your own niche is not necessarily bad.  "goths" have a bad reputation, but by and large are no more troublemakers than the "popular" kids.

Parents have a lot of fear about "goths" (thanks to media scare used creates fear in order to sell solutions to nonexistant problesm) but by and large, the ones I knew when growing up were all about individuality and would never force or coerce a person to do anything they didn't want to.  There was much less peer pressure to, for example, do drugs with the goths than there would be with the "popular" kids.  I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that kids who want to be popular do anything to be accepted... and those who are already "rejects" accept each other for who they are.  In a sense, I think the "goths" (at least the ones I knew) are by and large far healthier than many cliques.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »
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"Our services are free; we do not make a profit. Parents of troubled teens ourselves, PURE strives to create a safe haven of truth and reality." - Sue Scheff - August 13th, 2007 (fukkin surreal)

Offline Miss Antsy Pam

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #3 on: April 11, 2009, 07:52:14 AM »
Dear Katie,

It is my desire that you will find acceptance here and HOPE that you will not be tormented the rest of your life.  Keep writing - it can be very cathartic just putting these words to paper.  As someone said, you CAN forget a lot because you were in shock and traumatized.  I admire your courage for sharing your most personal thoughts & feelings to complete strangers, but these will be the people that can help you feel "whole" again.

You have been thru a trauma that will not be healed easily, but there are LOTS pf people willing to help you.   Personally, I am glad that Femanon was so determined to make contact with you!!!

Welcome...Welcome...Welcome.  If there is somethig you need...just say the words and there will be many offers of help

peace can be found here :-)

~pam
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Offline dishdutyfugitive

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #4 on: April 11, 2009, 09:19:01 AM »
Katie - Thank you for sharing your story.

Do I understand this correctly - your father and stepmother have been writing a 'troubled teen' blog about their parenting experience for a few years now?
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Offline FemanonFatal2.0

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #5 on: April 11, 2009, 03:16:05 PM »
Good installment Katie, You should definitely study journalism.

I honestly hope your step mom reads this, then possibly she might realize what an effect her emotional abuse had on your psyche at this point in your life. I can't imagine what it would be like to actually prefer the mental hospital over being home, but I can understand your reasoning. It's not fair to a child in need to be isolated and cast out of their family, it sounds like your brothers were in some ways turned against you. Why else would they tell people at school? That's really just a cruel thing to do, everyone knows how harsh kids can be. I honestly wish there were more safe guarding against bullying in public school, but I guess its just a manifestation of our judgmental society.

I wouldn't be so quick to have hang ups with associating with the "goth crowd" your personal sense of style doesn't dictate who you are as a person, it should simply be a reflection of your taste in music and clothing, you don't have to accept the stigma as well. I went through a ton of phases when I was young, all that seem ridiculous to me now but that was just clothes and jewelry, I have always been the same person. I think in time you will be able to see the things that happened to you then, made you who you are today, and give it another few years and you will be saying the same thing, referring to now.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »
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Offline katiesthoughts

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #6 on: April 12, 2009, 05:29:46 PM »
Ok. It seems like with every single instalment my story becomes more and more difficult to write…   
   
At this point in 8th grade I began to skip classes and hang out in the counsellor’s office. I was depressed and lonely. Christy had quit coming to school  for a long while, and I jest felt as I if were the only one in school that had the same issues I did. I began to slack off in my favorite class: orchestra. I had been plying the cello for 4 years and was the 1st chair of my section (basically the captain). I was put to 2nd chair because I wasn’t concentrating enough and my playing was suffering. I felt horrible. Music was one thing I did well, that not even yelling could affect…. I felt like it was taken away from me.  I began to fake sick more and more so I could go home, and get away from the craziness of the world around me.
   My parents arranged for me to have a therapist when I graduated form khys, and I went once a week. She helped me to unload all of the shit I built up over the time I was away from the safe environment. Just the drive to the office was a hassle for me and Diane. Almost 90% of the time in the car` was spent in silence and the other 10% consisted of us yelling at each other. To put it bluntly things were like having my own personal hell at home, when most kids have their own personal sanctuary, in the thought that most kids can drop the act of images and happiness, as well as who they have to be at school. I didn’t I have that luxury. The mask of my image went on, and never came off. I became the clothes; the music. I was no longer me. There was no place that I could be myself. I remember writing in my journal:

“I am alone in a crowded room, as the only person in a mask. For people are masquerading as something else but when the night comes, the masks fall off and become dust. Mine stays as if cemented to my being. I am unable to remove it even if I wanted to.”
 
