Kai_Txn
Member
- Oct 27, 2024
- 26
I want to share some info about myself because I'm new here. I feel compelled to do this because I feel like someone should know, even if they dont know me. I want to say whats bothering me, I want to tell my story. The reasons why I dont need this. The reasons why I stay, which arent many. And the reasons why I have decided to CTB within the next year or so.
This is a story in detail:
When I was born, my mother gave birth alone. My father was busy getting drunk and high and whatever else.
From the day i was born, she established our relationship. I only know of this fact because it is a "funny story" she tells at Thanksgiving every year and it goes like this;
The doctors lifted me up and smiled brightly at my mother. I was quiet and covered in blood and whatever else. My mother watched as they made me cry without batting an eye. The doctor holding me up, placed me on my mothers chest for skin to skin and she gagged at me and said "Jesus go wash it first" and that was that.
Fast forward a couple years, I experienced the first of many terrible events in my life.
I was asleep in my crib at around 2 years old when my Father, who was previously kicked out of the house, came to the front door at midnight (or later honestly) and asked my drunken mother if he could see me. She allowed him into my bedroom where he picked me up out of my crib and tried to run out the door. My mother fought him and I was shaken awake when my head hit the wall in the struggle. Police were called and that was the last of my father.
From then on, my mother was withdrawn. Maybe she was suffering her own depression. I wouldn't be surprised. She was 19 when she had me, my father was 17.
She drank more than she breathed oxygen. From the week I was born until I was 11 my mother drank non stop. During her years of drinking, I was growing up and learning quickly. I was hyper aware of everything, I knew what was happening at all times. My grandfather said it was a gift to be so intelligent. My mother was very angry all the time and still is to this day.
She would take my things, steal my money from birthdays, Christmas or from my grandfather for beers, cigarettes or whatever else she needed. She would break my devices, toys, furniture. She punched through walls and doors like as if they werent event there. As a 5 year old, going to kindergarten for the first time, I quickly realized that not everyones moms acted that way and most other kids had dads and didnt live with their grandparents.
Being 5-8 years old, I had no filter, I wasnt aware of the fact that my mother could be insecure about things like her failures (that I now as an adult know were preventable and entirely her fault), I would tell her that I hated her. I would say things like "youre not a normal mom" or "youre not my mom". To which she would hit me without asking any further questions.
Around age 8, I realized that the kids running from me on the playground wasnt a game and that they actually just didnt want to play with me. Looking back at it, yeah it was dumb and I should have been able to tough it out but as a kid, it was devastating. So, i spent recess mostly in the guidance councilors office reading books.
I started getting bullied around that time as well.
Being shoved around and made fun of at school for everything and anything I did was bad enough, but having to be bullied by my own mother when I came home as well made it impossible to stomach.
During this year as well, my mother got a new boyfriend. This boyfriend ended up moving in with us in my Grandfathers apartment.
He was physical. He had a short fuse and a big temper. You can guess what he did.
From the day he moved in, every night was a nightmare. Almost every single day I would hear and sometimes see him beating my mother. From then until I was 16 he would beat my mom.
Around age 10, I started stealing cigarettes from my mother's ash tray ,when she wasnt home, and smoking them. I fell in love with the nicotine buzz and started stealing cigarettes from my grandmother who was suffering from stage 1 dementia at the time and blaming her missing cigarettes on her forgetfulness.
At 13 I met a man who would buy me cigarettes so I did everything in my power to be near him and stay on his good side at all times. This man was 17 at the time. He introduced me to weed.
13 years old and in 8th grade and already sick of everything, I smoked whatever was given to me. I ended up having a really bad panic attack one day and my mother sent me to the psych er where they kept me for 3 days to evaluate me then gave me a diagnosis and sent me to therapy. I was inconsistent with my visits as I was more inclined to run away from school almost every day to go get high and buy cigarettes.
