OK let me see if i can remember where I left off. I do believe i was blabbing on about how Tara and I refused to clean our trailer by ourselves, yea that sounds about right. So after what I'm pretty sure was a month of staying there my mom finally came home. Yes indeed and was clean and sober for the first time in a long time. God it was amazing, when we finally got back to our trailer when she got back we had normal family time that we spent together. We didn't have let's watch mom and dad get so messed up that they slur their words, fall over when they walk, and sooner or later just drool as a response to a question. Our lives were on track, or so I thought. We had a few good months and a clean house for a very short time period, soon my mom and dad went back to sitting their asses in bed all day barking orders at Tay and I, so therefore the house went to shit again. Then the pills started again, now I'm not really positive on when they started again but dammit, against all my hopes and wishes they did. I do remember a specific day though that i think triggered it.
For once in my so far miserable little life my parents allowed me to participate in a extracurricular activity for school, and I choose flag twirling. It was the greatest feeling in the world o finally be able to belong to a group, and me of all people, was actually surprisingly good at it. Now when i started twirling practice was always at the Spring Grove Intermediate school, but this time our coach wanted us at the high school where all the props were, so we could get a really good practice in and nail the routine, and I'm absolutely positive that I told my dad that before I left. Anyways practice lasted about two hours as usual then we packed up and everyone started to leave. I walked outside and waited a minute, and before the last girl left I asked to use her phone just so i could get a hold of my mother and make sure Richard was picking me up, but low and behold no answer! So I stood there for at least another hour, then eventually got a ride home, but couldn't tell you with who that part is all fuzzy, just know i got home.
When I arrived at home my mom was beside herself freaking out and pacing the floor. When I tried talking to her she just yelled at me and said "Your father hasn't come home yet and he's been gone for several hours, he left to go pick you up and hasn't been back!" I was shocked I just thought he forgot was all, and the poor guy was MIA, and now my mom was about to have a mental breakdown. So we waited, and waited, and waited some more, pretty much waited a long damn time when finally a knock at the door. Mom answered and it was Richards parents.
"Richard was in a car accident and he's at the hospital." Were the first words out of Paps mouth, no easing into it or anything just hit my mom with brick wall of info. What made it worse, and I feel really bad still to this day for my mom, his parents refused to take her to see him. They told her she could go when they pick him up, but until then her antzy ass could sit at home. Thank God we only had to wait until the next day before they went and got him, I was ready to tie my mom down, stuff a sock in her mouth, put tape around her head so it would stay and lock her ass in her bedroom just to get some piece and quite, she really was that off the wall batshit crazy that night.
Well Richard was home the very next day, and all was well in our happy little home and nothing bad ever happened again.
Wow I hope no one actually believed that, lord I crack myself up. Anyways not all was well, once he got home from he hospital is when the pill thing started and it was worse than before. Not only did I once again have to deal with that, but I had to live with Pap telling me all the time that it was my fault Richard had the car accident, if i wouldn't be running around at school on the weekends when I'm supposed to be at home this would have never happened. Then I was forced to quit twirling! So pretty much their abuse of drugs started because I was at practice that day, and i hated having that burden on my shoulders and thrown in my face everyday, all i have to say is depression is a bitch.
Also on top of dealing with dickheads, and drug abusers at home, I had to deal with them at school, but by this time I was at my limit of taking shit and going through what no kid should go through. I also forgot to mention that by this age children protective services at been to our house several times, probably because someone called and told them our house was full of animal crap, garbage, and my sister and i went to school smelling like a pile of shit and piss, but that's just a speculation. Not like I know the person personally. I was fed up with it all, I reached a breaking point, I could feel myself slipping from the last centimeter of a ledge i had left to stand on. The names I was called at school, the physical bullying that i went through, and several times told a counselor about but told me there was no evidence so they couldn't do anything, the blame for Richards accident, and insults from his parents, my parents constant state of fucked up, having to care for my sister. I was lost in a haze and slipping, there was nothing to grab onto it felt like, so i let myself go.
One day after school I went home and locked myself in my room, and i guess no one noticed i didn't emerge until the next morning because they were busy with their oxy, or hydros, maybe even some morphine. Anyways, I sat in my room writing a letter. It was what i planned to be the last thing i wrote in my entire life, a goodbye letter, or better yet known as a suicide note. I said goodbye to everyone in my family, explained why i did it, who i put the blame on, who should feel like shit because i was gone. I was angry, depressed and sad all at once and i wanted to make sure everyone knew it, especially my parents, and Richards parents. I wanted my mom to feel that empty spot in her chest because she lost me, because i had an empty spot in my life because of her pill addiction, and she let my sister and i both down. I finished the letter and placed it beside me on my bed so it would be easy to find, and i laid back onto my bed to reflect on everything for a minute, and before i knew it i was crying then i was asleep.
I had taken several pills, but nothing that would kill me come to find out just make me sick, I took ibuprofen, the 800mg ones. Yea i thought it would send me straight to the gates of hell, since you know suicide is a sin and all, but it didn't. I woke up the next morning like usual and took my ass to school. I still didn't feel any relief of depression and not succeeding in my own death didn't suddenly make me realize i have so much to live for, it pissed me off and i wanted it more than ever, so the entire day at school was plotting my own execution. It was close to the end of the day and i had finally figured it out, slicing my wrists, and i would make sure i did it deep enough that i definately bled out so i couldn't be revived. Perfect plan, until i decided to go talk to my counselor one last time.
He called an ambulance after he got done talking to me and they took me memorial hospital, where i was eventually visited by my aunt and her daughter and of course nana. I was being processed to go to a rehabilitation center to help me through my depression and any other mental issues i might have had. And after a few hours of waiting i was off in another ambulance on my way towards state college to a place called clear meadows.
till next time yall!!!
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