Nowhere was safe. I always had to protect myself with my only defence, my attitude and my friends.

I wasn’t interested in the same things anymore. All I wanted to do was be around Christy somehow, every time I was with her I felt alive again. Whole. It wouldn’t last. As I said before, I had a completely skewed perception of reality. I was 14 years old. I felt as if there wasn’t anything to live for. Yet again. I attempted suicide. This time I made it known. Goodbye, I screamed to my parents. I wanted them to know that I loved them. I took my med card out of the kitchen and up into the bathroom in a flash. My dad saw and followed me. He was shouting for my brother to help him. I locked the bathroom door. I looked at myself in the mirror and hated what I saw.
   I began to empty the med card, and take the pills that would end my life. My dad got into the bathroom. He wrestled one out of my hand. I was stunned. I didn’t understand why. Why was he trying to stop me? Isn’t this what he wanted? Wouldn’t he be happier? I didn’t get it at the time. Why did he care?“LEAVE ME ALONE! LET ME DO THIS!!!” I kept screaming at him. I wanted it to be over. I would not be hurting so much… I didn’t understand why he suddenly cared about me now…
   I was taken to the hospital. I had to drink charcoal. And I hated it. Sometimes I wish I would have died. Maybe it would have relieved me of the pain I had to go through later on, but that is another story. The nurse gave me a look of utter disapproval. I was embarrassed. I was crazy. Every doctor that looked at my chart knew why I was there. Every single one of them mad me feel…….worthless. Their faces are burnt into my memory, like the spots in your vision if you stare at the sun too long. The expressions weren’t of compassion like doctors have in the movies. The looks were of disgust. I was disgusting. I surely felt it. I had charcoal on my face, and my hands. I was vomiting charcoal, pooping charcoal. I felt like I was being drowned in it. I had to drink a gallon to neutralize the toxins from the medications I took. It was demoralizing. I felt violated.
I was evaluated by the on site psychologist. I was to be admitted into a treatment center once again. Khys was full. I was horrified. At least Mollie would have been there to help me understand to explain why my life was worth living.  I was transported in the ambulance. I was strapped to the gurney for a 2 hour ride, with the medics staring at me like I was a monster. My parent went home. I was admitted to Dettmer mental hospital. I got there at around 2 am in the morning. At this point I was so tired I just went to sleep on whatever mattress they told me. I was in Dettmer for 3 1/2 weeks with a daily check-up, by yet another therapist. I was again diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and night terrors. I grew frustrated because I already knew that.
   The visits were less frequent due to the drive. My parents always ended the visits with: we love you and what to help you get better. They wanted to help me. Why would they allow the arguing and insults? It takes two people to tango, so it was not all my fault. But I was told I was the problem. It was ME who was causing the issues. I had to get better. It was like a goddamn pointing fingers game. I had to be the one who took responsibility for my actions…. (Take the blame) what about everyone else? I got yelled at for insults… did anyone else? I think not.
   
 :timeout:  :timeout:  :timeout:  :timeout: QUICK NOTE HERE:  I am the child. I am supposed to make mistakes. To get angry, and yell once in a while, but what about the adults? Do they get punished? No. they get a slap on the hand and a get out of jail free card. The children have to be the responsible ones. When did that role switch? Can anyone tell me, because I missed the memo.

Anyway back to my story…while at Dettmer I grew very distant. I didn’t speak much. All I wanted was an escape from hell. A get out of jail card, not a free one, but a get out of jail card. Sadly life isn’t like monopoly and no matter how many times I rolled to get out of prison I never got out.


Questions or comments you know where to go: kazzie2008@hotmail.com
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Offline Che Gookin

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #7 on: April 12, 2009, 10:06:19 PM »
You are moving out of your parent's house soon right?
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Offline katiesthoughts

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #8 on: April 16, 2009, 05:00:12 PM »
Ok. I am dearly sorry to all of those who were reading my story. It had been a few days since the last instalment and I have been extremely busy. So to make up for some of the days I missed I will try to write more than usual.

