Ok life story here we go...

Ok you have you ever been told that some people are just born bad seeds? Well I thought I must have been one of those "lucky" ones... I know now, that it is not that we are born "bad seeds", but more the less, unfortunately raised by those who just may have not known what they were doing. Who would have known that one's life and thoughts could be so dramatically different from another? I remember asking myself when I was young, "why am I so different? Why did I get dealt the bad cards? Why is it, that nobody understands me?" I still ask those same questions and I have been me for 23 years. As I move slowly towards treatment I am starting to unfold this human I can finally call me. My life has consisted of many hardships and triumphs, but still some days I cannot explain the unimaginable void that plagues me.

Let me describe myself a little. I am diagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). I am a 23 year old female. I have 2 children. I am in college (law). Right now as I am typing this I feel alright with life, but who knows if that will be the same in lets say 10 minutes. I wanted to tell a story, explain the disease in simple terms, but I just don't know how. My life growing up started with me being born to a single, unwed 16 yr old. She wasn't going to keep me. They had it all worked out for me to placed for adoption, the day I was born my grandmother was told by the hospital staff, that my placement was black-market and that she would have to do the "exchange" off of hospital grounds. She was furious, to make a long story short, my mother decided to keep me, because at the time my grandmother was an alcoholic and she did not want her to raise me. So I don't remember a lot from early childhood. I know that I was moved around a lot from sitter to sitter so that my mom could go to school and work etc. I was sexually abused many times growing up buy multiple people, the worst was my great grandfather, I told my mom what was going on, but at the time I think she didn't want to admit it and told me to forget and forgive. So knowing that I would have to go back there time after time, it happened and I said nothing just letting it go on as my mother had advised me was the correct thing to do. I don't remember much or choose not to, but the one thing I remember is always getting anything I wanted from the store as a way to not tell anyone about this little "secret" So I think in life that has impacted my image of men. This I believe has been my problem throughout life, I have either let people get too close and take advantage of me or I would show no affection at all.

I was a troubled child always getting kicked out of school. I had behavioral issues in almost every aspect of my life and no authority figure to put me in my place. Anytime I was told what to do, I looked at that person and did what I wanted. My mom had broken my trust from as long as I remember, and I'm pretty sure it began the day I was born. I see now that many of my actions were a way to seek attention. No one could control me. I was violent, going into violent rages for no apparent reason and as a small child I could remember thinking terrible things when I would get angry. I had many friends, but only kept a few close. I could remember that I always wanted to be in control; I manipulated people and had no regard for anyone's feelings including my own. My mom then moved me to a smaller town in 6th grade, I hated her for that (which most kids would) I could remember the day we were packing and I started to unpack all of the boxes she came and yelled at me and kicked me over and over until, she wanted me to say I would repack them, in my eyes I would take the abuse anytime over doing what someone wanted me to do. So I eventually managed to get up and find my way to my bike, I rode to my friends house and said I would never go home, but I did of course. So we moved and life got worse, I did anything I could to be a bad kid, I grew up everyday hearing the person I was to call "mom" say she hated me, everybody hates me, why did I have to be born and why did my grandma ruin everything at the hospital. She would have me baby-sit my sister everyday morning and night, because she could not afford daycare. She would not come home from work most nights until 9 or 10pm. I had no life I had no summer vacations, I had nothing. But in a way I sort of felt responsible for my sister and wanted her never to face what I did. As much as I hated babysitting everyday, I did not abuse my sister or treat her badly. When my mom would send us to my grandma and grandpas I watched and protected her like a hawk hoping she would not be abused. By the time I was 12 I had been involved with the law for running away, drinking, drugs, assaults, arson and many, many other things. I was in treatment by 13 I went to about 6 or 7 different facilities. Just before I turned 14 I came back home, I thought things would be good between my mom and I, although she still hated me, because by now she had lost her house and almost everything she owned "because of my behaviors and selfishness". I had no friends by the time I came back, everyone was so different and all hated me because of the things I had done to them when I would get angry.

I started at the regular high school and things seemed to be going alright for me, I found a new boyfriend and focused my life around him. A few months later he broke up with me, I went back into depression attempted to kill myself, got back into drugs and alcohol and back into my patterns. I left that school and went back into the alternative school. I was extremely promiscuous and always felt like if they didn't treat me the right way, or give me something; it was like I felt they owed me things for sleeping with them. (A behavior I now contribute to the sexual abuse). I was pregnant at 14 and a mother at 16. I was kicked out of my house and because my probation officer told my mom it was illegal to kick me out, moved back in. We did nothing but fight, over and over. My baby was born and we moved out when I was 16. When I was 4 months pregnant I started dating J. He was my everything or so I thought. It all started as small put downs to lower my self esteem, he worked on me for a while and pretty soon had a pretty strong hold on my self image. I hated myself and he would tell me over and over if I ever left him that I would be sure to end up alone or dead. It didn't matter I loved this man. He was constantly in and out of jail. Early on he was never physically abusive but it slowly grew and grew. By the time I was 18 I was pregnant with my son D, J and I had broken up and gotten back together probably 100 times by now and his abuse was more violent now. The police would make visits and I would lie to them because I feared what might happen if I didn't. He was stabbed in Jan 2000. I had hoped he would die; they were giving him his last rights when I arrived, but like always he survived. The abuse was worse and worse. D was born and the abuse seemed to subside. J ended up going to jail for about a year.

During that time, I was happy and then I turned to drugs. I did ecstasy for about 7 month's straight everyday, all day. I had people convinced it was therapeutic for me and that it was a good thing. If you have ever taken ecstasy you're probably asking how she lived on that. Simple it provided me with happiness and although there were many negative side effects nothing was better than feeling happy. I quit and never have been the same. When J got out we got back together and the abuse got worse and worse. I couldn't hide it from people now, because he didn't care where he left the marks now. During this time I had seeked counseling for anger mgmt because I figured it was my fault went and saw a therapist at a clinic where I spent many of my juvenile years after a few sessions and tests, I was told that he couldn't treat me and that I would need to see someone who specializes more in personality disorders. I was told BPD and just never really understood what he was trying to say I had, but as far as I new, it was someone I had put trust into and they were giving up on me too. So I just never did anything with the diagnoses after that. I eventually ended up in the hospital and J and I haven't been together since. I recently started investigating BPD and what it was. After reading up on it and hearing examples from other people, I was shocked. OMG there are people out there who see things the way I do. Exaggerated, paranoid, impossible images and thoughts, everyday of my life I woke up and hated myself wondering when it would finally be my turn to die. Never understanding why I just couldn't make friends, taking everything so personally and not doing normal life activities. The paranoia I felt was like an uncontrollable monster keeping me back from finding me, knowing me.

