I grew up in a middle class family with a stay at home mom. I lived in the same house for most of my life and I earned good grades in school. I played many sports and had a good group of friends. My family and I had painted a picture of what seemed to be a normal healthy life.
My life essentially was a two-sided mirror, the kind in which the first side reflected an image while the second side magnified it. I chose never to flip over the mirror. In fact, I fought against it. I struggled through police investigations, social workers, and school nurses. It was my job to keep the mirror on its first side. My hands clutched the edges and for the majority of my life I never questioned why. I thought it was the role of every child.
When the mirror cracked
Like any other day I came home and started typing in my journal. I began to cry as I wrote. It had been normal for me to get emotional when I wrote but this day’s entry was different. It was like I was watching myself rather then existing as myself. When I was finished writing I went into my bathroom and took out a box of Sudafed, a bottle of Tylenol, and about 25 Viccodine. I went to the kitchen and filled our largest glass with water walked back to my room shutting my door. By the handful, I shoved the pills down my throat. It felt as if it wasn’t for the water I would have choked to death rather than poisoned.
Not knowing how it felt like to die, I watched myself in the mirror. I knew the pills had to get through my system and poison my blood so I started to jog in my room. I figured this would get my blood flowing and speed up the process.
Some how, I ended up in the front room asking my mother for help and the next thing I remember was the hospital. Through this process, my journal entry was discovered holding every secret I had been keeping…
The other side of the mirror
I grew up in an abusive household. My father is a convicted rapist and had unhealthy boundaries with his kids. He cheated on my mother multiple times and justified his actions with abuse and alcoholism. My mother suffered from various issues regarding her mental health. She had been severely abused in her youth and because of this never really knew what healthy was.
Before I started kindergarten, my foster brother from my father’s first marriage had also been severely abused. He tried drowning me, cutting me, and pushed me in front of cars. Law enforcement became involved when my foster brother started bragging to the neighbors about abusing me. Social services didn’t have a placement for my foster brother and my mother was left in the center of chaos feeling like she had no options.
In fourth grade my father really began to blend his boundaries with his kids again. He completely ignored my brother and doted on me. He told me I was beautiful and that he loved me. At night he would sit me on his lap and brush my hair. Each night became more and more inappropriate and I pulled away. My mother confronted him. There fighting became much worse. I would walk in on my mother sobbing and gasping for air as my father sat on top of her strangling her.
In sixth grade I developed an eating disorder called anorexia. Through all of my parents fighting it seemed to be my one since of control. In eighth grade my mother packed my brother and I up and we left my father and our home. We became homeless and shared a bedroom at my grandmother’s house. My mom became depressed and started to drink. She had a lifetime of abuse to work through.
My freshman year in high school my mom bought a trailer for us to live in. I wanted so badly to be better than my parents. I worked really hard in school. I participated in class events, leadership, did cheerleading, volunteered at a rest home, and earned good grades.
But, the secrets built inside me. I had gone my whole life without talking about what happened to me.
Getting help
Shortly, after I attempted suicide I moved out of my mother’s home. I became homeless and my counselor referred me to a short-term shelter because there were no placements for older youth in foster care. From there I moved into a Transitional Living Program for runaway and homeless youth (TLP). Basically, all living expenses were paid in exchange for taking personal responsibility, learning to cook, completing school, and more.
TLP helped me move from an unhealthy environment to a healthy environment. I learned how to live with a roommate, positive communication skills, healthy means of expression, how to cook, and other skills needed to live an independent healthy lifestyle. TLP coordinated family meetings in hope of reunification as well as supported my choice to continue counseling. Also, the Launch Pad helped me get a job with an outreach program as a peer mentor.
My life today
My life today is very different than it was just 5 years ago at 16. I will be graduating from a private university in December of 2009 with a Bachelors in Social Work. Also, I am in the top 10% at my university. I participate in many associations on campus and volunteer in my community. I was able to do with because of the experience I earned at TLP and working as a peer mentor. I owe my success and future to runaway and homeless youth programs and as a result, have dedicated my life to working in them.
March 27th, 2009 at 9:25 pm
Tedi,
The future is in your hands.
Your story is so touching and your future is so bright. You started with a very difficult childhood, yet you managed to move on, work harder and to love yourself. Love, that is the most important thing. Knowing that you deserve a better life and setting that as your goal is tremendous and you will succeed! Thank you for sharing your story and your success. You have a wondeful life in front of you. Break the old mirror and move on
February 4th, 2010 at 12:20 am
Thank you for sharing your story! It’s amazing to hear how you’re able to work up through all that craziness and be at where you are! It’s so admirable!