So we left off when I was admitted to Dettmer. While I was there I learned a lot about holding back my emotions and my actual thoughts I became an expert craftsman of bullshit and I actually prolonged my stay there, due to lack of communication. The facility was locked down of course, but there was still the thought of scaling the walls and running away forever. My reasoning was that if never went home I would never be depressed, if I was never depressed I wouldn’t end up trying to kill myself and my parents would be happy and things would go greatly. Like a clip out of “Leave it To Beaver”. Everyone has there own dreams and fantasies. Mine was irrevocably wrong.
I was discharged and I went home again. This time I tried to make things different. I became more and more distant, only speaking when I couldn’t handle the silence anymore. At one point I didn’t talk to anyone. I would hide and when provoked I would yell.  That was life for me. I was barely home and when I was I wasn’t a happy camper.
 It seemed to me that when I wasn’t home my family was somehow better, and when I was home I got a reality check of how screwed up my family really was. It was scary for a while. You know how you eat too much ice-cream and it starts to taste real bad? Then a few months later you have some and miraculously it tastes good again? Well, that’s how I felt. When I wasn’t around them I missed them. When I was around I saw how crappy life was.
   Dettmer stayed with me. I learned to keep my emotions in check…. most of the time anyway (but when put under a lot of pressure eventually a carbonated soda pops right? Yeah. Me = carbonated soda; pressure = KABOOM!) I had to stop cutting, because my parent would check my arms. I had to check in with them every hour to make sure I wasn’t with Christy. NOT by phone of course. I would have to physically check in at the house.
But, even with a stricter structure for me things at school were declining even more rapidly than before. Diane and I would have hour long screaming matches, and I was a wreck. I was pushed down the stairs one day at school. I strained my wrist, and I had to have a cast out on it. I was so hurt and frustrated. I felt like the biggest loser in the world.
 A few days later, my Dad had to pick me up from school for some reason. I fell down the stairs again and this time I was knocked unconscious for 4 minutes. I guess my dad was freaking out trying to wake me up, and screaming for someone to call 911. I was put in an ambulance and taken to the hospital. I woke up while in the ambulance very confused. My dad was following in his car so I was alone. The paramedics had oxygen on my face and I was crying. They calmed me down saying I was going to be alright. I knew I wouldn’t be. I kept thinking to myself, after all of this why can’t I die? Is there some twisted god up there letting me suffer?
   After that my classes were unbearable. Due to lack of sleep I would doze off in math class and my teacher would let other students drop books on my desk to scare me awake. I would hang out with my English teacher everyday during lunch. He was the best teacher I ever had. I was a poet then… he would read everything I wrote. We would talk about the trivialities of everything and whenever I was in his classroom I felt right with the world. Like there was something that was worth living for. I think back now, and he was one person who really made me think twice about wanting to give up on life. During all of my different hospitalizations my biological mother and I had been talking over the phone. That December I went to visit for Christmas. It was a reprieve form the hell I was in. Yeah there were problems but god, it was better than home. Seeing her was such a relief for me. In her arms was the most adorable and angelic thing I had ever seen. Nicholas. (After my parents divorced my mom had 3 more children. 3 little boys. I knew Bryan and Benjamin.) My mom had part time custody of Bryan and Benji so they werent there. Seeing Nicki was like seeing a part of heaven in a body of the cutest little boy. Nicholas was born 3 months premature. He was so small at birth he could have fit in the palm on my hand. He was born 76% deaf. He was truly a miracle. He also had an auto-immune disease called lupus. This disease causes his body to produce antibodies that attack his own cells. His internal organs are affected and they harden at an abnormal rate.
   Learning this I became devoted to him. He was the cutest little ladies man. Leaving my mom and Nicholas at the end of those two weeks was hell for me. I didn’t know when I would ever see them again.

   Getting back to school…………I began to skip classes and hang out in the office. Faking sick was getting really old. Finally the counsellors had enough. The called my parents saying that I had two choices really. I could stick out the rest of the year IN class and not skipping or I could stay home for the rest of the year. At this point there was like 6 days left of 8th grade.
   I got home from school and Diane was yelling at me saying I would never amount to anything, I was a fucking drop out I would end up pregnant on the streets etc. etc. I was angry and all I wanted was to get away from her, from my dad, from my brothers. I needed an escape. I called my mom and told her what was going on. She immediately told my dad that I was going to spend the summer with her. I flew out to New Mexico that Saturday.