During this time as well, The guy (we'll call M) was praying on me. I didn't know it until it was too late. The day after christmas that year, he asked me to smoke with him. I left my house without a word, shut off my phone and went to meet him at the park. We got high and I started to panic, as i usually did back then because I just couldnt keep it together when I was high. He suggested we go to his house so i could calm down and not have to be panicking in public. I agreed. He lived in a studio apartment with his brother. His brother was away on vacation so it was just us in the house. He turned on some cartoons and I thought I was safe. I kicked off my shoes and laid down on his bed in front of the tv because he didnt have a couch and watched the tv as he laid behind me. You can guess what he did to me that night.
After my relationship with him ended, my mother became more reserved. She was being beaten by her boyfriend and then going to work and trying to stay away from alcohol while doing it.
M threatened me. He said if he saw me around the block he would off me. So i stayed with my grandma in the next county that summer. There I met my fiance. we'll call him A.
I came back home once A convinced me that he would keep me safe. Turns out he lived in my neighborhood. So i did.
Somehow i graduated 8th grade and went to high school somewhere in that time.
at 14-15, M found me again. He convinced me to go to his house again, saying he changed and that he had a new gf and that he was sorry. I was dumb and scared so i agreed. Of course he did it again, why wouldnt he?
I broke up with A when I met a guy at my High School. We'll call him L
While I was with L, I was hit by my mothers boyfriend for the first time. L convinced me to go stay with him so I did. For a whole semester and the summer between my freshman year and sophomore year. Things were great with L until they werent. I was getting more and more depressed which caused me to become toxically attached to L. He couldnt take the smothering and ran away from home. Lost contact with everyone. I searched for him for a month before I found out he was cheating on me the whole time with my friends older "brother", E.
E threatened me, if i was to go anywhere near L ever again, he would have me hunted.
I stayed away as best as I could. I got a job in a fast food joint. dropped out of high school. I got back with A. Got engaged to him at 17. (early I know but trust me that It was the right thing to do. I'm still with him all these years later).
I tried to get my GED. I couldnt pass the test. My mother started calling me names because of it.
Her boyfriend came home drunk on valentines day that year and beat me. I later found out that in his drunken stupor, he thought I was stealing his weed when at this point in my life, it was very well known that I had been clean since the summer between 8th grade and my freshman year in hs.
My mother threatened to call the cops on him if he were to ever do it again and he beat her as a response. I called the cops that night for the first time and they did basically nothing. Later that year he got more violent with me.
My mother had gotten promoted at her job so she was out of the house more. I was completely out of school and was loosing friends so I had less and less to do so I was home alone with him a lot. He hit me again and again.
The next year, I was 18.
The last time he hit me, I was home alone. He was out somewhere on his bike. I was about to go take a shower so i was wearing nothing but a robe. My phone rang and my grandfather was on the other line. "lock the house door and dont let him in" was all he said before the house door swung open and hit me. (I was standing in front of the door about to lock it)
My moms boyfriend stormed in and started yelling about something I couldnt understand. He pushed me, threw a beer bottle at me then tackled me to the ground. He is 6"2 and I am 5"3 so I wasnt able to push him off of me. My robe came undone and he hit me again. I cried and kicked and pushed as hard as I could. I spit in his face, scratched, screamed. he wouldnt budge. So i bit him. he got off then walked out of the house when I yelled for siri to call the police because I couldnt reach my phone.
I found out later that day in the hospital that he had gone to my mothers job and choked her to the point where her neck was bruised.
We finally got a restraining order against him and I havent seen him since that day.
My mother held a grudge for pressing charges. She didnt press any charges.
My mother made her anger toward me very apparent. She ignored me, was bitter and more withdrawn than i had ever seen her be.
And somewhere after that time passed...And now im here. No food in the house, barely any money, no diploma, no therapy, jealous of everyone for being so fucking happy all the time and worrying about becoming a failure.
I left out a lot of details. Other, smaller but still traumatic events. But halfway through this, I wanted to stop typing. I felt like disregarding everything and just deciding that its okay for me to ctb without ever telling anyone these things in detail but I got through it for the most part.
