My story

I have a long story, but it probably won't seem so tragic once it's been put down. 

It started when I was six months old, when my mother shot herself. That led to many messed up problems and depression. My dad remarried this controlling, abusive, and all around mean step-mon.

At five, my dad molested me.  The wicked step-mom found out and hated me even more. See, I look just like my biological mom, so she was always jealous that my dad would love me more. She treated me pretty messed up growing up. I never had a mom to run to and cry on. I didn't have a dad who would hug me and say it's going to be alright.

So, at about fifteen I started hurting myself and purging. Oh, the Beast (my step mom) also started smoking weed with me.  She got me hooked on it, but would use it as a cruel joke to take it and give it at her whim.

At sixteen, I was given cocaine by my parents who were abusers for quite some time.  That really messed me up.  I pretty much stopped eating and when I did eat, I purged.

At the age of seventeen I was doing a lot of cocaine, and in October of 1999, my parents, again lost their jobs and our place to stay.  I had to move again to Arizona and we all stayed with my Step-mom's relatives in the slums.  There was a drug-dealer living next door and sometimes my dad had to drag "her" from the pipe by her hair.

That was an awful experience, guess what, it gets worse. I was basically homeless, so I started living with this guy.  He was my first boyfriend and I didn't know much about relationships.  Well, my parents left me there and moved on again to Texas.  When they did that, the man I was staying with got very violent with me.

My condition got worse, I passed out one time from not eating enough or throwing up, I can't remember. I had no choice in that time. I stayed with the guy for five hellish years. Thank God I didn't get pregnant by him.

Eventually, I got lucky. Another man came into my life and I packed all my stuff one night and took a taxi to his place, that was the night my life changed forever.

I am still struggling with bulimia, but not as nearly bad as I used to I have two beautiful girls. I throw up maybe two to five times a month, give or take. I still struggle with the mirror every time I see myself. I hate the reflection. But I have to give myself time to loose the baby weight. Some day I tell myself I'll be happy with what I look like.

You have any comments or questions?

Email me at rjones272@cox.net.

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