I don't think I ever loved myself or even knew who I may have been. In the last year my life has spun around, I went on a road trip that changed my life, left the man who abused me for 6 years, was laid off from my job (the job I thought I would be at forever), started back at school, regained some of my dignity through it all, I finally can look into the mirror and see who is looking back, I finally for once in my life love and care about myself. I am learning to teach my children what affection is and really learning about my little wonders that I created. Everyday is an up hill struggle, trying to find the correct DBT group. I still just do not fit in and who knows maybe I never will, but at least I know that finally knowing that this disorder has a name, I feel like my life is finally just beginning.

I was born July 20th 1975 to parents who were too young to have kids. They were selfish and had no idea about raising a child. My mother didn’t even want to get married but her father told her on her wedding day she better not back out of it, she had no choice now.

My father was an avid sports man playing soccer and cricket for the state, and he also dived for the state of Victoria. He played AFL and was asked to join the State league as it was at the time but he enjoyed his alcohol too much and didn’t want to give it all up for something that was of high distinction. he was and still is a train driver. My mum well did nothing except follow him around and be submissive to him and this continued for their marriage.

I was born on the day they were told. Perfect delivery, perfect timing, and the perfect baby. Things i believe were fine, but as i got older things started to happen. My grandfather, maternal grandfather used to come over all the time. He used to have chocolate frogs in the shirt pocket. and he would say if you want it you have to sit on my knee and come and get it. but that is not all I’d get. He used to like to play around while i was on his knee. I WAS ONLY 3, when this started. going to kindergarten at age 4, they knew something was wrong because I wouldn’t let any men near me and id always want to sit on my own when it came to milk and fruit time. if anyone came to sit at my table up id get and move so i was on my own. i was and am a loner nothing has changed.

They sent me to a place called Travencore to be assessed for problems at the Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne but they said there was nothing wrong with me. I WAS NORMAL!! But the abuse continued from him and then my dad started. He started to hit me and hit me hard, with clenched fists, belts and wooden spoons that he used so hard on my body that they broke. i was only by this stage 5.

my brother had been born and when i was 5 he was 3. no one was allowed to hurt him. NO-ONE. They had to answer to me. Even if meant that i had the shit beaten out of me I didn’t care I didn’t want my brother getting hurt.

by the age of 6 my parents had broken up many times by now due to my fathers infidelities and alcohol abuse, not because of the abuse dished out to me and the abuse from my grandfather continued but it wasn’t as frequent.

At the age of 8 we moved to a town called Ararat, this was hell, I ended up somehow with a friend of mine becoming victim in a paedophile ring. Being passed around between two guys. One who lived up the road from me and one a friend of my dads who he worked with. The one up the road used to harass the hell out of me peering through my window every night ....tap....tap....tap, turning off the water and electricity scaring the hell out of us all, watching every thing i did, following me everywhere. the other guy at our home, entering my home giving me piggy back rides so he could touch me in places that he wasn’t supposed to and laughing it off like a big joke in front of everyone and threatening me not to tell anyone. Watching me with his creepy eyes everywhere I went. When we would go to there place then get me into a dark room and close the door and pull up my skirt or take down my pants and do nasty things. It never ended. We would go to their block of land for a bbq and he chased me around with a chain saw that was going. My parents thought it was a huge joke. I WAS 9 YEARS OLD. He used to watch me go to the toilet on the property as it was a porter loo with a sheet around a tree for supposed privacy. i was never left alone by him. EVER.

Then my mum left not my dad. I hated her for this. Not only could they not protect me, she had to leave and right when I got my period at 9. I HATED HER FOR THIS. When she came back there was no way I was living with her so I was sent to Melbourne to live with family. I was very angry at 9 and was tormented and took it out on everyone. I threw things and smashed things, screamed, yelled, cried everything. Was taken to another shrink but sat there with my fingers in my ears as everyone lied to me and told me we were going somewhere else special. I returned home but still refused to stay with HER. So I was put in government care. The anger got worse and i trashed my room. I was moved to Ballarat. on the way the two men tormented me telling me the place was like a jail and it had bars on the windows and I would be locked up at night. They were emotionally abusing me. Terrifying a 10 year old girl who had been through hell already. I turned 11 while I was in this place and was raped by two guys while in there. I couldn’t tell anyone because it would have been my fault. no girls in guys rooms and vice versa. I would have been blamed for it. One night my anger got so bad it took 8 men to hold me down to calm down. That’s how bad my anger used to get at that age: 11. By this stage I was now a ward of the state. My parents had no control over me. I was in government hands. But the abuse continued.

Eventually I moved back home at 12, I had no friends i never did, because of my father, because of my mother, because I was always being moved around. There was no stability. I was picked on because I was tall for my age and didn’t fit in. I was the clown of the class and tried to make ppl laugh by making me look silly. I wanted ppls approval so used myself to look silly.

After I moved home, the abuse from my father started again, and this time it was worse, he beat the living shit out of me. I was always unconscious after a beating. The good thing was now though at 14 I had my rowing as my anger outlet and I used it wisely, I rowed twice per day 20km I rowed to get it out and it worked as it got me to national level and out of the house away from him and her every night and every weekend. But I did still cop a beating the last one was when it was 16, he nearly killed me. But he didn’t.

My own self harm started when I was 11, I tried to slit my wrists when I was living with some friends, my parents separated yet again. But i didn’t do it.

I had hurt my back in a serious car smash in 1991 and became addicted to velum and started doing on the pain meds for fun. I had forgotten about all the childhood abuse until I got a phone call from a police man asking me about the paedophile ring in 1993 while I was studying my final year of high school. he ruined that year, as my depression kicked in with a vengeance. Pressuring me to make a statement do this and do that. Do the police ever relies what they are doing to the victims?? I don’t think so.