Those first few weeks were like paradise. I was wanted in the house. i was needed. I was a part of the fmaily again. But as it has hapened before it was too good to last. I didnt have many friends there and at first it was fine with me. But being 14 years old i got lonely. i began to search the aprtment complex for friends and i found them. A few were my age but mostly they were older. Tracy was my favorite. She was  24, and lived right next to us. i would be home during the day since my mom was at work, and my brothers were at day care so after i did my chores i went over to tracy's. I had quit smoking due to the restrictions for nicholas's health, but being with tracy had me starting up again. my mom didnt know i was hanging out with people older than me and when she found out she was uncomfortable. she didnt want me to go on the same path i was on at my dad's. Things startd to go bad after she found out about  me hanging out with tracy she grew really rptective. I found myslef doing more and more chores around the house. In some ways having a 5 and 6 year old around the house gets rid of loose energy in other ways it puts on a whole lot of mess! I was cleaning up after them all the time.
I grew more and more short with them not understanding why i was the one to clean up after them. when they were with their dad things were great the house was clean and me and my mom did fun things together. Even nicholas was happy. Dont get me wrong. I love my borthers and i miss them terribly but being 14 and having to clean the crap off of the tub and tiolet seat before I could stand to use them got really old! Me and my mom began to argue. I missed my dad and believe it or not i missed diane. I talked to them about once a week. And my mom was very difficult when i wanted to call them. She didnt understand why i wanted to talk to them after diane's comments all the time. July turned to august. I began to grow distant, and i was nervous all the time. i felt that i couldnt make any mistakes this time. I had to be perfect so that my mom and i could have a relationship. I didnt want to screw up this one too.



OK folks thats all i can handle right my mother and i havent talked or heard from each other in about 4 years and as you will read later things got worse. I am angry at her still due to impressions forced on me by CCM. I cant seem to erase those thoughts from my mind. Writing about her makes me miss her terribly and right now, i cant write any more it hurts too much.

P.S. If my mom is reading this... Stephanie Lynn Bilkey, if you are reading this i love you and i am sorry. please if you can call me or write to me. i miss you and i love you.
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Please email me with questions or comments : kazzie2008@hotmail.com
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »


Offline katiesthoughts

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #9 on: April 23, 2009, 07:37:30 AM »
look everyone i am dearly sorry that i havent written, i have been so busy with school! I am senior this year so there are alot of after school activities that hold me there unitl at least 10:00 pm , and then i have to do homework, take a 5 second shower and get inot bed to redo it all again the next day. However my involvement with our High school musical, "Anything Goes" is almost over, our show is finally being performed on friday, saturady and sunday this week, and after that i dont know what i'll be able to do with myself!

SO, back to the story, last i left off, i was at my mom's and things were going ok. Soon we moved out of are artment closer to some support system for my mom, and closer to my new high school. The move was really difficult for me. I was nervous about ym new school, and for the longest time i was afraid i would not find any friends at highschool. I was so nervous, because of the iussue at my last school. I was a loner there, and i was so nervous that i would end up being one there to. New mexico was very different from ohio. There was no humidity, and the heat was almost a bliss. I began to lose weight, not of my own doing, but of lack of food. My mom wasnt very well off, and often i gave up my dinner to feed my little brothers. i didnt mind however. I thought often, that a meal would go better with their stomachs not mine.

My mothers ex, the father of brian and benjamin, wqould have them druing the week most of the time, and when they were with us, me and my mother tried to make things fun for them, taking them swimming, watching movies at home. We really tried to make their lives less hectic after having to be switched from house to house every week.

It was the first house my mom  had ever had on her own. It wasnt a mansion and wasnt a slum, but to me it was perfect. My bedroom  was half of the living room, with a curtain seperating the two. i loved that room. School began, and i was wrong.

For me i was so nervous, but as i went to school that first day i was clearly mistaken about not finding frineds. they were evrywhere. I had friends up the wazoo! I felt that my life was going right for once. I was the mananger of the varsity volleyball team and often io spent my nights at practice then went home and cooked or hung out with my mom. My paradise wouldnt last however. i started to get inot the wrong group of friends.  I swear i think that i am a magnet for trouble, cause everywhere i go, i get into it.

My friends were the same sort of group as they were in ohio. In a way hanging out with them made me feel like i wasnt alone and that i wasnt the only one in the world with problems. Our idea of fun, was at lunch hour to goof off, running around our huge courtyard screaming  "The chickens are coming!" We would almost die laughing.

I became friends with a few girls who were bisexual. At that point i didnt see a problem with it, and i believed that i was as well. To be safe, i was cautious and never overstepped any boundaries, but i did have a so to speak "girlfriend". (Thinking now, i was exploring my sexuality anbd i was confiused, so i am GLAD i grew out of that...)

