Sharing my story pt.1 **trigger warning domestic violence & self harm**

I'm pretty nervous about sharing this, but here goes..

Okay so basically I grew up with super religious parents (room the point of it practically being a cult) and those beliefs were force fed to me and my brother and we weren't allowed to even think about other religions or ideas. Anyways, so they (parents) felt the need to go overseas and spread their religion which of course meant my brother and I had no choice in the matter we were 5 & 6. We left for the airport as soon as we were done eating my Barbie birthday cake. I was mad at them for taking me away. Fast forward to 2000 and my mum had a baby boy, but 10 days before his first birthday he passed away and I found his body. I had buried that memory so deep that I didn't remember it for about 13 -14 yrs and I desensitized myself as though I had never had a brother and he was just a memory. His death started an irreversible chain of events. We moved back to the States and buried him. My mother became very ill from all the stress and grief she was barely a mother anymore for a long time. But it was the first time my brother and I went to school, so even though we were unpopular we still loved going to school for the sole fact of finally feeling normal, granted it was a small private school founded by the church/cult but it was normal for us. Gradually my mum got better but her grief never went away of course.

Stay tuned for part 2..