I finished year 12, and got the courage to make a statement. I did all this in secret not telling any of my family. i then moved to Melbourne again for university studies and my problems with bpd really hit home hard. Every dsm trait began to show up in my character but it was not until 1996 that i was diagnosed. in 2000 i was raped again because i trusted someone I shouldn’t have. i trust to many ppl and that now has to stop because I always get hurt and now if you have read my life story I’m sure you can understand why. Yes you may have had worse but it is all relative and we all deal with our experiences differently. To me I hate my life from what i allowed all those ppl to do to me, whether I was a child or not and had no power to say stop or walk away, I don’t care something could have and should have been done to stop it. It has destroyed any chance of me having any relationships in my life now. I don’t trust anyone i think everyone has a motive to hurt me in some way and that is why I question everything and everyone that asks me something it is nothing about you it is me and I only hope that one day ppl will understand that about me. i hope that all of you who read this will now understand that about me. IT IS NOT ABOUT YOU IT IS ME.

I do so much appreciate this site and I do so hope to high whatever that I haven’t upset, hurt, scared, triggered or turned anyone against me. it always does, but I don’t want to be judged by things that were done to me, I haven’t done any of this to myself. it was those crazy mother f---r’s that did it to me. And now I have to live with their burdens and the ppl around me have to live with my burden as long as they have anything to do with me. if you want my burden than talk to me if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore I fully understand just post it below so I know. I appreciate honesty.

Hey everyone,

I decided to post my story to you all, so that you would be able to understand me better. ***takes deep breath*** this may be lengthy....

Alrighty... To understand me, you first have to understand my parent’s backgrounds... First, My mom-- She grew up in a very abusive household. She have about 4 or 5 stepfathers, and they all were abusive. They beat her and her mother, brothers, and sisters. One of them shot her pet dog and her pet chickens in front of her face as a young child. One of her brother’s allegedly raped his sister, and another one attempted to hang his other brother. My Mom is depressed, though she says she isn't. She is very sick and in major pain. She takes between 25-40 pills a day, depending on what her doctors prescribe her. About 12 of those pills are pain pills. She has a mystery illness that no doctor can identify.

Now, my Dad... My Dad is a Vietnam Vet. He had post traumatic stress disorder and bipolar disorder, as a result of Vietnam. He was in and out of the mental hospital throughout most of my childhood. Living with a Veteran with mental problems is not easy, as you can imagine. I can recall one time when I had to prevent him from jumping out of the car, because someone cut him off. I remember him beating my mother, I remember him hitting my sister with a hard plastic dolls head on Christmas day. I have very few memories of my dad during this time, but these are the most predominant.

One of my earliest memories has to do with my grandmother. The last man she married had beaten her up so badly, she was almost dead. I remember the broken windows, the blood all over the shards of glass and the white walls. It is a vision that is forever etched in my memory.

As a child, at the tender age of seven, I was already suicidal. I would take the butcher knives out of the kitchen drawer and hold them to my wrist. I have been severely depressed since this age. As I grew, I had a lot of problems controlling my emotions. There were plenty of tears shed throughout my childhood for trivial reasons, but I could not control it. When a teenager my anger problems began. I remember one time slamming my boyfriends (at the time) locker in his face because I was angry at something he said; I cannot recall what.

At 19 I was sexually assaulted. I will say it was by a "friend" of mine, who tried to rape me, and being unsuccessful, chose to do it another way that I will not discuss here.

Now I am 27. I've had seizures since I was two years old. A few times in my adult life, my father and I got into arguments, which once resulted in him choking me, and another time resulted in him striking my head against some concrete. He denies the choking, and says the other time was completely under his control, that he knew he wasn't going to kill me. I find this much worse. For that means he was trying to take control of me, and bring me down.

That is my story. I have borderline personality disorder, chronic depression, and social anxiety disorder. I'm convinced that at one time I myself had some sort of post traumatic stress. I used to have flashbacks of the events above. That’s my story.

I dont have many vivid memories of my childhood but what i do have is not positive, and what i keep digging up scares me even more sometimes. At age 6 my grandafather sexually abused me, i can only recall one occosion this happened but I recal every incy detail about it and i relive this too many times a day. my parents were always arguing as a child, we lived in a good house, all 3 kids rooms were at the back, mum&dads at the front it was big, fun...at times. I did gymnastics and was by all fronts a happy child. but even i knew back then that i was sad and didnt know WHO i was or WHAT i was. I remember looking into the mirror even when i was young just staring into my eyes, trying to ask ymself or find out somehow, someway WHAT I WAS? WHO I WAS? if I WAS really ME....I still struggle with that one.

I have a younger sister shes about 3yrs younger, and a brother 11months older. From ago 6-7 till about 9-10yrs old the memories are vague of times but i rmemeber incidents my brother started visiting my bedroom at night. At first he just wanted to sleep with me, said he wanted to be close to me. I know we were only 11months apart we were both kids. After a few months he started to touch me, at first i let him, id didnt phase me too much as wrong as that seems i was 6 or 7 it was new to me too, but i got to the point werei started to feel very ashamed and i told him to stop. HE started comming in more and more every night and started to make me take my pants off and then my undewear, I didnt want to do it but even though he was only a year (11mnths) older then me he was stronger and yes he did have power over me. Most people TOTTALY discount what happened with my brother because of the age, they tell me that it couldnt have been abuse, that its not possible cause he was young too. My father was very secually active and i remember him having magazines and things that my brother would find and hide in his room, i know my brother was reading these (or looking at the pictures) even at age 8-10 etc....my psyc now says thats probably were he got his ideas from. I dont disagree with him. My brother came to my room almost every night for the 3 years we lived in that house. Unless i was making an excuse to be out of the house. Like i said at the start it wasnt much, then it got worse, it DID become forcefull, i DID say NO and i did have my underwear ripped of me on occasions, hed push himself against me. I dont remember having full intercourse with him, maybe it happend i dont know but i remebmer lots of things i dotn want to remember adn i DO remmeber saying NO. Isnt this waht makes it wrong?

My parents split when i was 11yrs old and we moved house after a while, dad had had an affair and things wernt the greatest so i think it was the best thing that they all moved, dad was phyiscally a violent person. I dont ever see waht he did to me as abuse but as i recall it now apprently hitting us kids the way he did and yelling the way he did was wrong? but its all i knew so i didnt think so. Id been bad i deserved to be hit.

