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Katies Story

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Oscar:
So far so good.

1) If you want to mess your kids up, then use them as weapons after a divorce. Let them be the rocket you deliver your verbal bomb load with. How is the rocket doing when it arrrives at its target? Oh. It explodes!

2) If you want to destroy a household, then invite a new partner in your home and let this person become the disciplinarian. The birthparent has to set the rules or change them if the step-parents want changes. The birthparent does also have to enforce them. The child has not chosen the step-parent. The step-parent has chosen to engage in a relationship where there are children. A male lion kills the kittens not produced by himself once he takes over a lion family. That option is fortunately not one a human can choose but then they have the option of WWASP. Somehow the step-parent shows that the difference from being an animal to being a human which involves a whole lot of empati is deselected.

3) If you want to increase the risk of your kids being involved with alcohol or drugs, create the basis for the child to find a group of peers which seems to care outside the family. The cutting is not a problem it is a symptom that the child need a dumping place for all the thoughts any human gathers during time. Once a person starts to cut this person feel releaved for the problems and are ready to take on new challenges. In a divorce the children often picks up small pieces of guilt due to the shattered relationship between the parents and put them in their emontional backpack. That backpack becomes heavy to carry and then the cutting starts. If I found my child cutting I will know that she needs another adult to speak about her problems with before she starts talking to the dealer. You have to remember that the dealer is a businessman. Of course he will listen to his customers and let them cry out by his shoulder if he cares for his business.

You are making a good start.

FemanonFatal2.0:
Thank you for sharing that, and I want you to know that I can really relate. I had a super strict step mom as well who was deathly afraid I would turn out like her loser drug addict brother. I know you didn't mention too much about the tension in the home, but I remember it well and understand how hard on you that must have been.

I hope you know that your story most definitely is worth telling, and I know that its hard to go back and access all these buried feelings but I hope you know that you are not only helping yourself heal, but you could very well help others to do the same. I hope you know that you were not a bad kid, and you didn't deserve to get sent away. It seems like you struggle with depression and you shouldn't carry any blame for that, you were born with it. As sad as it is, some of us just get dealt a shittier hand then the rest of the players in this game, and all you can do is work with what you've got. Your parents had the responsibility to help you through the hard times and give you the love you needed to grow up feeling worthy. The fact that your step mom felt it appropriate to judge, chastise and punish you all the time for normal teenage behavior is clearly an issue of bad parenting skills, and considering she isn't your parent makes it that much more inappropriate. I read some of the things she said about you, she wasn't worried about you as much as she resented you and judged every little thing you did. Do you know how happy most parents would be if their kid was just smoking cigarettes as a teen? I can understand parental concern, but I don't think she handled it correctly and in my opinion made your depression (not to mention the family relationship) much worse with all the confrontation and blame games. Do you feel as if she may have turned your family against you?... because that's what it seems like to me, and I also think her mind games have effected your self esteem.

At some point I would recommend mentally separating your feelings from anything she ever said or did to you. I personally do this by reminding myself that the problems with my step mother stemmed from her issues, not mine. Not that I didn't have any problems, but I believe those are better handled with someone who loves me unconditionally. Basically, if she doesn't truly want to help me or she tends to go crazy then my problems are none of her business. My relationship with my dad and step-mom now is fine, as rocky as it was when I was a teen we have put all that behind us because they choose not to get involved in my problems. That doesn't mean I lie to them or don't ask for help if I need it, it means they simply realize their days of being "the punisher" are over and I am the one who builds my own moral compass. Oddly enough, I think I have done a much better job then they ever could, maybe they realize that, and someday your parents will too.

Che Gookin:
Actually if you get anywhere near Izzabelle can you do me a favor? Tell her Che Gook says, "Izzy you are still a fat tub of lard who still needs to get herself a pair of concrete boots."

That's all..

Best of luck for you and relax as fear is normal in any transition. Just chill out and think about the upside of have your own crib. All those boys you have missed out on can come over without your parents prying and interfering.

Anonymous:
Katie is a sweet , beautiful, talented girl.
Just sayin' :karma:

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

i'll be back tomorrow

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