My Crazy Life

Hello everyone. I would like to discuss the struggles I've had in my life to see if I'm not alone. I feel that I've suffered a rather rough childhood, and it's caused me to suffer from depression, PTSD and a load of other mental illnesses as a result. Before you read this, I would like to give you a warning in advance. My life has gone in many different directions. Although some of the things in this thread may sound crazy or unbelievable. But what I'm about to type is my life 100% bit for bit. I'll leave out some of the more scary and graphic details of my past because they can be tough to write about. So in it's purest form, here's my life. The semi-censored condensed version.

I was born with kidney damage that nearly killed me at the ages of 9 months and again when I was 4. After an operation I had to correct the problem at 9 months, it took 5 years to recover due to complications. After nearly dying from the damage the second time, the doctors told my father that my life expectancy was to reach 12 years old. Luckily i've beaten it, but to this day, i still have the occassional issue.

In regards to my family, I lived in a rather interesting situation. My father isn't exactly the most truthful of people, and has a criminal record the size of Kansas. My older brother was a halfwit complacent, who did nothing but bully me and beat me throughout my childhood, along with my teenaged sister who began to spin out after leaving elementary. My mother worked hard for us as kids, but never could spend time with us during the week. On the plus side, she took us out every Sunday until I was around 8, when a very bad case of seperation in my household caused my family to split apart.

During the 2000's, my parents were in quite the violent custody battle. My father was an abusive drunkard at the time who would drink and get vicious, attacking my mother and hitting my brother and sister. During one of these spats, he beat me with a yellow pages for prank calling 911 after my older brother dared me to, and on a second occassion, he whipped me across the face with a hat when we were playing just because I was apparently, "playing like a boy." On other occassions, my father would lock me and my siblings outside of the house while he sat in the garage in rain, snow or shine just because he wanted us to get out more, yelling at my older brother and screaming at my sister in the process. I feel like my sister got the worst of his anger though in comparison to me and my brother, due to the fact that my older sister is my half sister and my biological father unfortunately is a racist bigot stuck in the 19th century with his mindset.

Eventually, the fighting between my mother and father got to the point where we were forced to spend two years of my elementary school career hiding in hotels to escape his wrath. He became more and more violent, hitting and beating my mother, brother and sister whenever we'd come home. His behavior began to put a toll on me and my siblings as well, as my brother's attacks began to get more presistant, and my sister suddenly started to get involved with drugs and alcohol. She started running away from home, attacking my mother as well, hitting me and my brother and even threatened me with a knife after I refused to allow her to use the phone while she was clearly under the influence of drugs. Even at the age of 9, i could tell my sister was falling apart. Even though it almost cost me my life, as she had swung the weapon at me multiple times and even struck the wall next to me and cut a slash into my shoulder and shirt, I refused to hand her the device, causing my mother to kick her out of the house for two full years until she matured. Luckily the wound wasn't deep enough to warrant stitches.

The fighting between the family began to get even worse as time went on. It eventually got to the point where my father had gone completely savage against us, resulting in the return of my sister and a restraining order against my dad. Being the bigot he is, he never followed the order and would break it constantly when my mom would leave for work by driving onto the property to talk to me and my brother. After a total of 96 police visits between 2000 and 2007 over my family's behavior, my mother decided to get away from my father and start a life with another man and us, her three kids.

Worst mistake she ever made.

My father is not only a racist and law breaking idiot. He's also a jealous warmonger. He quickly found out about my mother's new boyfriend through some people he knows in my city who see my family on a regular basis, but at first didn't believe their claims. Until one day, my mom, my siblings and my mom's boyfriend stopped by our old house while my dad was out working, (we were still in hotels at this point), with hopes of gathering some of our belongings to take with us to the hotel we were staying at then. Without warning as we pulled out of the driverway and headed down the road, we spotted my father pull in from behind us, apparently finished work early. My mom's boyfriend put the pedal to the floor to escape my dad, which ended up leading me on one of the most traumatic chases of my life as my father was attempting to ram us off the road, unaware that his kids were also in the vehicle and not just my mom and her new man. We drove for nearly an hour trying to avoid him by weaving in and out of traffic. Eventually he gave up and took off. But this incident was one of the first incidents of my life that would contribute to me being diagnosed with PTSD as a teen.