**On a side note...when i was about 15-16, one day he flatly came out and told us all he was never going to hit us children (my brother, sister and I) ever again, to this day he hasnt...i dont know what happend but im thankfull for that.

Anyway..we moved housse, a tottaly new area. I never had many friend but it took alot to adjust to a new school. I had to leave my Gymnastics Club id been at for over 5years it was the love of my life, i tried to re-join but couldnt get settled, so instability began, i started music, but stpped that too. I got teased alot at school. I made up an imaginary friend at one point to try keep myself comapny. i can not recall the name but i know it kept me company during lunch hrs. What friends i did have i never felt i could trust..cause they always ended up teasing me or dumping me for something or someone else.

I went to highschool and wasnt happy I focused on work work work..my brother had turned 13 (a year ahead of me) and for the years to follow he started taking drugs (we think just majijuana but thier were needels found its never been proven) but his behaviour started to dictate our hourshold, he became verbally abusive and VERY psycially violent, expecially on nights mum would go out and leave us home alone (she had to work to pay the bills or see her friends at times) He would hit us, scream at us, i think my sister got most the phyiscall violence, i mean we always had the brusies, as we got used to it my sister and i used to scream and cry to scare him away, i used to pull his hair cause i knew hed hit me but leave my sister alone, we started to lock him out of the house, their were many times it was terifying. from years 7-9 at highschool i was an A grade student with a frew friends and a few problems but my brother behaviour domianted a constant sadness, my mother wasnt happy either and she knew little of how to raise us espcieally with my brother the way he was.

Half way through Yr9 i got sick and stopped doing anything....I Suddenly didnt go to school, got teased and made mum let me change schools, i went to a Private Catholic School. It was a good thing in the long run but i wasnt prepared for the sudden influx of teasing again. I was never a popular kid. I kept to myself. I went to a new school strict uniform, church requirements, strict teachers it was better for me but i wasnt used to the discilplin. it took the whole first 12 months of kids taunting me, running from me, the NEW girl getting teased till I got some new friends who i thought liked me for me. I still have ONE great friend from school but thats all. I spent many lunch times in toilets just sitting alone or crying..it was hard but it felt safer then my old school and i was further away from my brother and my old friends and old problems.

It was at about this time i started to feel even worse, or maybe it was now that i started to NOTICE i was feeling crappy. I started to scratch myself but it never meant much> I remember a time in primary school (aged 9 or so) were a friend and i went along the school fence banging our wrists and seeing who could bruise the most and it felt good to me but she was crying at the end....scratching was the same it felt good but i did it alone.

When i found friends it kinda stopped..but i never talked much> I got to yr 11 (i was 16) 2 years of school to go, my brother has moved out, stolen cars, abused my mother and me and sister more. my sister had got into a good school for smart kids, my brother had moved out and was living in god knows were houses to house, we at once staged had to go to court to get him to stay away from hurting us. I started to withdrawl. i was working part time and was doing great at work full time school and 30hrs a week at my job, anything to stay away from the house but stay busy. I changed jobs half way through yr 11 and went to antoehr one with the same boss ( i had been promoted as far as i could go and i needed a change) Yr 11 went and i felt down and self harmed a little, i started to eat lots and lots too, my comfort..mum was not really helping much, i dont think she knew how. but i was alive, working and staying busy. my new part time job was 1hr from home so i was able to escape for hrs and hrs travling too and from work alone it was a good realse.

yr12 came nad i was a mess...it was the final year of school and i had no idea what i was doing. I Studied business subjects (waht my family wanted me to do) I started having panic attacks (at that time i had NO IDEA) what they were..i was haking lots, my best friend stopped talking to me for a time abnd then realised how far down i was going and wrote me letter and we got talking again, i started talking to a teacher about things, i got consideration for disadvantage at school if i needed more time cause i couldnt conentrate or think much. Yr12 passed a bit of a blur really..my sister had moved out to live with dad, my brother had a girfriend that was pregnant and was moving around, mum had a job but wasnt entirly thier but she did wnat she knew. I just floated by..got my resutls at the end of the year was glad it was over but fell in a whole. I still had my job in the city and began using it as an escape, i also used the 1hr trip too and from work to self harm every day. It became routine. I started to scare myself i started to write things and i ended up writing a 12page note/letter and gave it to my uncle in January 2002. (I finished school in 2001 - I was 17yrs old).

A few weeks later my uncle was supporting me and he called a dr and i was put on lovan, it did nothing i was getting worse he called Dr again and then told my mum and then i saw a psyciatrst, i was a week later put in hopsital. I had around 5-6 addmisions to hospital over the next 12months, i left my job, i attempted sucidea many times...i landed in emergency rooms a few times. i was SECTIONED INVOLUNTRY twice one of these was just before chirstmas and i spent christmas of 02 in hospital too yet was not in-voluntry at this time. i was thier cause if i couldnt stay thier i would be locked in again, so the hospital addmisons rose, my first psyc questioned BPD disganoses gave me many meds, anti-d's labeled me depressed and possible psycotic symptoms that im sure i must have had...i dont remmeber much of 2002 but it was fuilled with chaos. I even had my 18th birthday in hospital. Also went for my drivers licene test with my instructor picking me up from hospital.....I got another job at one stage near christmas inbetween bouts of hospital addmissions and overdoses but left that too. In July of 2002 (i was 18) I started talking on the internet alot (*this will explain my fear of net forums and chats and stuff i guess*) but i met a guy, we didnt talk to long, i was young..implulsive and i decided that since we lived close we could meet, hwen he asked me i said yes. it was mid July, we met near a shopping centre *lots of people* then things went bad and i wont go into detail but we ended up back at a motel and i was raped. I remember every detail as if it was yesterday and the memories haunt me every single day, i can see his face and if i drive past it (only done that twice in over 2yrs) I cry and am a mess and cant do it, last time led to more self harm..i am not over it, and never will be. I tried to tell the Dr and he sent me to a rape person and i didnt get any kits done cause i was too scared and didnt go, i did talk to someone at one stage but was toos cared cause i had been threatened to not talk so i havnt really talked to much about it, too scared still.

