So shortly after I returned home to this debacle, My mother decided that that would be the best time to make permanent ties to this man and they got married. The night she told me that they were engaged I took an entire bottle of Tylenol PMs, more as a threat than an actual attempt.
My mother never took me to the hospital. Only told me to sleep them off.
She was a different person to me.
No longer did I see her as this woman that loved me unconditionally, that was there to protect me and guard me from harm. I realized at that moment that she wasn't a singular individual. That she needed someone to need her. Like a leech, she needed to gain her nourishment from the suffering of others. And to this day I see that this is true. I'm still close with my mother but I no longer view her as such and I no longer rely on her for the basic things that should be provided from a mother. Love, Caring, and Protection.
She simply never had them to give.
So after the couple had tied the knot, I continued living in fear. I slept with a knife under my pillow, avoided situations where I would be alone with him and began sneaking in his belongings when noone was around so that I could break shit.
I HATED him. More than my biological father. I preferred someone to show me an uncaring, nonchalance than direct intention to break me down as a person.
I had never been kissed, never had a boyfriend and He had taken those firsts from me for the rest of my life.
By the time I was 14 I had become deeply involved in drinking and pills. I partied with older teens and drank until until I threw up. But I was still terrified of anything sexual. I maintained my virginity until 17 when I simply threw it away on some guy that I can't picture in my head. He was 28. I only remember the vague squeaking of the truck bed and how sweaty I felt.
It was stupid.
I then proceeded after 17 to push myself into a psychological demolishon derby. Ramming useless, abusive substances into my body until I self destructed, rise from the ashes and repeat. I never really "dated" but I used my body as a means to manipulate. I began trying to substitute sex for feelings. Although I found myself completely unavailable to care for anyone. I never cared that everyone always said I would lose a boy's respect for putting out. I didn't want their respect. I don't know what I really wanted.
All I know is that I never got it.
Somewhere between 15 and 16 I had been bouncing around different therapists and psychiatric drugs with horrible side effects until I settled on something I believe was called Trileptal.
This shit made me fantastically high. I'd never felt so high before and I loved it. One night, armed with a new bottle of said pills, I went over to my best friends house. My mother called me and told me in her most manipulative voice that she would be at her lover's house and to tell my stepdad that I was with her.
The thoughts hit my mind in rapid succession. When I was in pain, It was fine, He could stay. But when she felt underloved, she could sacrifice their bond.
Armed with pills and an uncontrollable rage I began popping those pills into my mouth like they were the magic cure-all. I soon realized that I had taken the last one and I went to lie down in the floor of my friends living room to talk to her sister.
All of a sudden it was as if someone was dripping black paint on my eyes. My high went away. I was blinded.
Then next thing I remember I was waking up in ICU. I had called my mother and she and her lover had driven me to the hospital where all attempts to flush my stomach out had failed. They had to pump it, while I was unconscious. When I awoke I had to deal with a swarm of well concerned nurses telling me that life was worth living. I could look their sweet faces and say "I just wanted to get high." I don't remember my mother being there at all.
Soon after, she got caught. Her husband left. I was 16 years old and she spent every moment of her free time with her new guy. He was 23, a roaring alcoholic, but I didn't care. He would buy me booze, pot, and cigarettes. I jumped in mom's spare car and taught myself to drive. My best friend helped me. I helped my brother with his homework, got my first job, and spent my nights spiraling into a world of backroad parties, sex, and personal demons.
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