I grew up in a house of mental illness and anger that triggered fighting between my parents and eventually lead to us. I remember bits and pieces but those memories don't leave. One day when I was about 8 years old I was getting ready for school when I heard screaming and a loud thud. My mom had thrown her hair dryer at my dad's head. I witnessed a lot of abuse between them.
My sister and I didn't get to eat some days. My sister would beg for dinner, but I was too afraid. I was afraid of my own shadow. We were often neglected and teachers began noticing. We didn't know how to brush our teeth or hair right. In middle school, one of my teachers pulled me aside and asked if I was ok because I would break down crying randomly in class. I lied and said yes. I should have told him the truth.
At home, mom would tell my sister that she hated her every day. I was cornered by them often. I was forced into treatment and put on pills at 12. Mom lied a lot about how "bad it was." If I was tired, sick or having a panic attack it didn't matter, if I said “I can't” or “I'm not going today” all hell broke lose; Mom would scream her head off. I've been called a million names. She would slam my door open and stare me down until I was sobbing in the corner, begging her to stop. My dad hated the noise so he backed her up just so she would shut up. They would threaten me. I asked one day "Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you just ask nicely?" She looked at me like nothing happened and said "It's the only way I can get you to do it."
One day I wanted to end it, I prayed hard throughout the usual threats and felt a peace I've never felt. I knew it was God and I could stand up and not be afraid. Today, I have Christ and my sister and I are getting help for all of this. I thank God for Childhelp and anyone helping because every child deserves to feel safe and wanted.