Growing up as a kid i was always picked up and bullied at school. i was a nerd and a geek wearing glasses. i was skinny as a twig and looked like i didnt eat. you could see my rib cage still can. i was called crackhead,ethiopian and other names. i didnt like going to school because i didnt fit and didnt have any friends except 2 people i always hung out with. i used to sit in my room at night and cry myself to sleep all the time because of all the hurt and pain i felt every single day. i wanted all the hurt,name calling, and pain to stop. my mom always told me to stay strong that the other kids were jealous of me because i had a loving home and had something they didnt had so they were just taking there hurt and pain out on me. the school teachers never did any good they didnt intervene or help just told the other kids to stop and to leave me alone. as i went through the school years the bullying only got worse. i hated changing in the locker room for gym class cause of all the crack head names and jokes about me being so thin and skinny, i looked like i was dying but i always ate like a pig at home. i went to the doctors routinely for thyroid and blood work and nothing was ever found to be wrong with me . i was healthy as a horse and the doctors always said the same thing. i had an over active metabolism because of how active i was. i always played basketball i was an awsome 3 pt shooter and could make 7/10 shots from half court with out a problem. anyways i used to skip school alot always saying i had a stomache ache and skipped for 3 months straight. well when cps showed up i was taken to the court house and they threatened my mom and me that if she didnt force me to go to school they would put me in a group home because she was a bad mother. well it wasnt my moms fault it was mine cause i would pretend i was going to school and hide out side in the woods then come back home and pretend i went to school. the truant officers used to take me to school in my scooby doo pajammas and iw ould sit in the guidance counselors office all day long working on class work. well nothing worked and made me feel better in school. i used to get jumped called gay,faggot on the way home cause my older brother was into guys so they thought i was just like my brother which i wasnt. anyways the pain never got any better it only got worse. i wanted everything to stop and to end the misery. i thought it would be better if i wasnt around and all my hurt and pain would stop. i used to cut myself deep on my arms with razor blades cutting straight up and down and across my arms. god it felt so good when the blood would run my arm would get hot and it felt like all the hurt and pain were flying out of my arm. i felt better when my arm was bleeding. well my mom would always see my arm red and take the band aid off and then yell and scream at me and rush me to the hospital where i would always end up with a handful of stitches in my arm. then i would always end up in crisis and then on a floor where i would always spend 2-3 weeks and put on all different types of medications . nothing every worked the meds would make me feel sick, more suicidal like seroquil would give me bad racing thoughts and make me eat when i was asleep,abilify made my jaw lock up, topomax made me sick as a dog. the shrinks always saw never did any good. i told them all i was abused by my older brother as a kid he would suffocate me with pillows until i would stop moving,chase me with knives, physically punch and kick me in my head,ribs arms until i would be puking. i had numerous concussions as a child from my brothers physical abuse. he was finally diagnosed with manic bi polar after he tried to kill us all buy burning down the house when we were sleeping. anyways i was diagnosed with pstd from all of the abuse from my older brother as a child. nothing changed. as i got older the cutting got worse i dropped out of school at 16 with an 8th grade education and was doing under the table labor work as a construction helper carrying cement blocks, mixing mud in a wheel barrow. then when my mom died a month after my 18th birthday i lost it all she was my rock,my soul, my best friend who always encouraged me to keep going on in life and helping me survive in the world. i lost my only support unit and parent i had in this world because my dad was removed when i was a child due to physical abuse on my mom and sexually abusing my older brother he wasnt in my life at all. i got into weed,and alcohol really bad with the wrong kids and almost ended up throwing my life away and going to prison when a homeless friend of mine kidnapped a kid. luckily i didnt go with him on his stunt. anyways i ended up living on the streets sleeping in sheds, the hospital waiting room picking up bottles and cans to get a few bucks for bread and peanut butter to eat . finally my grandma took me in where i slept on her living room floor. i would job hunt every day never finding anything until finally mcdonalds hired me easy work but barely 200 a week. it was a start . i would drink my grandma would say she couldnt deal with me anymore so i would cut myself deep and then id end up in crisis from the cops. i didnt want to live anymore and be a burden to her anymore or anyone ever again. my life was spinning out of control i wanted to be somebody. i wanted a life a world where i could be happy instead of walking through life pretending everything was good . i hated not being like my friends good jobs, a loving relationship . my life was horrible i sat home all day watching t.v nobody would call me txt me or come spend time with me. the only thing i did was write songs about my life,feelings,pain everything else and hope dream that 1 day some day i could get a song to country artist or band and have my song on the radio. you can go to my songs page on facebook to view my songs i have written over the yrs. facebook songs
i would walk around with a fake smile on my face pretending everything was ok. deep down i was dying inside,begging searching for a way to make everything stop. i was tired of living a life of unhappiness and lies . one night i over does on my serquel and was rushed to the e.r i had a heart rate of 196 bpm. the dr basically said my heart had a high chance of over working and stopping. the last thing i remember was having a gyanese worker help me to the bathroom i couldnt speak i spoke gibberish . and he asked me if i always talk like this and i tried to mumble its cause i o.d on psyche meds and he laughed at me and left me in the bathroom where i fell. thankfully the security guard was outside my room and got me and helped me back to my gurney. i remember waking up in a bright white room it was so calming. i heard little girl singing to me and i felt so at peace. there wasnt anyone or anything around me just a bright white light i was surrounded in. when i woke up 16 hours later the dr told me i had heart damage from the over beating of it and was lucky to be alive. i was then diagnosed with svt super ventricular tachycardi high heart rate its an electricol node mis fire. anyways after that i decided i had enough of trying to kill myself and i wanted to help other people and try to get people to understand that theres more to life then hurting your self . im not proud to walk around with all these scars on both of my arms but each one is a painful reminder to me i was at the end of my ropes and some how some way im still alive this day. if you stay positive and focus through all the hurt and pain you can over come and achieve anything you want. what helps me in my life this day is staying positive not hanging with negative people who bring me down and most of all my faith in god. theres always light at the end of the tunnel if you believe in yourself. so stay strong. stay positive reach out when you feel your going down the dark road. theres always light at the end of the tunnel and if you work hard you can make it. never say i cant always say i will or i can and you will have a positive out come through any hard rough tough journey.