My crappy life I’m grateful for…

Dedication: Everyone who deals with SA or rape.

Trigger warning: Before reading this post, please be aware that it contains references to childhood sexual assault

Alright, I’m doing this. Honestly, I’m tired like everyone else. I’m 15 years and I’m about to share my screwed-up life story with strangers. So I’m gonna start with before I was born. My mom and dad pretty much met walking down a street. My mom was walking a dog and I don’t know what the hell my dad was doing. Well, they started seeing each other and hanging out. Welp my mother got pregnant and that’s where I come in. My mom was at the hospital and my dad showed up but my mom was acting like she was asleep because she saw him bring in some chick. Anyways she saw them flirting and she sat on his lap and she was pissed. He was cheating on her. Sometimes I think I messed their relationship up. I was born and lived with my mom until I was two. I was a curious little brat and I liked to crawl across the street and play with the farm animals. Oh yeah, we lived across from a farm. The neighbors got sick of that and called CPS. So I was taken away from my mom and went to live with my dad because he was obviously the first choice. So I lived there and we moved to Florida. I went to kindergarten in Arizona and we moved back to New york. So there was this dude we lived with named *** and he would watch me while my dad went to “work”. His job was making clothes for strippers and club dancers. They were actually pretty cool though not gonna lie. Meaning the designs. Anyways so one day I was bummed out and wanted to take a nap. I was also like 5 or 6 at the time. I asked Mario if he could rub my back because that was like a comfort thing for me. So he rubbed my back and I fell asleep. Can you guess what I woke up to? He was rubbing me hard. Down there. Yeah. It hurt so I told him to stop and he did not thinking much into it. I fell back asleep and I wake up again to him doing the same thing. I remember telling him to stop again and he got up to go make a cigarette. I laid there for a minute staring at the ceiling. It was hurting down there. I told my dad maybe a couple of days after. I had visitation with my mom where she would come to the house. I told her. Not a lot of people really believed me because apparently, I changed my stories a lot. The more like words were put into my mouth. I was taken away from my dad soon after and put in like a children’s home. Then foster care. My aunt and uncle came to the “rescue” and I went to live with them. I was taken to the hospital on my case. I had scar tissue from the sexual assault. I’m very grateful I wasn’t raped but, I didn’t understand the real importance of it until I was much older. When I was 8 my dad died. I was literally devastated. He died from a drug overdose. Crack. That same day my little cousin, ***, was being born. Fast forward years into the future. My aunt and uncle are getting a divorce. Oh yeah, and they had another child. I never really got along with my uncle and we fought a lot. He made my aunt’s life hell. During that time we were moving out of the house and I had just got my first boyfriend, . He *** was really nice but once we started dating it got weird. After three weeks of cringing, I finally broke up with him. Don’t worry, I was nice about it. Then guess what. COVID. Yeah, covid. Screw covid. Then I went through 8th grade being virtual. 9th grade started and everyone was getting laid, vaping, doing drugs, and drinking. I didn’t feel like ruining my life so I skipped that. I’ve taken a few nic hits, I’m not going to lie. One of my best friends, ***, showed up to school, high. She lost her dad two. She’s not the best influence but I know what she’s going through, so I stay by her. I still talk to my mom everyday and there are too many little stories in between to share. I feel better now. Getting as much as I could out.

((*** names removed to protect the storyteller’s anonymity))