Jan 03 came around, my brother and his gf had a baby , then in feb i got a new job as a manager at hungry jacks..id been out of hospital for over a month, i had a second psyc and it felt ok...but not right still. In march i ended up back in hospital for a few weeks, then came out went striaght back to work. In may i decided i needed a change and quit my job and took a job as a NANNY (Au-Pair) in Netherlands. I left in June 03 and spent 2 of the best weeks of my life in Paris with my father then went to start a 12mnt job with a family and thier 3 young boys in Netherlands. I was their for a little over 4 months, we started to argue lots, they saw i was depressed, my self harm esculated, i had stopped eating much and it had become a problem to them that i was throwing up meals. Yes i developed an eating dissorder, while i dont know the whole story behind it as yet I know in paris my father said i was disgusting *ill never forget this* but i know i was over weight adn it suddenly felt like the ONLY THING in my life i could CONTROL and i started to control it with starving myself, and throwing up family meals at dinner time. They contronted me, thingsgot chotic and i booked a plane trip to USA and ended up staying not far from WAShington for 3 months with a close friend. my self harm was bad, i was depressed, i was unstable and i had many more experiences in USA good and bad, the friend i stayed with was like a second mum but a day before i was meant to leave (VISA ran OUT ) she tried to suide and i had to call 911 and it was a mess and i have bad memories of leaving USA, but i do have good memories of SNOW, Thanksgiving< Chirstmas and many other things, just like the good times in paris. Netheralnds taught me lots but i was depressed and came to usa a mess, i left USA on January 10th 2004.

I came home over 30kg lighter then when i left 7 months or so earlier, this raised alramrs for my family and i still battle the alrams cause i am stuck with my ED now and i want to loose more, but thats only part of it!

I came home in FEB I took my job back as an assistant manager at hungry jacks, i was so pleased to have it back. things looked good, my niece (brother daughter) was 1yr old now and i missed so much of her and spent lots of time learning more about her, i was kind of happy. It was so odd being home again but it was like a fresh start, i even stopped me medication *BOMB*

APril 04 came around, i was working 50hrs a week, living with mum again, and it all got too much i took an overdose and after over 12months out of hospital i was re-admited. I took the overdose at work, i dont enve remember why to this day, but i was not too well, but somehow i knew it wouldnt kill me, maybe its cause i needed to cry for help, but deep down somedays i wish it did work. I was stuck in Emergency room for 3 days cause my psyc id had befor i left overseas said i was fine but the hosptial refused to let me be realeased so 3 days later i got a new psyc and was sent to a new hosptial. this psyc is great. he has helped me so much since April alone this year i think ive come further then when i first started seeing drs a few years ago. I stayed in hosptial for 2 weeks, came out adn went back to work. I have defered my uni degree and focus on work entirly. ive had a pay rise already, my boss and i get alone well. I really like my job most days even though it is stressfull and i am alwas sorry for the fact i tried to end it at work, but i have my job and it takes up 50-60hrs of my week but im glad im kept busy. Its my life now and i strive for perfection at work. I see my psyc every friday. After a few meetings in hospital he confrimed the BPD Diagnosis without much of a flinch. He also keeps track on My eating, but im FAT so it doenst matter to him. He is very strict on trying to stop self harm, it has become an issues but also an issue that is getting better, he wants to stop but im getting thier. I also go to a DBT (Dialectic Behavioral Therapy Program) treatment for BPD every friday, it is great and it is helping me lots. So I see the Dr every friday, i havnt attemped to take my life since April this is a big stint for me, spec considering last few years, im rather impulsive, i have issues to deal with but im trying to come to terms with things. After much work i moved out...and i currently live with my brother *Scary as that is...it works some days* but he is 21 and split from his girlfriend still sees his daughter but we both cant live with our parents. Things might change soon but dont know. My life is in turmoil but im working to get it out, i think flashbacks of abuse, self harm issues things like that take time. but ill get thier.

Im working on No self harm...Im working on myself and i hope things get better. I hope...chaos is horrid...

**OMG this has been long..if uve got to here, thanks**

MY LIFE.....Or a Skit of it........

Its funny really…a lot of people say that they have childhood memories…but the earliest I can remember is from when I was about 9 years old and I was at junior school and my whole class wrote letters to my dad who was in the Falkland Isles in the army because I came into school upset because my daddy was going away for 2 years.

Let me tell you a bit about myself…. My name is Jodie I am 19 years old and I live in Swindon. I have been diagnosed with clinical depression about 4 months ago but ive lived with depression for 5 or so years. Life for me used to be hell…when I was 12 my dad came out of the army and Him and my mum split up. Me and mum only moved 2 miles away but it still took its toll on me. Dad became depressed and drunk and in a lot of debt from the divorce…. everything in their marriage was in his name and my mum being the way she is claimed she had nothing to do with any of it. She met Her new boyfriend through work…he also worked on a local radio station so was quite a celebrity so of course being young and innocent she taught me to love him and hate dad. School was a nightmare…I used to get shared between mum and dad I’d spend the weekend from Friday -Sun night with mum on 1 week then go to dad’s Monday night…. then to mum’s Tuesday…. dad’s Wednesday…. mum’s Thursday…then spend the weekend with dad then do the same till I spent the weekend with mum again so I was back and forth all the time….I was the only person in school that had 2 bus passes because I needed to get on 2 buses which made me feel CRAP because I wasn’t allowed 2 and it wasn’t normal to have 2. I used to get in so much trouble for forgetting books and homework because id left it at the other parents house and my mum and dad would never ever make it easier for me if I had forgotten stuff, baring in mind I was only 13 years old…clearly at the height of my responsibilities. I was a nightmare generally as well at school…I was cheeky and rude but not because I wanted to be…because it was how I felt and teachers were my only outlet of my anger…a few teachers picked up on this and I became friendly with them but others just had me moved class. I could never concentrate at school because I was too busy on planning where I was going after school (what house) and what I needed to take with me and I was never truly focused. It used to be embarrassing at my dad’s because I never had any clothes there so I used to have to wear my school uniform out to play because I refused to carry round a suitcase of clothes round at school all day. i also remember a day my dad picked me up from school and tried to kidnap me and take me to his mum’s in Yorkshire.

