Ever since I was a little girl, I have had self esteem issues and have battled depression, bulimia and anorexia. It all started in 7th (12yrs old) grade when I started dating this girl. I ended up living with her for a few months, which didn’t help at all. (I was running from DSS/ DHHR) I remember she used to have many problems and I would always see scars and she introduced me to it. I never knew what that kind of stuff was beforehand and I never thought about doing anything like that. One day my father came home and was very mean to me. I remember grabbing a butter knife and bringing it to my arm. Even though it started out with the simple butter knife, it ended years later with very deep gashes and scars in my legs that are several inches long, and are very obvious even years after. I almost died, but I am blessed that I am still here to tell my story.

I got with my boyfriend three years ago and ever since then he has really helped with my sobriety, but I have relapsed a few times. We started trying for a baby a year and a half ago. I’ve been clean since and have not self harmed since getting pregnant. My daughter is now almost 4 months old and even though it is a constant battle I continue to fight because I know she would never want to see me hurt. There are days where my postpartum depression kicks in badly and I want to so so bad but I don’t because I am better than that. My sobriety is very important to me because even my own aunt who had adopted me used to make fun of me because of it. Said that I craved attention even though I had hid it from her for years. I would wear long sleeve shirts in the summer and I would wear long pants. I always hid my body but sometimes she would just walk in my room while I was getting dressed.

While I was in the foster system, I used to self harm very badly and struggled with bulimia. It was definitely the worst year of my life and it got me kicked out of the group home I was in and into a mental hospital. At the time, I didn’t realize I really had it better than a lot of other people. All I knew was that I didn’t have my family anymore, and I didn’t have my sister. I was one of the lucky people who didn’t have it so rough in the system, but my sister did. She went through so many traumatic things and I know that if she can get through that kind of stuff, I can overcome anything.

My aunt adopted myself, my sister and my brother the summer before my freshman year. I was happy but all in all, it wasn’t the family that I had wanted and that I had dreamed of. It’s actually a very big reason as to why I wanted my own family at the young age of 19. My sister and I shared a small bedroom and my brother slept on the couch. My aunt knew that she didn’t have the resources or space for us, but she didn’t want us to be separated and I thank her so much for that.

I remember in the bathroom stall in my group home, someone had said something really mean to me. It really really got to me because I had nobody. I remember sitting there on the toilet and literally just thinking about my sister and that was the route to most of my depression. My sister and I are only a year apart and we are very close. We have always been there for each other. So losing her at the age of 13 was probably the worst thing that ever happened. Not only did I not have a mother figure, I didn’t have my wing man. We were only a part for a year, but my social worker and everyone in the mental hospital could tell that we were each other‘s rock. We both were in the same mental hospital but they did not let us see each other other than usual family visits. It killed me knowing that she was just a floor above me but I couldn’t speak to her, I couldn’t even talk to her if I saw her in the hallway. (We were the first set of siblings to be there at the same time). This was when I obviously could not cut myself so instead, I would rub my knuckles really hard on the carpet. Most people in that hospital get out in a year, it takes that long to complete the program usually. I got lucky and was “adopted” just a few months after being there, but my sister was there for over a year.

During our family visits, I would get to see my parents. My mother never self harmed in all the years that she had taken care of us, but every single visit there were more and more cuts. The scars literally covered her arms, her legs, her thighs. My mother was battling the same thing that I was for months and I didn’t even know. How do you expect to get yourself clean, when you’re constantly being triggered every time you see your mom? My dad has never been a self harmer, but he was bulimic. I guess I just fell in their footsteps without even realizing it.

I got with my boyfriend when I was 17 and was 135. (Smallest I ever was, but still a size 9 😒) I honestly let myself go, started smoking weed (so I had the munchies a lot lmao), and was put on birth control. My boyfriend has also always been very sweet and has always made me feel perfect. So for about a year, I was clean of bulimia.

I struggled with bulimia the beginning of my pregnancy and lost 35 pounds ( in two months) prior to getting pregnant. I was scared because I knew I was going to gain weight soon and I was puking non stop anyways. (I had morning sickness for 4 months). I was 190 before losing weight and got down to 155 so I wouldn’t be over 200 at the end of my pregnancy. I am now a whopping 190 and can’t puke even though I want to 😞 I am still glad I lost the weight prior to being pregnant or else I’d REALLY hate myself rn. Plus, I believe that helped me conceive 💕 I breastfeed and have to keep up on my caloric intake for my daughter ❤️ Needless to say, my daughter saves me in more ways than I could count. ❤️

I am starting to get my scars tattooed over, but ofc money is tight with just having a baby! 💕😌🌸

Don’t mind my stretch marks 😌

The one thing I’ve noticed is that time continues to go forward. Even though things are hard now, it can literally be a week until everything is better. It only takes one thing to change your whole world around and sometimes it’s good, and sometimes it’s bad. Closing doors open new ones and I’m happy that doors closed in my life and opened new ones. Addiction can run from the smallest thing like watching too much TV to literally killing yourself. It isn’t the thought of dying that was addicting, it was the fact that I was distracting myself from what was really hurting inside. The times where I did almost die, I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was just in so much pain that I cut deeper than I ever have before and I didn’t realize it.

My parents were great the first 11 years of my life, and that’s why it was even harder to go through everything that I did. My parents got into drugs really bad and lost their way. My father is several months clean now from heroin and we remain in contact. He has met my daughter and loves her to pieces and I feel she has also given him a reason to be clean. My mother lives 10 hours away and her sobriety is questionable. I haven’t seen her in several years and the last time I did, it was only for a couple of hours. We remain Facebook friends and she likes to act like she is involved over social media, so a lot of my friends/ acquaintances just assume she’s in my life. It tears me to pieces that she chose drugs and men over her four children. Her oldest was 18 when we were in the system, so luckily she never lost him.

🌸 Thank you all for reading! It ended up being much longer than I planned, so I apologize! Sometimes I just go on and on 🤦🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️