I began cutting agina. My mom had no clue, and i wasnt going to be the one to tell her about it either. It was shallow and small but still it was my addicttion. my friends would try to get me to stop and to see that my life was worth moree that trying to hurt myself. It was strange, In Ohio, with christy they saw cutting as a relief and they supported me in it. Here they saw it as a plea for help, and they diagreed with me, trying to get me to stop. I felt horrible. i would cut in places to hide it. Not only was i hiding from my mom, but now i had to hide it from my freinds.

I did well for about 4 months at school. good grades, and everything. I was a good student and i loved my classes, (EXCEPT MATH, I STILL CANT STAND IT) :beat:

My mom became involved with a church for the beginning of my stay with her. we didnt talk about it ever, so i didnt really wonder. one day on our way home picking up Nicholas from daycare, she stopped by the building. I read the sign. "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints". I was 15. I had no clue what this was. I gave my mom a questioning glance and she said, "I'm A mormon." It took a moment to register. Polygomy, cult craziness. "NOT MORMON!" I was astonished. :jawdrop:

She gave me an ultimatum. I could ive with her and follow her beliefs, and her rules or i could go back to ohio. Of course I picked what anyone would pick, after living with Stepmonster. I started going to church with her. I began to conform. I was babtized. I didnt follow it. asfter all it was just a title. I didnt believe the ajrgain, but i wanted to make my mom happy. I was a master pretender, so this was just another role.

school bacame hectic for me. i broke up with my girlfriend. I tried to not to cut myself. I tired over and over. But as you will read later.... trying is never enough.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »


Offline katiesthoughts

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #10 on: April 30, 2009, 08:31:56 PM »
Ok. Sorry for the irregularity of my posts. As I said before I have been busy but in the end it is just a matter of making time right?

Alright my ultimatum and my efforts to be a perfect kid. Well an attempt is an attempt. Let’s just say it’s safe to say that nobody can be perfect. I am a perfect example of that fact. And in that that is as close as I can get to being perfect, is being a perfect example... My mom and I were having issues wit her rules. On a few occasions she would call over our landlord to be a mediator. I was given a set of chores to help her out (even though I was doing everything else anyway) I began to feel like I was back in my dad's home. I grew shorter and shorter. There was an instance where I chose to go to practice and not do my homework. I got home, and my room was basically stripped of everything I owned. I had nothing but a bare mattress on my bed with sheets. I was so angry. My knickknacks that my dad had sent me form home were missing. My blanket I had from since I was little. I was missing my teddy bears; everything I cherished was gone. My mom was sitting on the bed with my math. She calmly explained that once my homework was done I could have my things back. I almost went into a rage. I was close enough to freak out on her, but Nicholas began crying. I calmly said ok, and went to get my baby brother. I don’t know what it was about hearing him cry, but I knew that my anger would somehow hurt him. I picked him up out of his play pin, grabbed my math book from my mom, and did the homework, Nicky sitting on my lap the whole time. Nicholas had a wonderful calming essence about him. He sat there looking at me, and every so often I would tickle him to hear his laugh. His little fingers were wrapped up in my hair, and he was the most wonderful creation ever made in my eyes. (Break here: I never could understand why his father had let my mother, when she was pregnant. How could anyone leave that beautiful perfect bundle of joy and love? Then I realize the same thing happened to me when my mom left. She left me, just like Nicky’s dad left her. I wasn’t perfect and I wasn’t cute at that point but didn’t I bring any joy to her life anymore/ was I not her beloved daughter? :cry:  ??? )

Back to the story. I finished homework and  put Nicky to bed. I cleaned up and slept on the couch. I went to school the next day. I came home. Most of my things were back...  my blanket was still gone, my knickknacks too. Everything else was back. I confronted my mom. She told me that the blanket was being washed. Then she dropped the bomb. She explained she was short of money. She explained that Nicholas needed medicine. She had sold my knickknacks to get money to pay for his prescriptions. It didn’t sink in. I was upset yes, but Nicholas was more important to me.

Things seemed to lighten up around the house as  long as I could run to Nicky and be around him. I tried to be the better daughter. All the while I felt support from church. I felt like my life was as bad as I made it out to be. I found surrogate fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters. Ones who treated me like I was worth millions upon  millions of dollars. My mom began to not go, and if she didn’t go, neither could I. I begged for her to take me at some times. I wanted to feel like I was normal, I wanted to feel happy. It seemed in those walls nothing bad could happen.