I must have been about 14 at my first time I cut myself. I was cutting some bread and my knife slipped and slashed open my wrist…at first I was scared but then I realized how good it felt and how I wasn’t crying but smiling…so I took the knife and did it to the other wrist. It was brilliant. I was happy for the first time in a long while, my friend heather saw when we were out playing and she said she had always wanted to cut herself and next thing I know she had started cutting herself too. After that I went down hill really…my dad used to physically and mentally abuse me and it was getting worse and worse so my cutting was the only thing in life I controlled. I started coloring my hair purple and spending all my time in my room when I was at both houses which made my parents more angry with me…they also used to slag each other off too me and make me pass on messages….my dad would purposely leave out letters from debt collectors saying that this was all my fault because I was here and if I wasn’t here he could just go away and leave Swindon and all his debts would go and whenever I said to my mum that I just wanted to spend time with her during the week to make things at school easier for me she said " I need a break from you sometimes…your too much hard work for me to handle and I cant let your dad get off easy without having you" So I got on with it…I was always unhappy and then one day at school I finally snapped…luckily a teacher was near by… and asked me to explain to her what was going on…I said how I was afraid to go to my dad’s tonight because im fed up of him being violent and told her that id slash my wrists open if I had to go there… A friend who lived near the school took me in…my dad went absolutely mental and phoned my mum and threatened to kill us all. The next day I got such a telling off from my mum and she asked me why I didn’t want to go to my dad’s so I finally plucked up the courage to tell her and she told me to stop being so mellow dramatic and I was just making it up…. that sent me on the down hill spiral. After that I decided to trust no-one…I started carrying a knife with me so I could cut whenever I needed too…I used to skip school so I could cut myself and then I’d go into school late but always said I missed the bus. When it came to staying at my dad’s I would drop my bag off after school and return back there at 10pm at night and go to bed…I would never be round him….in my vision that was the only way I could survive.

Luckily he decided to kick me out on my 16th birthday…it was like a god send …of course this caused more uproar because my mum didn’t want me either but she didn’t have much choice. By this time my mum and her boyfriend had got a house together… I was studying for my GCSE’s but not doing a very good job of it…me and my friends were getting drunk every night smoking every night and then I would go home and cut myself but my mum didn’t even care. Luckily my dad had disappeared out of my life and as I left school got a job and started college things looked up. Then my mum decided she wanted to buy a bigger house with her boyfriend 6 miles outside of Swindon…. I had just got my education, career and life sorted and she drops this on me…. I didn’t really think much of my mum’s boyfriend as it was and the fact that he was moving me and my mum away from our friends upset me….I was so upset I would have to get 2 buses to college because I lived so far away….the day after I moved I received a text message from my friend saying that our friend Paul had died. My heart crumbled….a member of my tight social circle had been killed in a car accident and there was nothing I could do…I had spent the last 2 years if my life in this social circle and had become the caring mother figure of our group and now someone important to us had died and I wasn’t there to help anyone and I couldn’t comfort anyone and my mum wouldn’t take me to see my group of friends because she had to watch Eastenders. That pretty much summed up how my mum always felt about it me….like I wasn’t important and she would never put herself out for me…because looking after me was too much of a strain…id never been arrested id never taken drugs but still I was the worst person to her in the world. I was helpless…stuck somewhere where I couldn’t get out of. I was too young to drive so it went back to the cutting and drinking again to be in control.

By this time I had quit college and worked as much as I could but spent the rest of the time in bed…mum just called me lazy and I took no notice. I was always traveling into Swindon on the bus and became involved with a bus driver…he was 32 and I had just turned 18 now….looking back on it now I was so stupid but I thought that he really loved me but it was just sex….rough dirty sex and I later found out it wasn’t just with me…but as soon as I told him about my cutting tendencies he left me. Even a sad old man didn’t want me…to make it worse I had just had a miscarriage on his bathroom floor and he just told me to clean it up so he could take me home. I took it as I normally took things and just dealt with it in my own way…cutting…by this time work had offered me a full time contract so that kept mum happy. I started to get the feeling that my mum’s boyfriend new too much about me and thought that maybe he was messing round with people (girls) on the internet but just got on with life….I met a lovely guy through a good friend at work and my mum excepted him and let him stay over with me (I was 18 and paying rent) but I ended up finishing with him on new years eve 2002 because he was too nice too me and I couldn’t deal with it. At this point I started sleeping around with men and women desperately trying to find myself… I was doing a really good job until Feb 03 when I found that my mum’s boyfriend had a hidden CCTV camera in my air vent in my bedroom and it was linked up to his TV Video and computer…I found this by going in the Study of my house and turning on the TV and seeing my bedroom. I was shocked…I felt so violated…I immediately rang my friends and ex’s that have ever stayed in my bedroom and apologized to them…and luckily a friend (who is now my boyfriend) put me up for the week and gave me a chance to calm down…I then made the decision too move out…I couldn’t stay in that house again…a friend new some lads that needed a house mate so in I moved…I told my mum that I needed to move back to Swindon for work commitments and that was final. there started another path of self destruction…mum rarely called…I had just turned 19 and had the world at my feet (and all the alcohol a full time wage can buy). The lads I lived with worked in a pub in town and drank lots and lived like animals…I wasn’t as bad as them but I wasn’t far off…I became dependant on alcohol and paracetemol and I went walking the streets at 2 am because I could and the fact that if I got killed no-one would no because there was no-one to care for me.

I started to see Paul (my current boyfriend) in May 2003...he knows everything about me and likes me for who I am and has tried to help me settle down and help myself. He gave me the courage to help me confront my mum’s boyfriend about the camera…he just came up with the excuse that he felt like I needed to be observed cos he thought I was on drugs and I had led him too it…and my mum believed him...well of course she would. I moved in with Paul because I wasn’t safe on my own and things were going really well between us…we were starting our own life together but my mum took it on herself to get involved… and to involve my dad as well. I became exhausted with everything going on and trying to please everyone and I ended up collapsing at work…. I was taken to hospital and kept in with stress related pelvic inflammatory disease…I was prescribed some pain killers and whilst my mum dad and Paul were arguing over what caused my collapse I became addicted to these pain killers and placed on anti-depressants…I had never really known too much about anti depressants so I did as I was told and fed myself these tablets (SEROXAT PARATOXINE)…but I didn’t see myself getting better…in fact I got worse and was taking overdoses on pain killers to make myself sleep. My doctor then referred me to the mental health team and now after 15 assessments…29 overdoses…..18 group therapy sessions…seeing 2 consultant psychiatrists , 2 clinical psychologists , with the help of 2 mental health teams and on my third set of anti depressants…this is me !!!! 5th March 2004

When I was in my early teens I saw this pair of Nike sports shoes. It was the most beautiful pair of shoes I have ever seen It was light blue in colour, with a dark blue slash. How my eyes twinkled and lightened up when I saw that pair of shoes.

