She’s far from okay 

This week has been so fucked up.

I have a friend who lives in America, and she doesn’t have any friends where she lives. So when someone texted her being friendly and showed her attention, she was happy. In that moment she had finally found someone to love who she thought loved her back. I wish it went differently. I wish he had been who he said he was. I wish I’d done more to stop her going to meet him. She’s only 17 years old, and her life has already gone so wrong. 

He’d convinced her to meet him at an abandoned building, because it would be more ‘private’. Well, he wasn’t who she thought he was. And he wasn’t alone. 

This isn’t a made up story, this is her reality. She walked into that building to meet him feeling those first date nerves you feel. One of them hit her on the head, when she woke up she was tied up. They then raped her. All 3 of them. And it didn’t stop there. It didn’t stop when the police came, it didn’t stop when she got home. He continued to text her and black mail her into not telling the police again. Then a few days later they broke into her home. And they raped her again. And they hurt her. They hurt her really fucking bad. Physically and mentally. 

Before they got into the house she texted me, telling me what was going on, and how scared she was. Then an hour later I received this message  

I wasn’t even the one being hurt and I was scared. It felt like hours before I got myself together enough to talk to a friend who also knows her and lives in America. I told him everything I knew and all the information she’d told me. 

She’s now in hospital and the 3 men have been arseted. She’s fucked up but she’s safe and in hospital. 

It’s been giving me nightmares and I can’t get what happened out of my head. Yet it wasn’t me that they raped, it wasn’t me that was tied up. It wasn’t me they tortured. I don’t know what’s going to happen now, it still makes me feel sick to think about what has happened to her. 

Today reality hit me

Today my best friend asked me how I was doing. And after a catch up she asked me what I would do after my last therapy session, which ends in July. And it hit me, I have no idea. 

I am honestly scared. For the past year and a half I have been told not to work and to concentrate on therapy and getting ‘better’ 

But for the first time I’ve realised that I’m no where near stable enough to do the things that other people do on a daily basis. I can’t exspress how scared I am. I’m in and out of hospital and am in therapy most of my time at the moment. And I am only 21. I read Facebook posts about people I went to school with who have their life on track. They have jobs and are even saving up to buy a house. And here I am, recently having tried to kill myself, and can barely keep myself out of hospital alive. 

Fuck. 

If you love me you’d send me nudes

I have a friend (let’s have you all know him as Ash) who this year as really been there for me. And also unlike most knows how to calm me when I’m going through one of my ‘episodes’. He doesn’t judge and has a very close family member who has depression. So he tends to see through most of the lies I tell when I’m trying to cover up how I feel and what’s really going on in my head. 

Yet another friend of mine who used to be friends with him is constantly telling me how “he’s a back stabber” and pretty much a really shit friend and lies all the time to get what he wants. 

Yet where was he when I needed him? He was no where to be found. He was also the one who black mailed me when I was 14 years old for pictures of me in my underwear. And then when I sent him them he then wanted nudes. How ever I couldn’t go that far. This was also when my eating disorder made a lovely appearance in my life. I would talk to him because I like most teens, Had thought I’d found love and that he was wonderful. 

He was far from wonderful. He’s one of those people that when you say you’re depressed or feeling really low will turn around and say “stay positive… go for a walk? Find a hobby?” Well fuckaroo Jacob, I didn’t think of that! I’ve just been for a walk Jacob and I feel better already. 

No Jacob if it worked like that then I wouldn’t be fucking depressed. I try not to be bitter about how he doesn’t understand what depression is. In a way it’s kind of good. He’s lived a life where he hasn’t felt depressed or had any mental health problems. Or even a loved close one that’s going/been through it. 

Back to what he did to me when I was 14… 

so after I didn’t give him the pictures he so desperately needed. In order to show him that I truly loved him, he would need these photos by the end of the year. 

A few days pass and I’ve pretty much starved my way through December and I haven’t sent him nudes. I wake up to a message from him on Facebook on New Year’s Eve. He pretty much said he can’t wait around for me any longer, he needs to move on because it’s too hard for him. And that if I really loved him I’d of sent him nudes by now. 

