Copyright Juanita

My name is Juanita. I’m seventeen. I say I’m coping because I lost both of my parents before the age of five and a half. Never met my mom, dad beat us, forced us to eat butter and dog food only. He beat us, a hundred whoopings when we woke up. A hundred after school, and two hundred before bed. When we weren’t being whooped he made us stand with our noses against the wall and we weren’t allowed to use the bathroom. Finally after putting up with this, which started when I was around two, one of our neighbours called the cops and that night me and my brother and sister were taken from my dad. The judge gave my dad a chance to get us back and he refused. He refused giving up four hours for counselling to get us back. So I’ve been in foster care for almost twelve years now. I’m now living with my tenth family. For a while I was living with my aunt, even though I didn’t want to live with her because she too was abusive physically and emotionally. She kicked me out a lot because she didn’t want me. I had to keep her house clean by myself plus I was expected to bring home a 4.0 report card every time. I would accidentally miss a spot on a dish after washing them and put it away. She saw it and screamed ‘I never wanted you in the first place, I never should have adopted you, you’re worthless and I only did it for the money from the state.’ Her son raped me and she just said ‘oh well’, not only once either. I told my best friend I was committing suicide the next night and she told the police officer at my school so I didn’t even get to go ‘home’ that night. He took me to my aunt’s and tried to talk to her but she refused. He gave up and left. Then she started throwing glass decorations at me and my school books. My therapist from Dockside came over to try to talk to me. While she was over my aunt left and called her husband and told him she wasn’t coming home to him until I was gone for good. So instead of trying to get me help for my manic depression, bipolar and other mental illnesses, he called the cops on me and tried to get me arrested as an uncontrollable teen. The cop wouldn’t take me, because she said I wasn’t uncontrollable, which I wasn’t, but he wouldn’t take me to the hospital either so my therapist did. Then the hospital took me to a different hospital with a better observation floor. I was there for a month. That’s when my whole real family said they never wanted anything to do with me again. Now I have no contact with anyone in my real family. I’m alone. The hospital tried to find me a home but no one wanted me. Finally after trying three weeks every day they found someone in south bend so I moved again. I was cutting the whole time. I finally was put in another hospital and then residential. And that’s when I moved in with my best friend’s family. Which is where I am now. But before her I cut a lot. When I was in hospitals I still managed to find stuff and cut. And I got put in resraints many times because of it. And now as it seems better to everyone else its still hard and I still haven’t got over losing my real family. My grandfather died about one month ago and it’s hard. I never got to say goodbye, I missed his funeral. I want to cut so bad and am constantly fighting the urge. I’ve had dreams these past four nights of me giving in again. I can’t do this. The only family I have now is my best friend, her brother, her sister and her parents and that’s it. Why do I have to live a life full of misery? Why is God putting me through this? My wounds just won’t seem to heal, so much time can’t erase. If there is anyone out there who knows what I’m going through, I need your help. Even if you lost just one parent or both or even your whole entire family I need you. On December 5th it will be one year I havent SI’d, that is if I can make it through. I want to cut so bad. It takes away my pain and I want the pain to go away and that’s the only way I know to make it be gone.


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