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All my life I’ve grown up abused by the ones I thought I loved. When I was very young my parents separated. At age 9 my dad got visitation rights on the weekends. His visitations didn’t last long as he ended up breaking them by going away for work and missing a few weekends. Even when my dad lived with us it was still such an nonsupporting family. I remember being a child and being hit or criticized by the smallest little things. At age 9 my mother was dating the manager at her work. When I was 12 he got relocated from California to Pennsylvania and we went along with him. He was a kind and fair man I really did like him. But when we moved is when things took a turn for the worst. Growing up my mother always seemed to hate me. She always treated my older sister and younger brother better. When we moved her hatred for me seemed to be on fire. From a very young age I was very smart. When I was in pre-school the teachers advised my parents to let me skip kindergarten and go straight to first grade. Obviously, my mother declined. When first grade came along my mother was again advised to let me skip a grade. And again she declined. My sister failed the 3rd grade and was held back. Up until 7th grade I was a straight A student. I played 2 instruments and was in the honors program. My sister on the other hand had such a hard passing her classes. From a very young age I could completely zone out and somehow still retain everything the teachers had said. I wouldn’t exactly remember what my teachers would say but oddly enough I somehow understood everything. Like I was saying, when we moved things took a turn for the worst. It started off with me just getting into more trouble at home. Just becoming more forgetful and end up not doing what I was told. I was still heavily criticized and hit for every little thing. To cope I started self harming. 8th grade was a huge turning point in my life. I had hit rock bottom. I got in trouble at home, at school, and with the police. Anytime I would say anything I would be instantly shut down by everyone in the family. I cried myself to sleep every night. But it wasn’t a normal crying. It felt like someone was tearing my heart out. It took me hours to get to sleep. The only way to calm myself down was to self harm. Everyday when I came home from school I had to do it. It was like a medication for me. It’s not like I would do one or two tiny little cuts. I would take apart razors and violently cut my arm until it was completely covered. I would do it again when I couldn’t go to sleep. I always ended up sleeping around 4am but only to wake up at 5am to get ready for the bus. School wise I was doing somewhat ok. I was an A & B student. I wasn’t able to completely zone out and retain everything like I use to but I could do it every now and then. In the middle of 8th grade we moved from our apartment into a house. Things got even worse. By 9th grade I had gottin introuble with the police again. I found a phone in the bathroom and I took it. The first time I ran into the law I just bought a stolen ipod so they didn’t do anything to me. But this time around I had to do community service. Since technically this was my first real trouble with the law I got one of those free passes. Community service, 3 seperate letters apologizing to the police department, to my mom and to the girl who’s phone I tool was all I had to do. Funny thing I knew the girl who’s phone it was. When I realized she had forgot it in the bathroom I took it and ran outside yelling her name. She didn’t answer so I decided to keep it. Well, this little stint got me grounded for 7 months. I understand what I did was wrong but 7 months? I was never told specifically that it was 7 months but every time I kept asking to hang out with friends I was told no. The friend that I always hang out with lived 5 houses down from me. I went crazy locked up in side. They couldn’t let me out for at least an hour? I was literally right next door. Eventually I said f*** it. One day after school I walked home with my friend, her older brother and another friend of his. Mind you we lived very far away from the school. It was at least a 2 hour walk. It was also winter & everything was covered in snow. We decided to take a detour to McDonalds because hey we’re high schoolers. On our way home from McDonalds my mom’s boyfriend (step dad) found us walking in the snow. Damn he was pissed. Funny how this all got me ungrounded. All i had to do from that point on is ask them to go out witch most of the time I was allowed. Anyways, all of 9th grade I became for defiant. I failed almost every single class. I couldn’t considerate even if I tried. I skipped school, I talked back to teachers, got kicked out of classes, and eventually my parents would say no to me going out so I stopped asking. I would just go as I pleased and just tell them where I was. Haha they’d always yell at me on the phone and I just would hang up every time. I know what your thinking at this point. “Little brat, pull yourself together and listen to you parents.” But it’s not like I did this without a price to pay. At this point in my life I just said f*** it to everything. Every time I would go out, skip class, or do anything bad I was in for a beating. I just didn’t care anymore. My parents took the door off my room, I wasn’t allowed to use the computer anymore; I had a radio that was the only thing that kept me sane, for the most part, and that too was taken away. I mean troubles at home where only one of my worries. School was just as bad. My sister talked crap on me to everyone. She would tell everyone that everyone in my family hated me. Which was true but every time someone came up to me and asked, “Hey, is it true your entire family hates you?” a little piece of me died. She also had some of her friends call me troll when they would see me. I figured out where they hanged out the most during the day and I would desperately avoid them at all costs. My friends thought I was insane when I would randomly disappear. But even the “friends” I had were no real friends. I was all by myself. I would skip lunch and sneak into the dark auditorium and just sit there and cry every single day. I stopped eating the with “family” and around midnight when everybody would be asleep I would go down to the kitchen and binge eat. Even though I didn’t eat anything during the day I gained wait from binge eating at night. I was usually about 97-104lbs but I ended up being about 110-115lbs. Which I guess isn’t much but it definitely destroyed me inside. As I got worse and worse my punishments got worse and worse. For punishments I was sometimes kicked out of my room and down into the living room. Which honestly