My dad bought me that pair of shoes finally. We were not rich then, it was considered an expensive buy So in order to make the buy value for money. He bought it it a very large size A size that even I cant wear it today.........

Laughable isn't it. What does this all mean? Is this a parody of Life? A happiness that is To be admired, afar or near, but never to be realised in reality?

I have thrown away the unworn pair of shoes. It had worn itself out over the years. In my memory it still remains. But now, a sad pair of a previously nice blue Nike sports shoes. I had been the owner, but never been the wearer of that pair of shoes.

I have felt anxious as far back as I can remember. When I was a kid I was very shy. At age 10 my dad was convicted of the attempted murder of my mum. School was difficult after that. When I went to high school I was isolated and friendless. I dropped out age 16 when I fell pregnant. That was 30 years ago. My son is great and we get on well. At the moment I am using a lot of mental health services because I get really low. Over the years I have been married and divorced, in various relationships, in and out of loads of jobs, been to art college. Trying to find some direction in life now as I feel unmotivated, due in part to not working and the (necessary) meds I think.

The earliest memory I have is my dad leaving. Then he came back. Then he left again. There was a lot of violence in my family. My dad used to hit my mum, almost killed her once and me and my two older sisters watched him. He knew we saw him kick my mum and punch her. Apparently, he used to hit my sister's too, but I don't remember seeing that. My eldest sister said that I never got hit, but I have a distant memory of my dad taking his belt off and whipping me with it (but I don't know for definite if this ever happened).

When I was about 12 and my dad was living with one of the many women he had had affairs with, he decided to disown all of us because the Child Support Agency had asked for more money for me. He didn't speak to us for about a year, then one day he saw one of my sister's and told her that we could now call him. I phoned him up and told him how much pain he had caused me, that I had been crying every night, in so much pain because I wanted my dad but he didn't want me. And he laughed. And he said that all the things I could remember hadn't really happened, that I had imagined them.

I can't remember how old I was but once, my dad was looking after me on a Saturday, as usual but when he came to drop me off back home, my mum wasn't in. It turned out that she had decided to go out for the day and was stuck in traffic on the way home. So my dad waited with me and when my mum returned, he said nothing and left. The next morning, there was a knock at the door. It was my dad and I was excited to see him as I thought he was missing me. But when I opened the door, he pushed me out of the way and my hamster that I had in my hand flew across the room and couldn't breathe properly. My dad went into the kitchen where my mum was and pushed her to the floor. He kicked her over and over again in the stomach. I was crying and tried to make him stop but I couldn't. I can't remember any more about that day. My dad would just change. My sister says you can see it in his eyes. Home was very unsafe. Everyone was always trying to hide information about what had happened from me.

My mum used to go out a lot when I was little and she used to leave me on my own quite often. I used to see ghosts when she was out and used to panic that she would never come home, so I would put the kettle on and have to jump over the carpet a certain amount of times so I could convince myself she would be ok and would not leave me.

My mum was upset most of the time, so I would have to comfort her and look after her as my sister's had left home. I was always making cards for her and writing letters to her to try to make her feel better.

Once, I fell over and needed to go to the hospital for an x-ray and a tetanus injection. I had to have the injection in my bum and when any of the nurses came near me, I freaked out and ended up kicking them away. They were concerned about my behaviour and sent a social worker round to my house. I heard my mum and my sister talking to the social worker about me, but no-one got me any help. I so needed help as I was hurting so much, my school work was suffering, I was crying all the time and I was constantly making up illnesses, everyday there was something else wrong with me. But nobody helped me. No-one could see what was happening to me. I was always trying to break my leg, I don't know why. At school, I was always trying to cut myself with the end of a pair of compasses.

We had two dogs but I used to hurt them. How horrible is that? How evil am I for doing that? I used to stop my friends from leaving my room. By the age of 14, I'd already started having sexual relationships, very carelessly.

When I got to college, I still couldn't stop crying so I went to see the college counsellor, but that seemed to make everything worse.

When I was at Uni, I buried myself in my work, not allowing myself to socialize, working 12 hours a day every day and I wasn't going to be satisfied until I got a first-class degree. Even when I got a first I wasn't happy. I wanted to be the best, to do everything perfectly. I saw the counsellor at Uni too, but I couldn't really talk to her as I was too angry.

When Uni finished, I had nothing to hide behind anymore and that's when everything fell apart. I began working in a fancy dress shop but was so horrible to people, this is when I started to notice my moods swinging and first went to my doctor about these problems. I saw more counsellors but none of them could handle my emotions and passed me on to other people.

Since then, I have been in and out of hospital, diagnosed with BPD last year. I am now in psychotherapy and attend a day hospital twice a week. I am married now after having many doubts about my sexuality. I met my husband in hospital as he has also been a patient there. We were married 3 months later. Six months after getting married, I got pregnant after contraception failed. We both decided the 'best' thing was for me to have an abortion as there was no way that either of us were well enough to have children. I was also told by my gp that if I were to go ahead with the pregnancy, he would have to get social services involved and I would probably have to have my child fostered. I think about the 'baby' all the time and still find the experience extremely traumatic.

There is so much more to tell, but I'd be here all day and I'm sure that if you've read this far you'll be very bored by now. I just felt like writing this here.

Thanks for reading.