Eventually the two of them got back together (Mom and my real dad), and we ended up moving 45 minutes north of the city. At first things were nice, my sister had moved out again with her new boyfriend, my brother had started playing sports at school, and I was starting to feel a bit stronger, as throughout my childhood I was often weak thanks to my kidneys being in rough shape. I lived past my life expectancy and started my life in a new town. But shortly afterwards, my brother ended up diving into the world of drugs at school and began to become extremely abusive at home. It got to the point where I was not allowed to leave my room during summer holidays, winter break or even on weekends, thanks to the fact that both of my parents were never home and my older brother would claim the downstairs floor, attacking me if I ever came downstairs to do anything, even eat or drink. At this time, I'd become depressed thanks to my friends at school leaving me alone, and it became hard to the point where I considered suicide, leading to a plunge in my health again. I loved watching myself get hurt, often falling off my bike, walking through barbed wire, grabbing electric fences, climbing up trees only to fall off of them. The sensation of pain made me feel better for some reason. I began not to care about myself, hoping that I would get into an accident or die, playing games with fate many times by doing stupid things like go outside at night while coyotes were in the fields, going outside during severe thunderstorms hoping I'd get struck, jumping off of quads and dirtbikes going full speed just to spit up a little blood. (Surprisingly never got really that badly hurt. Just cuts and scrapes and bruises.) I got a thrill out of it. The lack of happiness, fact I spent my dad in a room painted completely white with nothing but a TV without channels and a laptop without internet, my social abilities were crippled to the point where I became angry and unable to talk to anybody properly besides my parents. It felt like I was going crazy.

And to add to the pile, the abuse started again from my father.

Living out of the city lead to six years of a circle of abuse, where my dad would erupt, my family would leave, my father would weasel his way back in and my mother would be back with him again. Fast forward a few years, and eventually we ended up losing everything thanks to my dad's inability to pay bills. On the streets we wound up by the time I was 16. It had gotten to the point where I no longer could live with my parents thanks to their financial situation, not because of intervention by family services or anything, bust because I'd become sick of living the lifestyle I did. The two of them were living in a truck, while my brother took refuge at my grandmothers. I decided to live with a friend of mine back out of the city that I'd made during high school, and ended up discovering that according to the Canadian Census, I'd been living with a false name my entire life!

Interesting turn, isn't it?

My father had apparently not been present to sign my birth certificate when my mother was in the hospital, due to the fact that he was at home taking care of my brother and sister, who were too young to come to the hospital, (Well my brother was too young anyway). This had lead me to actually be listed under my mom's maiden name for the first 16 years of my life, meanwhile I had been living unknowingly under an alias name according to the government. I'd been raised with my father's last name my entire life, until the day I discovered thanks to me getting a new copy of my birth certificate that my name had been a lie. It was the most shocking news of my life to be honest. Even more shocking than being told I was supposed to die at the age of 12 when I was a little kid. Because of the complexity of changing all of my "alias" name's identification over to my "real" name, I decided to get a name change and officially convert my last name to what it was supposed to be. I'm considering changing it back to my mother's name in the future if I get the chance, mainly because I kind of regret keeping my name the same after being given the opportunity to change it completely.

After this,and after I yelled at my dad over not signing my certificate in the first place, my folks found a house and we've moved roughly 6 times since I was 17, moving from rental to rental. I currently suffer from a few disorders, and my health is declining again, this time more than it has in a long time with my kidneys now hurting anytime I drink anything containing sugar. It's just another day in my life, honestly. At least unlike my siblings, I managed to graduate high school and am almost done college already at the age of 19. I suffer from constant pain and weakness as the result of my health problems, but I've learnt to tough through it bit by bit.

Well that's about it honestly. I couldn't put down some of the more "interesting" details of my life because they're very hard for me to talk about, but the main parts I've managed to collect for the most part.

-Dog