But yeah, thats my story. Thank you for listening.
-KaiTxn
This is a story in detail:
When I was born, my mother gave birth alone. My father was busy getting drunk and high and whatever else.
From the day i was born, she established our relationship. I only know of this fact because it is a "funny story" she tells at Thanksgiving every year and it goes like this;
The doctors lifted me up and smiled brightly at my mother. I was quiet and covered in blood and whatever else. My mother watched as they made me cry without batting an eye. The doctor holding me up, placed me on my mothers chest for skin to skin and she gagged at me and said "Jesus go wash it first" and that was that.
Fast forward a couple years, I experienced the first of many terrible events in my life.
I was asleep in my crib at around 2 years old when my Father, who was previously kicked out of the house, came to the front door at midnight (or later honestly) and asked my drunken mother if he could see me. She allowed him into my bedroom where he picked me up out of my crib and tried to run out the door. My mother fought him and I was shaken awake when my head hit the wall in the struggle. Police were called and that was the last of my father.
From then on, my mother was withdrawn. Maybe she was suffering her own depression. I wouldn't be surprised. She was 19 when she had me, my father was 17.
She drank more than she breathed oxygen. From the week I was born until I was 11 my mother drank non stop. During her years of drinking, I was growing up and learning quickly. I was hyper aware of everything, I knew what was happening at all times. My grandfather said it was a gift to be so intelligent. My mother was very angry all the time and still is to this day.
She would take my things, steal my money from birthdays, Christmas or from my grandfather for beers, cigarettes or whatever else she needed. She would break my devices, toys, furniture. She punched through walls and doors like as if they werent event there. As a 5 year old, going to kindergarten for the first time, I quickly realized that not everyones moms acted that way and most other kids had dads and didnt live with their grandparents.
Being 5-8 years old, I had no filter, I wasnt aware of the fact that my mother could be insecure about things like her failures (that I now as an adult know were preventable and entirely her fault), I would tell her that I hated her. I would say things like "youre not a normal mom" or "youre not my mom". To which she would hit me without asking any further questions.
Around age 8, I realized that the kids running from me on the playground wasnt a game and that they actually just didnt want to play with me. Looking back at it, yeah it was dumb and I should have been able to tough it out but as a kid, it was devastating. So, i spent recess mostly in the guidance councilors office reading books.
I started getting bullied around that time as well.
Being shoved around and made fun of at school for everything and anything I did was bad enough, but having to be bullied by my own mother when I came home as well made it impossible to stomach.
During this year as well, my mother got a new boyfriend. This boyfriend ended up moving in with us in my Grandfathers apartment.
He was physical. He had a short fuse and a big temper. You can guess what he did.
From the day he moved in, every night was a nightmare. Almost every single day I would hear and sometimes see him beating my mother. From then until I was 16 he would beat my mom.
Around age 10, I started stealing cigarettes from my mother's ash tray ,when she wasnt home, and smoking them. I fell in love with the nicotine buzz and started stealing cigarettes from my grandmother who was suffering from stage 1 dementia at the time and blaming her missing cigarettes on her forgetfulness.
At 13 I met a man who would buy me cigarettes so I did everything in my power to be near him and stay on his good side at all times. This man was 17 at the time. He introduced me to weed.
13 years old and in 8th grade and already sick of everything, I smoked whatever was given to me. I ended up having a really bad panic attack one day and my mother sent me to the psych er where they kept me for 3 days to evaluate me then gave me a diagnosis and sent me to therapy. I was inconsistent with my visits as I was more inclined to run away from school almost every day to go get high and buy cigarettes.
