When I was three, my parents divorced and I left with my mom. We had no money and no place to live. We moved from one friend’s house to another. I stayed at home with them while she went out and worked, along with looking for extra work. So much so, that I don’t even remember seeing my mom at all when I was little, I only remember spending time with her friends. After about a year we finally moved into an apartment, where we had to share a room. I remember that it was so small that we had to share a bed. After about another year she got remarried to a man who is still my stepfather today. But my parents’ fighting never stopped.

Now, this is not a sob story. I don’t want your pity, and I’m sure you won’t give it to me. That’s only the beginning of my story.

Twelve years later, after a long, hard, terrible struggle… things are different. Today I am a sophomore at Bloomingdale High School, with pretty good grades. My father is out of the picture for the most part. I have two parents who take care of me. and two little brothers and a little sister.

That’s not to say that I am without struggles, though. I have a never ending list of problems. But that’s okay. I’m in the process of getting help, the doctor has me on medication, and I’m working through everything. And regardless of how my life is at the moment, I have faith in God and I know that it can only go up from here. 

This is not the end. It’s only a new beginning. And I will make it far in this crazy, messed up world.

Since the last time I wrote in this, a lot has changed, and i feel that there is more to who I am that those of you who care should know. 

I have moved out of my mother’s house to live with my father. As time went on, I began to realize that there was a wall of lies surrounding me, and I didn’t know the truth. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I began to question myself and everyone else. I realized that I was being morphed into the child that my mother and stepfather wanted, and was not being true to myself. When I tried to change that, they no longer cared for me. They treated me like crap, and I couldn’t taker it anymore.

Not long after, I started to question what I knew about my father. On his birthday, I called him and we spent an evening together. we saw each other a couple times, and one night I got really upset by what my mother had said to me in a phone call. I broke down and spilled EVERYTHING to my dad. He said something to me that changed my life. He told me that I could come live with him whenever I wanted to.

A couple of brutal days at home later, my mother confronted me and told me how much of a disappointment I was and threatened to send me away. So I told her, Fine, just send me to my dad’s. Maybe I want to live with him.” She walked away thinking I was just trying to make her mad.

When she started to constantly tear me down, I told her I was serious about living with my dad. Two days later she kicked me out, and I moved into my dad’s.

On this day I am no longer suffering from an eating disorder, though it still does haunt me, I am off of my medication, and I’m happy. I have learned a lot about my dad, and myself. I am aware of who I truly am, I embrace it, and am comfortable in my own body.

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