Where do I even begin? Wow, there's just so much that idk where to start. I guess we should start with my earliest memory, not of the happiest times. This isnt a happy story (tw abuse and suicidal thoughts). My earliest memory was from when I was about five, and I think I was complaining about something, as a five year would do. Then my mother punched my little ass in the face. Not like a simple hit, she punched my ass. That's where I remember it all started. I remember one time that she was beating me with all her might in the bathroom. I had to be about 7, this being my earliest memory of wanting to die. She was telling me to shut the fuck up or she would give me something to actually cry about. One time, I think she even sprayed me with bug spray,  but I'm not sure. My older sister told me that. Oh, and I have 12 siblings, but my mother hated me the most. I think this is because I look like my dad, who is a narcissistic alcoholic that beat my mom and did so many other things. My mom blamed her awful life on him, and she took it out on the next thing that looked like him, that thing being me. If only I looked more like my twin, who looks more like my mother. 
While all this abuse was happening at home, I was also getting bullied at school. I remember it was the first day of third grade and this boy whispered in my ear. He said "I'm gonna fucking kill you and your sister." Kinda outrageous for a 3rd grader to say, I know. Kids these days man. In 4th grade, two girls planned to push me into a wall, and because of this, I suffered a concussion. Of course the school didn't do much, and my mother never took me to the hospital to get it looked at. Maybe that's why I'm so fucked up, who knows.
Moving on to my middle school years. For the first 10 days that I was going to middle school, my family and I were being evicted. We lost our house when about 9 of us were still minors. All of us were living out of a car, and my dad was no help. I remember not going to school for 3 months and moving from place to place. We were about to go to a shelter, but we didn't because the shelter wanted to do a mental health evaluation on us, and my mother said no. Only if she said yes, then maybe I wouldn't be as bad now.
Eventually we found a home. It was in a shabby neighborhood. It wasn't as big and nice as my last house, but a hosue is a house. I remeber it was March 6, 2015 and I wanted to go back to school. I was 11, about to turn 12, and I was still having tantrums. Probably because of what happened with the concussion. My mother came up to me and started beating me up. I didn't fight back because she was 50 years old, beating up a 12 year old. Sometimes, I still have panic attacks when I think about it, and I go into a state of mania for days. The worst part is that my siblings used to tease me after it happened. They said that's why mom beat me up. It went on for years, but around that time, my preteen years, is when my mind broke. I think my little brain couldn't handle it anymore, and I started seeing things. Of course I never told this to anyone because I didn't want to be looked down on. I kept that to myself.
I remember being in 8th grade, scared of the dark. I wouldn't sleep unless my dad was in the room. I woke up one night to my mom and dad talking about putting me in the hospital. Worst feeling ever.
That's when I decided to join band at school. That had to be the best decision I ever made all throughout my high school years. I was a very successful band student. I think it was a coping mechanism, because my band teacher was one of the few people who treated me like a person. I also made friends who I still love and am still friends with to this day. They help me with the many many mental problems that I have.
Before I leave, I'll tell you one of the last reasons I went into mania. So recently I went away for half a year, and I returned home cause I didn't have anywhere else to go. No one wanted me lol. When I saw my mom after I came back, she was on a respirator, and I nearly cried. The reason I went into mania is because I was at conflict with myself. My abuser, the person who took away my childhood, somthing that I'll never get back, someone who gave me countless mental disorders, someone who gave me trauma, something that never goes away, is someone that I'm feeling bad for. She never felt bad for me as a kid. I screamed in pain when she was beating me for no reason. And I feel bad for her. Why do I feel bad? Anyways, this is getting too long. Tell me if ya'll want to hear more.