During this time as well, The guy (we'll call M) was praying on me. I didn't know it until it was too late. The day after christmas that year, he asked me to smoke with him. I left my house without a word, shut off my phone and went to meet him at the park. We got high and I started to panic, as i usually did back then because I just couldnt keep it together when I was high. He suggested we go to his house so i could calm down and not have to be panicking in public. I agreed. He lived in a studio apartment with his brother. His brother was away on vacation so it was just us in the house. He turned on some cartoons and I thought I was safe. I kicked off my shoes and laid down on his bed in front of the tv because he didnt have a couch and watched the tv as he laid behind me. You can guess what he did to me that night.
After my relationship with him ended, my mother became more reserved. She was being beaten by her boyfriend and then going to work and trying to stay away from alcohol while doing it.
M threatened me. He said if he saw me around the block he would off me. So i stayed with my grandma in the next county that summer. There I met my fiance. we'll call him A.
I came back home once A convinced me that he would keep me safe. Turns out he lived in my neighborhood. So i did.
Somehow i graduated 8th grade and went to high school somewhere in that time.
at 14-15, M found me again. He convinced me to go to his house again, saying he changed and that he had a new gf and that he was sorry. I was dumb and scared so i agreed. Of course he did it again, why wouldnt he?
I broke up with A when I met a guy at my High School. We'll call him L
While I was with L, I was hit by my mothers boyfriend for the first time. L convinced me to go stay with him so I did. For a whole semester and the summer between my freshman year and sophomore year. Things were great with L until they werent. I was getting more and more depressed which caused me to become toxically attached to L. He couldnt take the smothering and ran away from home. Lost contact with everyone. I searched for him for a month before I found out he was cheating on me the whole time with my friends older "brother", E.
E threatened me, if i was to go anywhere near L ever again, he would have me hunted.
I stayed away as best as I could. I got a job in a fast food joint. dropped out of high school. I got back with A. Got engaged to him at 17. (early I know but trust me that It was the right thing to do. I'm still with him all these years later).
I tried to get my GED. I couldnt pass the test. My mother started calling me names because of it.
Her boyfriend came home drunk on valentines day that year and beat me. I later found out that in his drunken stupor, he thought I was stealing his weed when at this point in my life, it was very well known that I had been clean since the summer between 8th grade and my freshman year in hs.
My mother threatened to call the cops on him if he were to ever do it again and he beat her as a response. I called the cops that night for the first time and they did basically nothing. Later that year he got more violent with me.
My mother had gotten promoted at her job so she was out of the house more. I was completely out of school and was loosing friends so I had less and less to do so I was home alone with him a lot. He hit me again and again.
The next year, I was 18.
The last time he hit me, I was home alone. He was out somewhere on his bike. I was about to go take a shower so i was wearing nothing but a robe. My phone rang and my grandfather was on the other line. "lock the house door and dont let him in" was all he said before the house door swung open and hit me. (I was standing in front of the door about to lock it)
My moms boyfriend stormed in and started yelling about something I couldnt understand. He pushed me, threw a beer bottle at me then tackled me to the ground. He is 6"2 and I am 5"3 so I wasnt able to push him off of me. My robe came undone and he hit me again. I cried and kicked and pushed as hard as I could. I spit in his face, scratched, screamed. he wouldnt budge. So i bit him. he got off then walked out of the house when I yelled for siri to call the police because I couldnt reach my phone.
I found out later that day in the hospital that he had gone to my mothers job and choked her to the point where her neck was bruised.
We finally got a restraining order against him and I havent seen him since that day.
My mother held a grudge for pressing charges. She didnt press any charges.
My mother made her anger toward me very apparent. She ignored me, was bitter and more withdrawn than i had ever seen her be.
And somewhere after that time passed...And now im here. No food in the house, barely any money, no diploma, no therapy, jealous of everyone for being so fucking happy all the time and worrying about becoming a failure.
I left out a lot of details. Other, smaller but still traumatic events. But halfway through this, I wanted to stop typing. I felt like disregarding everything and just deciding that its okay for me to ctb without ever telling anyone these things in detail but I got through it for the most part.
But yeah, thats my story. Thank you for listening.
-KaiTxn