Now my 14 year olds ass thought the world was crashing down. But little did I know the worst was yet to come. YAY FOR ME, because I just love a surprise. 

I log on to Facebook to see he had been posting a few statuses about me. Sadly they were not about how heart broken he was. Nopeee. He called be a crazy physco ex. I had threatened to kill myself if he didn’t stay with me. So him being a gent stayed with me. Just so I didn’t kill myself. To make it worse he’d screen shot a conversation where I JOKINGLY said that if my day got any worse I’d kill myself with a spoon. He’d twisted everything I said. He started telling everyone I was a slut. And that I should stop stalking him. I then had random girls message me, telling he to back the fuck away. To leave poor Jacob alone. How what I did was fucked up and I shouldn’t be such a slut. The only thing I’d done was sent him a few pictures of me in my underwear. I hadn’t even held a boys hand. But I was slut shamed and made to feel crazy. 

I basically cried my way through the new year until March. It doesn’t end there. He messaged me saying he was sorry. I stupidly forgave him. However we basically went round a roundabout and the whole thing happened again. Except he didn’t make nasty posts about it.

We are now just on and off friends. It’s not much of a friendship, I will never trust him and I will never forget what he done. But I will still make small talk with the prick. Mostly because I pitty the fool. 

My spot on a hill

Like most, I have a favourite spot. A place I can go to for quite. A place where I can be me and alone. 

I found it when I was 14 and have loved it since. I don’t take people here. Only once have I ever and that was my sister Lay. And I will never again take someone there. I don’t want anything less than nice tainting my favourite place on Earth. 

It is now also her favourite place too.

A lot of shit has happened to me, but I’m forever greatful for finding this spot. It’s true what they say I guess, it’s the little things in life. 

A toilets best friend

I lasted 30minuets 

30 mins of pushing away the urge to make myself sick, I tried to burry the thoughts swimming in my head. But they kept resurfacing. 

You can’t keep this food in you, you need to throw it up… bla bla bla 

It never ends. Even once I’ve thrown it all up, and I’m empty inside, It still calls me. 

I hope one day it’ll end. It was 29 min longer than the last time.

Get a drink because this is a long one 

In group therapy we got onto the topic of sex and pregnancy. One of the girls thought she may be pregnant, and after 10 min of talking about these topics it came around to me. I was asked how I felt about this subject. It’s a subject I hate talking about, but will. Because every time I talk about it I start to shake and almost cry. 

When I was 18 my eating disorder was at its worst, but it was also still a secret. So my periods stopped and me being slightly stupid also assumed I just wouldn’t be able to get pregnant. Low and behold I got pregnant. I told none of my family and very few friends. In the end we both decided (I and my boyfriend) to have an abortion. I had my reasons and he supported the decision. It was hard to go through and I cried daily for months. To say I felt like scummy shit would be an massive understatement. 

Skip a year ahead. I’m still with the same man after almost 2 years. We both have good jobs, a house and are pretty stable and enjoying life. Just before I went to visit my family in London for a weekend we found out I was pregnant. After the shock I was rather happy. It wasn’t planned, but we decided to keep him or her. I was going to be a mum. And I was going to try my hardest to not let that child go through what I had. 

After my lovely weekend of fun and family I was running to catch the coach home, except I didn’t run fast enough and missed it. I called Jay (let’s call him that shall we) and was explaining how sorry I was for missing the coach but I’d get the next one in an hour. He told me not to bother 

…what? Why not? It’s okay Jay I’m only an hour behind, I’m really sorry I missed it 

Just don’t bother coming home, stay with your mum for a few weeks. 

We argued like that for a few min till I eventually burst into tears, my best friend was with me and I will be greatful always for her friendship and support. He told me he wasn’t sure he loved me anymore. I couldn’t work out what had gone wrong. What I’d done wrong. I had trusted him, I’d loved him, I’d tried my hardest to be who he wanted me to be. He was old fashioned, I did all the ‘house chores’ and if he wanted sex I gave him sex. If he wanted food I gave him food. But I did it because I loved him. I put up with his shit because I loved him. 

