Iíll warn you before you go further away, I talk about abuse, physical, mental and sexual abuse. Also about self hurt, and attempt of suicide.
I was born in France 23 years ago and eight months after my birth, things started to get difficult for me. Ever since then Iíve only experienced abuse and abandons from friends or family.
My father left my mother for another woman when I was a baby. Although I was young by then, only seeing him every two weeks and half the school holidays was not that easy. This happens to a lot of kids, and I was not that affected by it until later.
My mom started a new life with another man, my sisterís father. When I was three she was born. But her father acted as if I was not there, and when he decided to give me some attention it was only to punish me. With plushies thrown at my face or cold showers, having to sit down on a broom, hands being my head.
This was my first experience with abuse and it lasted for three years. Then my mom asked for a divorce and we happily lived together, just the three of us.
But this happiness did not last long.
She then met the man who are still haunting our worst nightmares. At first he was nice, he offered us gifts, was smiling and acting as a father figure but when we started to live with him things changed.
Abuse again, worse this time.
But all kind of abuse.
We were all beaten, my mom, my sister and me. He broke our self esteem with horrible words, marked us, scared us for life. I still remember some moments vividly. A night as my sister and I were being too loud, he grabbed her and punched her in the nose. I did all I could to get out of his grasp on my bunk bed and escaped. But when I got down to check on my little sister, blood was everywhere on her face, pillow and pajamas. I had to sneak out of the room to grab a towel and do what I could to stop the blood flow. I was around seven.
In 2004 my mom announced us that we were going to have a little brother. But the abuse did not stop, he kept beating her, breaking her. I have two images in my head, him pushing her on the ironing board and falling. And her sleeping on the ground of the corridor because he had locked their bedroom for letting me stay at home a school day when I was sick with the flu.
My little brother did not survive, abruptio placentae, he died eight hours after his birth. His name was Theodore and I still believe today that his own father killed him.
A year after I said enough. I took my 7 years old sister by the hand and ran away. A nice woman picked us up and called my dad who took us to the police. But instead of protecting us, they brought us back home.
My dad decided to take action, he scheduled an appointment at a child psychiatrist who wrote a letter to the police and said that ďI should not go back home.Ē
The weekend after my mom left our step father with my sister while being pregnant with another baby.
He never got judged and is still free.
After that my dad took me in. I was starting to be a child again, slowly learning to be happy and not scared that if I said something wrong I would get hit.
But he was too overprotective and never let me see my mom. Only for Christmas, when my little brother Louison was born and three months after. When I had to take the hardest decision of my life. When I asked him if we could do as before, me living at my motherís place and seeing him every two week and half holidays he made me choose between them.
I chose my mom.
Maybe it was not the best decision since he abandoned me afterwards.
But then a man came into our life again. AndÖ He was nice, the best father figure you could dream of. He was protective, helped us get better, supported us when my mom started his bipolar episodes and watched us grow up for ten years. My little brother even saw him as a dad, so did I.
But then he changedÖ Last year in february he started to get touchy.
Everyday when we were alone he touched me, under my clothes. At first it was nothing, just a caress in the back I didnít realize what was happening. But the months passed and after my back came my butt, then my stomach, then my breasts. One night he cornered me and hugged me close, way too close. I still feel his hands on my body, his lips on my neck. I managed to break free and cried myself to sleep this night.
I started telling my mom about it on March, she only kicked him out on June. I went to the police but the case ended up being abandoned, just like many other victims like me.
Now, we all live in what I would call a terrible apartment. It is extremely messy due to my mother completely giving up.
And none of us is okay.
My indebt, bipolar and depressive mom, whoís only getting worse and worse as time pass seems to have given up. I have to do everything while she just sits on her chair all day, just watching the tv.
My nineteen year old sister refuses to get help for her mental problems, instead she decided to leave home and will move next week. She refuses to help me in anything, refuses to get a job, refuses to help around the house.
My eleven years old little brother barely has enough clothes, and now refuses to go to school because heís scared of leaving the house. Weíll have to homeschool him, and Iím the one working one the papers, calling the doctors, psychiatrist and school inspector that he has to see so we can homeschool him for free.
But I have a severe Depression and social anxiety that prevents me from keeping working, I am on sick leave for eight months and will keep being on sick leave until I manage to get outside.
And Iím starting to give up. I feel like Iím stuck in this situation where Iím the one who everyone counts on. My grandmother and uncle started to drink again, badly drink which adds even more anxiety to my life.
I thought about killing myself many times, tried once and even grabbed scissors to cut my thighs.
Now Iím resisting these thoughts the best I can, but Iím the only one in my family who wants to get better. Iím the only one in my family who does everything for all of us to get better.
I take care of my brother but I canít force my mom. She doesnít cook, doesnít tidy the house, nor does the dishes. She has never even called the surgeon she has to see to get a hip prosthesis, only sees her psychiatrist once every three months. She gave up and I tried everything to help her get better.
And because of my sick leave, my financial situation is getting really bad. Iím always under the line, always owing money to the bank and yet I still have to help my family. I only have 400Ä every months, and my bank only accept me to go to -200Ä.
My mom has really bad debts due to her bipolarity, she had moments where everything was fine but she could not realize that what she was doing was not fine. She threw money out the window and now just has enough to pay some bills some of the food.
We barely have enough money to eat and buy what my brother needs. Because with these 400Ä, I have to pay for my credits that I subscribed for university and driving lessons, that I had to both give up to take care of my family; I have to pay for internet, for the tv, some food, the cats, phone plans for my siblings and I always get under -200Ä every month, which gives me even less money to live with.
Yet Iím trying to get better, Iím trying to make my family better but according to my therapist who I donít see enough because of the money, I have to get out if I want to fight my depression, anxiety and social phobia.
I need to start getting selfish and even if it years my heart I understand why. If I stay, I will become worse and worse. I need a stable environment and goals to achieve which I have but lack of money to do so.
I love my family but I want and need to move out, I need it for my own sanity. I canít sleep at night even with my medication because all those problems are always in my head and my anxiety wonít leave me alone about it.
I want to go back to university and move to Canada to get closer to the person who helps me the best recently. Who helps me feel loved, safe and with who I can be myself and forget everything for a short amount of time.
But before being able to achieve that, I need to focus on myself and heal. But I barely have enough money to pay my therapist that costs me 46Ä every time. I want to start a cognitive therapy to learn to control my anxiety and live with it, to be able to go outside again and leave my room.
My dream would be to open a bakery with a cafť in Canada, make pastries and beverages for everyone. And when Iím better, start being a listener for free to people who need help like me. Bring a smile to peopleís face like I always try to do even if I have trouble keeping one on.
Please help me change my life, help me get a brighter future.
I need tips, advice and ways to find money. I started a gofundme (https://www.gofundme.com/kgab4y-help-me-get-out) page but it doesn't seem to work. And I have no idea where to find that money since I cannot go back to work.
Thank you to whoever might have read this until the end, and to whoever might answer with some helpful words, maybe shared experience and advice.
If youíre in my situation, or one I used to be in, reach for help. There are help lines you can call, people who would be gladly ready to help and bring you solutions. In some countries you also have crisis text lines if calling is too hard for you.