My mom stopped going together. I couldn’t go either. I was hurt, and as usual I tried other ways to cope. I began reading and escaping into books when I could. I felt as if I were apart of the world the author had spun onto those glorious pages. I felt like nothing could come into my life as long as I was somewhere else. Books... god, I think this is the point where I first began my dream of being an author. In books. I would laugh along with the characters, cry with them,  I felt so safe and secure. I began to wish I could just float into a book and stay there.
Stress was piling up. My mm and I were unable to get along even if I had Nicky. Finally I gave up on myself. I cut myself.  The cuts were deep. I walked into living room, my faced stained with tears, and blood on my hands from where i  had tried to wipe it away. Nicholas was asleep, thank god. (I don’t know how I could handle it if he would had saw me. he was only 2 years old, but I couldn’t bear it if the only thing he remembers about me is that I wanted to die. he fought so hard for his life, and here I was throwing away mine)
My mom began to cry and called my grandma. She explained what I was doing. My grandma wanted to talk to me. I answered the phone. She told me how hurting I was hurting her and the family. She explained there were other things I could do to help me, she explained so many things as I listened silently. Then she asked me, "do you need my help sweetie, I’ll do anything!" In my anger and frustration I told her " NO. I DONT NEED HELP. I DONT WANT YOUR HELP!" I hung up the phone. Little did I know that was the last time I would ever talk to her. The last words I said to my grandma were ones of hatred and anger. ( I still hold so many regrets for that. I miss her terribly, what did she think of me when she died? That I didn’t love her?)

Thanks everyone. I will write more tomorrow. Its hard to talk about my grandma. I miss her so much.
:waaaa:  :cry:  :'(
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »


Offline FemanonFatal2.0

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #11 on: April 30, 2009, 10:44:23 PM »
She sold your things? I don't know if I should be surprised or not. Either way that is no way for a parent to treat a child.

so was your mom kinda crazy?
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »
[size=150]When Injustice Becomes Law
...Rebellion Becomes Duty...[/size]




[size=150]WHEN THE RAPTURE COMES
CAN I HAVE YOUR FLAT SCREEN?[/size]

Offline katiesthoughts

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #12 on: May 01, 2009, 10:55:42 PM »
yes my mother is crazy. she cant handle having children. she has 7 and it seems in my opinion that as soon as they are old enough to take care of themselves she leaves them and has more becuase she has the need to be needed. she left me, my brothers jon erik and matt, and i am pretty sure she left bryan and bejamin with thier dad. nicholas (backround is in blog) has no one else and his conditions require someone to hep him most of the time, so my mom wont leave him because he fullfills her need. My thought is that with his condition he could die at any moment any day. he could already have died, (i wouldt know i havent heard from my mother in over 4 years) but what will she do when nicky doesnt need mommy dearest anymore, or whn nicky passes away? my mom is so young any more. i dont thin she is able to have kids either. what will she do then?
:'( ???  :waaaa:
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »


Offline FemanonFatal2.0

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #13 on: May 02, 2009, 12:21:49 AM »
Wow that's really sad, and whats even more so is that you really have no one to lean on for the real family love that you need.

Maybe someday you may be able to reconnect with your mother even if it is just to get closure but at this point I believe it is best for you to keep that kind of drama out of your life. If only you had the same choice regarding your step mother huh?... lol.

When you were younger you needed your parents, their love and guidance and it pains me to see that both of your mother figures treated you like this, I can only assume that contributed greatly to the depression problems that drove you to cut. When were growing up we don't see very clearly the cause and effect of our actions and the actions of others and how they make us who we are, I guess hindsight is 20-20. The best we can do is believe in ourselves and try not to take other peoples problems personally. You mother may be crazy, and your step mom may be abusive but that has NOTHING to do with you, those are THEIR problems. Someday you may forgive them for the hurt they caused in your life and I truly hope you will but before you will ever be able to move on with your own life you will have to learn to separate your emotions from theirs, your actions from theirs and your identity from theirs. You have to be comfortable and happy being you whether they approve of you or not, that way when they act that way you don't have to take it to heart and let it hurt you.

I learned a long time ago that whatever issues my parents had, they had way before I ever came along and I don't have to blame myself for that. I hope you can learn that too, and despite if they support your dreams or treat you with the respect you deserve you are still worthy of the life you want to live.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »
[size=150]When Injustice Becomes Law
...Rebellion Becomes Duty...[/size]




[size=150]WHEN THE RAPTURE COMES
CAN I HAVE YOUR FLAT SCREEN?[/size]

Offline maruska

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Re: Katie's Story
« Reply #14 on: May 12, 2009, 09:33:11 AM »
Hi Katie!
Long time not heard from you, hope you are OK.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »