I was sexually abused between the ages of four and five. He groomed me and made me feel special, which meant a lot since my mom never had any time for me, my siblings bullied me, and my dad beat me. I ran to him knowing what would happen but I loved it anyways. 

I was in the hospital between five and six, nurses held me down as they poked me with needles. One pushed against my back, one held me ankles, and one pushed my head deep into the pillows while I screamed. I was full of tubes running from my body, I vomited often, and was poked with needles everyday. Sometimes I got to spend time with other kids but they all left before me. I was held in an operating room, tied down with bright lights all overly face. I screamed as they tried to put a line in. Across from me I saw gore and appendages. I saw a boy trying to be revived, I had a roommate pass in the night. Someone from make-a-wish offered to make my dreams come true and my mom said no and told them to give it to someone who actually needed it. 

I spent the next years back at home being hated by my siblings who often brought up the fact I was spoiled by all the special attention I got in the hospital. I was always at a babysitters house because my parents where never around, I was six years old when I made out with a seventeen year old who explored my body. 

I wasn’t allowed to sit in Sunday school because my Sunday school teacher said I was too stupid since I was homeschooled. No one liked my family because my dad was the pastor. We moved often and my siblings hated me, I was beaten up and bullied by my older siblings and made fun of by my parents. My little sister thought I was the coolest person though and I hated her. 

I was nine when we were living in someone’s basement and my mom would often take her anger out on me. She often beat me and when I asked why she would reply, “you know why!” When I was 12 I would cry because I had no one who wanted to be my friend. My dad would laugh at me make fun of me and encourage my siblings to do the same. I would reply by screaming and stomping my feet, my little sister would start crying and my mom would come in and beat me before sending me to my room for making my sister cry. 

I was always anxious, when my little sister has her first panic attack my dad said it was my fault and I need to grow up and stop being such a wuss. My dad often told me what was wrong with me and I don’t ever remember being praised. 

I once tried to open up about the hurt my older sister screamed at me because she said I never forgive her, even though I never mentioned her. My siblings came out of their rooms to attack me along with my mother. They told me I was a monster and I was born self centered and a horrible person. When I left I over heard them talking about how spoiled I was from my time in the hospital and I was rotten for it. I bit my arm and beat it until it was red. My mom saw and smiled at me and threatened to send me to the psych ward to punish me for what I did to my older sister.

I was fourteen when I started throwing tantrums, usually when my mom would verbally attack me. I would be blamed for everything, even when my siblings would attack me. My mom would beat me often for hurting my older sister, usually I would write in-depth apology letters all of which my sister would tear up, throw away and claim I was attacking her. My sister would sit at the dinner table during family time and tell lies about me, claiming I did so many cruel and evil things to her. She would discuss in front of me with a smile on her face while my mom said she had no doubt. When I stood up for myself once, my sister screamed about how I hadn’t forgiven her yet and my mom attacked me verbally about what a wicked person I was. When I was alone with my mom once, I asked why my sister couldn’t forgive me and my mom replied, “some things are unforgivable.” 

My brother would tell me how ugly I was, he would often complain about how sickly I looked and how fat I was. He would tell me I was only good for arguing and creating drama. 

No one wanted to be my friend because I was too much, too awkward, and too ugly. My teeth rotted, my hair went unkept, I ate my feelings daily in my room alone. I pretended to be someone else, I would dream of having friends and family that loved me. I would cry myself to sleep every night. 

My little sister loved me but I hated her, I didn’t know how to deal with the love and hate I felt. I would love her, let her cry in my lap, defend her and protect her from my mom but then I would attack her and ignore her often. Yet she looked up to me more than anybody, she was beautiful and popular, I was so envious. 

I was sixteen when I came out to my mom about the sexual attraction i felt towards guys and she told me that was unnatural and I was sobbing against God. I told her about how I masturbated once and she said that was highly unnatural and extremely sinful. She would have me come confess to her when I masturbated and would often bring it up when family fights happened. Smiling as she pointed out how I was much more moody when I was sinful. I wasn’t allowed to be friends with guys and I was allowed to like guys. From the time I was twelve my dad would compare me to a dog in the heat for having a crush, making fun of me and basically calling me a whore. 

I was eighteen when my mom started hitting me with a wooden spoon for fun. She found it so funny when I ran from her with fear. My siblings got into it too, often smacking my butt and laughing about it when I got upset. When I started crying one day my mom got mad at me, I was punished for not being a good sport. When a lady at church told me I was such a pleasant person to be around I went home and told my parents, so proud of myself, they replied that they only said that because they don’t know me. If anyone knew the real me they’d never want to be around me. 

I lost weight and got dental work done. I was finally pretty and my dad suddenly wanted me to cuddle with him and hug him. Both things he’d pushed me away for doing in the past. When ever a guy showed interest he would tell me they were abusive and never treat me as good as he did. I wasn’t allowed to date even though I was finally the right age. 

I was twenty one when I realized I had been abused, I came home furious and threatened to leave. I had been talking to people at college and they all made me realize the truth. My dad found out and told me that because I told people about being abused God was going to shorten my life for not respecting my parents. He also said I should be grateful for my mom because if she wasn’t there he would have done much worse things to me growing up. 

I repented of my sin and kept going to my dads church where he was now being attacked and on the verge of being fired. I opened up to a kind lady who had offered her ear and to comfort me, she ended up telling everyone everything I told her and my mom screamed at me for ruining dad’s reputation. If my dad got fired it was my fault. 

My dad started a new church and left the old one. I was now demon possessed and had to learn to let go of the demons that caused my depression and emotional issues. I went to another church for celebrate recovery and my dad found out I was talking about my past there. He told me I was ruining his reputation and that he could lose money and his job because of me. He came back later and told me I was allowed to talk about the past but I refused to and instead said in group that I misspoke. 

I finally went to a councilor at the college I was going to and I opened up about the sexual abuse as a child. I was in a psych class when I was triggered and the memories started rushing back. He called me a liar because I couldn’t remember the guys name or what he looked like. When I said I self harmed he replied saying that since he can’t see any marks I was lying about that too. He called me “one of those people” and reported me. When the drama was over I was never allowed to see him again. 

When I went to university I lived in fear and kept my head down. I had no friends, no boyfriends, and no girlfriends. I spent all my time on tumblr and could barely study. I was always in so much emotional and physical pain I just avoided everything. My dad forced me to take out more money than I needed in student loans so I could pay him and buy my family things. His excuse when I said no was always that I didn’t trust God enough.  

I remember one day my mom was attacking me. I went to my dad and he said even if I was telling the truth he would never believe me or take me side since my mom was his wife and I was just another person. He never ever made me feel like his daughter. 

I went through three long years of university, struggling each day and wanting to die until I graduated. 

When people get mad and want to blame me for being a “monster” because I have bpd I remember-this is what caused it. I have since held myself accountable and work hard to change, my motivation? Growing up in this household and knowing how much trauma and pain my actions hurt others. I am still working hard to be a better person, each day gets easier and easier. My only reason for this is to share a portion of my story. This is only one part, there was a lot more that happened in college and university. I will share that when I’m ready. For now this is what I need to share. 

