A little story.
My story starts from when I was 4 years old. First time I've ever been touched by a boy. He was 3 years older than me. No, it wasn't just a one time thing. Everytime this boy would come over with his parents, he would touch me. Even if I said no.
This happened for at least 3 years. After they stopped coming over I thought I was free and safe from him.
I was safe from him, but not what was going to come.
When I was 8 years old, I was raped 3 times, by my big brothers best friend. My brother was in the room the first time and didn't say anything.
When I turned 11, my brothers would black mail me and force me to do things with them. They would get angry if I said no and start telling our parents things that I have and haven't done. They would break my stuff and torment me until I said yes. I only allowed it to happen twice and I still find myself getting disgusted by the horrible things EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM MADE ME DO.
When I was 15, I was diagnosed with PCOS. The Dr told me I had 27 cysts on my ovaries and more than likely I wasn't going to be able to have children. I was already depressed and that just made me act out of character more.
At 15, I started smoking weed as an outlet because none of the 50 Drs I went to would actually help me. I dropped out of school my junior year and homeschooled myself.
By that time I was 17 and I was the only one to sit with my aunt while she was slowly dying. She lived for 8 weeks and that was the hardest thing I've ever had to endure. On top of that, I was the asshole teenager that was stealing her medicine and selling it just to get more weed.
She passed away February 26th 2015. My depression set in more fierce. To the point that I was terrified of being alone because of the things I could and would do just to hurt myself. July rolls on in and that's when met my husband.
When my husband and I got together, I knew nothing about meth. But sadly, he was the one who introduced it to me. Told me it was molly the very first time I did it. That devil drugged me through the dirt and then some. My second suicidal attempt was because I was on that stuff. I held a loaded .22 long rifle to my head and begged and pleded to our Lord to help me. Begging him to just endy suffering. I had enough abuse and heartache for one life time. But got up from the forest floor and continued on living. Just making it.
Well here we are 7 years and 2 kids later. I'm now a full on addict to meth. And I just relapsed 4 months ago. I was 8 months sober and my husband and I just got back together after a bad falling out we had last year. I know I won't be able to stay sober as long as in with him, and it breaks my heart.
But in the past 7 years, he has lied to me, abused me mentally physically and emotionally. He's a narssasist and damn pro minipulator. Everytime I think he's changing, he shows me the truth. Last week he hit me with shoes and he slapped me upside my head, all because I needed 5 minutes after waking up so I could brush my hair.