I was born on August 29, 1988, in the same city in Birmingham I still live in. I lived in an apartment downtown with my parents and older sister, Amy, until I was 5. When I was 5 years old things started happening with my parents. At the time, I didn't really know what it was. I just remember they were fighting more and more often and my mother was always crying. Then one night, Daddy left. My mom was screaming at him, and he looked like he was going to cry. I ran to my room and climbed out the window. I walked the whole way to my grandmother's house about 6 miles away. When I got there, my grandmother called my mom and told her where I was and that I would be staying with her for a few days. I ended up staying much longer than a few days. My sister still lived with my mother, though she came to visit me and my grandparents frequently. One day I asked her what happened to Daddy. She told me he had died. I of course believed her, having no proof that she wasn't telling me the truth. I still don't really know why she told me this; maybe she thought it would be easier for me to understand that telling me that he didn't love us anymore and ran away from home and wouldn't come back. After all, I'm sure the thought he was never coming back. He eventually did move back in with my mother and sister. I would live with my parents for a few days, sometimes a week, and then go back to my grandparents house, feeling much safer and more at home there. One night while visiting my parents when I was 9, my dad had left again, and I was sitting on the back steps with my mother. She was drinking a glass of wine, calming herself down, after an obvious ordeal of tears and anger. I asked her for the truth about why my father left. She told me it was because he had loved someone more than her. I asked her if everything would be ok... she said she didn't know. When I was staying with her, I realized she cried every night. I would walk in there and tell her everyone was going to be alright. She seemed to get comfort from it. While living with my grandparents, my half-crazy grandfather sexually abused me for years. I learned all about running. I could run to a friend's house and eat dinner with them, or run to the library where no one would ever look for me (though they should have thought of it first) or just ride my bike around until everything was calm again. I spent most of my young childhood running. This isn't to say there were no happy points. There were. I always enjoyed every summer when my mother and father would take Amy and I to Six Flags and spend the night in Atlanta. By the time I was 12 I felt completely grown up. I took care of myself, worked at my grandmother's gift shop, and raised my younger cousin, Nathan. I was more of a mother to the boy than his real one. He was my responsibility. I was to take care of him because my grandmother was working and couldn't. When my grandfather would hit him, I would be the one to rescue him. When his father (my uncle) would get angry and start yelling and threatening us, I was the one who would run away with him until it was safe. His mother was never there. She left him and my uncle a year after Nathan was born.

When I was 13 my grandmother sat me down in the living room and told me that I was going to go stay with my parents. I assumed it would be no longer than a week. I didn't really respond. She told me they had gotten a house. Ok... so I would stay with them for maybe two weeks? No. I would be living with them permanently. *blink* What? I had to move in with them for... good? I had to change schools?! So... for the first time since I was 5 I moved into my parents new house (which is where I am now). I've been here for 3 years now.

By the time I was 14 I knew something wasn't right with me. After doing a lot of research I thought I was either suffering from depression or I was bipolar. I couldn't figure it out, but I didn't want to see a doctor. All I wanted was to be left alone. I started having more and more problems and I was screwing up all my relationships, friendships... everything was messed up. I started dating Ryan not thinking that it would turn into anything serious. I just needed to be held. Little did I know that 16 months later we would still be together.

Not long ago I met Wes, a good friend who has been recovering fro BPD. He told me about it and told me that he suspected that it could be what was wrong with me. He said after everything he felt and had learned about it, he understood me way too well and that he recognized the symptoms. So I started doing research. Life by this point was falling apart, and I just needed to know what was wrong. After all the research I did on bpd I figured there was very high chance it was my problem. I tried to talk to my parents, but they never did listen. So, I've been pretty much on my own. That's how I got here.

It all started when I was age 11-12. My dad was an alcoholic and was hardly ever around, my mother had a year or two of being ill & was hardly out of bed. I had to play mum for my brothers and sisters. One night i stayed over with my cousin. We were laughing and making noise so I was put into a different room. His dad came in and sexually abused me, it went to court and it was my word against his "the case was not proven." I hated myself because I didn't fight back or even scream and in the way I got turned on. Then just over one year later I met a guy by accident he was in his 30s he was very manipulating and controlling, he made me think he loved me and that i needed him, ultimate mind played game player. He basically stalked me and would say he would tell every one everything all the time. I felt trapped but just couldn't tell anyone cause of the guilt of the 1st abuse. I thought people would think I wanted it or had made it up. He often raped and would beat me leading to me having a breakdown when I was 14/15 and was admitted to hospital. I was in hospital for a few months and when it was time for me to come out my parents didn't want me because I had lied to them about what happened to me over the past two years, among other things. So I was handed over to social services. I didn't understand why I got "blamed" for what had happened, why my family were angry at me. Doctors and therapist police and others were telling me "I had no control" how this guy was very clever and had a history of abusing other children but on the other hand my family were angry and couldn't understand why I lied to them & kept secrets for so long. This made me think maybe the man did love me maybe he was right I did need him! So I dropped all the charges pushing my family even further away! I ran away when I was 16 to a strange city I used to go out to clubs and drink all the time.

I met a guy when I was 16/17 I thought he loved me but he ended up very abusive too another control freak mind game player. He too was very abusive both mentally and physically often leading to me being hospitalized and on 1 occasion needing corrective surgery, I always knew I should leave him but never did, my reasons for this were I had no one else and I guess I just thought this was normal.

I became obsessed with this man and ended up at the stage where I was wanting & waiting for the next time for him to hit me. He would treat me like an idiot, I didn't count and normally spoke to me like dirt!

I sort of ended up almost wanting to be abused.

When I finally did get away I spent a year getting drunk and taking drugs going out clubbing every other night until I had a massive wake up call by getting in trouble with the police.

After this everything slowed down and I spent months and months in my bed I started cbt with a clinical psychologist which I do find helpful (some) times and also started taking anti depressants, I have been on 6 types of them now I know they have helped me but I am sick of the side effects.

This has been one of the hardest things I have had to write and would have liked to spend more time on detail grammar, etc.! but soz just cant! Basically be it the abuse, my family, mental illness or whatever I have had a live of fighting an inner hate, an inner disgust which at times has consumed me resulting in me self harming & overdosing, even self harming in the sense of being reckless and taking unnecessary risks with excessive drug/alcohol/sex/spending! Often don't know why but guess sheer escapism and lack of self respect play a large part! More recently almost gave up with doctors etc and looked into "alternative" help!

I would like to take this chance to tell anyone who can relate to what I have been through so far I have found that at the end of the day you are ultimately alone in this life yes we can have good friends doctors or whatever but only ourselves do we truly know what we feel what's going on in our head! Maybe im just a cynic but I know believe We have got to learn to be on our own as in taking some responsibility in dealing with and seek ways for us to help ourselves! We got to keep fighting and conquer "it" whatever it is!