Long Story Short 

I was just a toddler when I looked into the mirror and cried because my parents and the kids at school made me think I was ugly. I would stare into my eyes and then at my freckles wishing I could be beautiful. Wishing I could be something to anyone. My dad loved me but always had a problem with something about my appearance. My step father would beat me just for the simple fact that I was ugly. My mother would walk away from me if I asked for any sort of love. To them I was always a problem always something to be upset over. 
When I was a preteen my step father caught my mother cheating on him and went after her with a gun. I held my younger sister close as I heard him angrily go threw the camp trailer we were sleeping in, looking for a gun. As he left, slamming the door and leaving in his truck, I comforted my baby sister and told her to go back to sleep. I was scared and wondering where her father was. We were awoken to my mother freaking out and gathering us up a few hours later, to tell my sister cruelly that her life was going to change dramatically. 
I was a teenager when I started dating the love of my life. We supported each other and searched as hard as we could for answers to our terrible childhoods and our problematic life’s. I was kicked out of my moms house because I wouldn’t stop seeing him and lost everything. I moved in with my crazy religious father and sought help for everything my love and I were going threw. 
I was a young adult when my ptsd hit me hard and I unfortunately hurt my love. My flashbacks caused me to be abusive and mean. I didn’t understand what I was doing and couldn’t help it. I found help and started getting better. 
I was an adult when the worst day of my life happened. My husband told me he needed time away from me and left me bawling on the kitchen floor. A year later we started separating and trying to work threw the pain. I couldn’t handle being two towns away from him so we mutually agreed to consider ourself single. My terrible coping skills landed me in the hands of the wrong person and to get rid of the pain and grieving I turned to drugs. My husband wanted me back but it was too late, the damage had been done. 
Now I am drug free, not divorced, in therapy, and working on things with my husband at my crazy religious fathers house. I’ve lived a terrible life and I’ve done terrible things. I just want to get better and be better no matter what happens next. I’m a strong person and I’m done hurting myself and the ones I love around me. 


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