However he then abused my trust. There was girl named Harriet. She was also in a relationship, but apparently he was a ‘shit’ boyfriend (I personally think Jay needs to look in the mirror) so he spent a lot of time with her. And I honestly thought nothing of it. That they were just friends and he simply wanted to be a nice friend. 

[Back to me standing with my friend crying my eyes out at Victoria coach station] I hung up the phone and told her everything. It’d started dawning on me, that it was Harriet, he was leaving me for Harriet. I was heart broken and furious. I called work and explained how I had been kicked out of my own home by my boyfriend and was stuck in London. And they were helpful and   Understanding about it. I went home to my sisters because I couldn’t face my mum and E. I only told her that I’d missed my coach home. After crying some more I relasised I was going to be a single mum. I didn’t think I’d be able to go through a second abortion. And I thought that maybe I didn’t try hard enough the first time. That maybe I could’ve done it, I could’ve raised a child then and that I should make it work for this one. 

After a few days it slowly came out what was happening. They’d hear the arguments over the phone. The crying, the screaming and all he could say was ‘I don’t love you anymore’ that I wasn’t wanted back in our home, or even in Wales. That I should stay in London and stay away from him and his family until the baby is born and then he’d see him/her when he could/wanted. 

He also told me he’d break my legs if I took our cats with me and hurled abusive threats at me for weeks over minor things.

After I moved my things from the house she moved in, at one point she’d said ‘that crazy bitch is gone at last’ 

When my family found out about the pregnancy it didn’t go down well at all. Especially when they found out I was keeping the baby. I came home one day and walked into what’s pretty much known as an intervention. It was a pretty shit moment when I realised not one family member other than my sister Victoria was there for me. Not even my mum or dad. At one point her partner E offered me £10,000 to have an abortion. So you can see after weeks of hearing all this from my own family that my mind began to change. I thought they’re right I can’t do it, and it’d be unfair on the baby. By this point I’d told them about the first abortion. I’d broke down again and told them how I couldn’t go through with a second. 

But that was my own fault for getting into this situation apparently. And I started to believe it. So after cancelling my midwife appointment I booked an appointment to have an abortion… again. They did a scan and I was asked if I wanted to see him or her. I said no but stupidly peeked anyway. I was 11 weeks and 5 days. It was done on the 24th November 2014. 

I woke up after it was all over and cried. My mum and sister then took me out for dinner as a small celebration. I of course was sickened by the idea. I cried for months. And I hate myself for the whole thing. It’s on my list of reasons why I hate me.  

A for Acting

Nothing maters to me any more. Yet at the same time it does. I’m dangerously low in mood. And I can’t seem to ask for help. But at the same time I don’t want to. Then again, I want someone to notice how much I am hurting, and no one does. Because I am too good at hiding it. I really am sorry. I’ve destroyed myself, I have lived up to my reputation. The reputation I hate. 

I am lost, maybe forever 

I really don’t know what to do with myself anymore. 

I’m trying my hardest to love myself or to at least like myself but it’s not working. I can’t express just how much I hate myself. 

And everyday I come close to ending my life, and every time I don’t. I want to die because I’m unhappy but I know killing myself will upset people. So do I live my life being unhappy to keep others happy? Or do I get it over with and upset the ones who love me?

Another thing I do is, I purposely sabotage the good things in my life because I convince myself I deserve nothing and no one. 

Or maybe no one deserves the burden of even knowing me.

Even people who said they loved me a few weeks ago have cut contact with me. 

I saw my nan yesterday who said “can I get you anything? A drink? Food? … a job?” I had never felt so embarrassed. I’m told by my doctors not to get a job because I’m not stable enough. And I listen because I know they’re right. 

I need help I know, but help isn’t working and things really aren’t improving over time. In fact they love gotten slightly worse. 

It’s as if just one too many people hate me.