wasn’t that bad since the TV and kitchen was down there. One day I was washing my clothes. I have to laundry baskets and one of my loads was in the wash. My younger brother thought it was a smart idea to put baby chick that we had at the time in there. There was s*** all over the basket and I was kinda mad but I just let it go. When my last load of laundry was done I went down to go get it to find my clothes in the basket with bird s***. In my clean laundry was my mother’s clothes. I went right up stairs opened her door and asked who’s put my laundry there. She acted stupid as if she didn’t know. IT WAS HER DAMN CLOTHES. SHE KNEW THERE WAS BIRD S*** IN THE BASKET SO SHE DELIBERATELY TOOK MY CLEAN CLOTHES AND DUMPED THEM IN THERE SO SHE COULD USE MY CLEAN BASKET. I let it go and shut the door to go back down stair to start washing again. We live in an old house and to close her door you need a little bit of muscle and no matter how gently you close her bedroom door it’s as if you slammed it. I didn’t care about having to wash my clothes again. What’s done is done. But she thought I had slammed her door. She came chasing after me like a f****** animal. She beat me and yelled some stuff in spanish which I didn’t quite catch but what I understood was I had 2 choices take my mattress down stairs or go sleep outside in the chicken coop. I took my mattress and took it down stairs as I have done before. I turned on the Tv and presumed to watch. I misheard her and apparently she said go down to the basement not just down stairs. She got even crazier. dragged me by my hair down the stairs and beat me once more. My sister’s friend was over and they just laughed. They f****** laughed at me. I never new it was funny to laugh at someone in so much pain. My brother came down to the basement to play Foosball and I remember my little brother whispering “What’s wrong with her?” My stepdad said, “She’s just crazy.”From that point on I was no longer allowed to wash my clothes or take a shower. When everyone was out of the house I would shower and since washing in the machines would take too long I would take some clothes and wash them with me in the shower. By the way I had the same clothes from 8th grade all the way until 9th grade. I had a couple pairs of jeans and a few tops so it didn’t take me that long to do all my laundry in the shower. By the way I had severe anxiety and depression all through out 8th & 9th grade. I also tried telling a guidance counselor twice but no one did anything. When I was 14 1/2 I just stopped talking to everyone in the family. I ignored them all. Every time they asked me to do something or if they even tried to talk to me I would just look away and say nothing. Most of the time I would just pretend to sleep in my room. Not like I could actually sleep with all the s*** going on. At the end of the school year is when I had to break my silence when I took a friends prescribed inhaler and inhaled over a months worth of s*** in a minute. I did it because my friend and I share a gym locker and she would never let me use it. For 4 f****** days I felt like I was dying. My stomach was in knots and I couldn’t keep anything down. So I called my stepdad and told him to take me to the hospital. Everything was out of my system by that time but I was told I would have died if I had taken anymore. At age 15 I moved back to California with my Dad. I said not a word to anyone in my family. Except for my sister because she came along to visit. I had not seen or talked to my dad since I was 7 or 8. I barley remembered his face. It was the strangest thing. Living with my dad, his wife, his little girl and at the time a soon to be boy. For the first year I was there I was a mess. I couldn’t decide if i loved him or not. I had the worst anxiety ever imaginable it was constant all day. I had insomnia and PTSD. I didn’t go to a therapist but I knew what was wrong with me. I constantly remembered every little detail of my life with my mother. I had at least one panic attack every hour. And when it wasn’t a full on panic attack I felt constantly anxious. The few hours I did go to sleep every other day I would have horrible night mares. Reliving the life I once had. I would wake up drenched in sweat. I had to run to the bathroom many times a day because I had to cry. I didn’t have a room because at the time my Dad’s friends were living with them. My Dad was suspicious as to why all of a sudden I’m here at his doorstep. He kept asking me what happened over in Pennsylvania that made me want to move. Of course my mother would never tell him and neither would I. Everyone in my family always questions me. I just say I prefer California and that’s it. It’s been about 2 years since I’ve been here with my Dad and I hate it. Not as much with my mother but still not a place I’m happy. I started online school in 10th grade. I just couldn’t stand going to school. People really did like me and oddly enough I made friends with one of the most popular girls in school. But I just didn’t want to go anymore. I am now in 11th grade and I am awaiting June 14, 2015 when I turn 18 so I can leave. Here my Dad holds me back from so much. He doesn’t want me to get a job. He doesn’t want me to drive. I sit in my room all day doing nothing. I’m failing high school and there is no way for me to make up all the credits to graduate on time. I’m anorexic, suicidal, depressed and I’m completely alone in this world. Now, I didn’t quite come here to give you all a sob story but to confess. I bugged my dad for the longest time to get me a dog. I finally got one. I got him when he was 3 months old and he’s about 8 months now. for the past 4 months I have been abusing him. When I first got him I loved him. I wanted the absolute best for him and I still do. But about a month of having him I started tapping his nose to punish him when he did something wrong. It quickly progressed into beatings. Right now he’s at the top of my closet where I put his bed because he peed in mine last night. He started submissively peeing when ever he saw me. I just went about a month with out hurting a little hair on his head. And he stopped peeing. I think I got him to excited the other night when I brought him in a little piece of chicken for him and he peed. I beat him again. I had regained his trust. He didn’t flinch at all when I would move or anything. But now he’s terrified of me again. I know he’s submissively peeing to please me and a lot of the times I just let it be but sometimes something snaps in me. From this moment on I will no longer hurt my love. I know what it’s like to hurt and I would hate for anyone of any animal to go through the same that I have gone through. I will have to live with this on my conscious forever.