My story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is the story of me and how my life has been hell. I don't care if you read it and if you do and it gives you something to think about, great. Anyway. I know it's kind of cliché to say, but things are usually going to be alright. If not, then at least stay alive for your cat.

My stepmother and my father started dating in 2008, I think. My parents had gotten a divorce in 2007. Also my mother found a new man quite soon, but he was nice. I was never really close with him, but he’s to this day, a nice person, plus, he makes excellent food.

I have a younger brother, he’s almost 17, less than two years younger than me. We have always been quite close and I love him to death. We became close mostly because of what happened to our family. My dad and stepmom moved together a little after they started dating and in the summer of 2009, we moved to a house. All five of us: me, my brother, my dad, my stepmom and her then 4-year-old son. He was five years younger than me, so we had pretty different interests, while I had no problem spending time with my brother, for him and I were close in age.

Once we moved in together, things got shitty. My stepmom and I never got along and her son was jealous of me and my brother’s good relationship. My dad spent most weekends working, because he’s a musician. That meant our stepmom was in charge of me and my brother as well, but she hardly took care of us. She got mad real easy for nothing and then she totally ignored us. She didn’t make us food, or if she did, she didn’t tell us there’s food to be eaten. She complained if we stayed up after 19 o’clock because her son went to sleep. This happened daily, for several years, because apparently “kids should have the same rules”. How about no, when another kid is ten and another five?

At the time I didn’t realize it but she was psychologically abusing me. Years passed and she got mad at me for something I didn’t do. She never liked me. In the summer of 2014, I spent half of the summer at my dad’s, half at my mother’s. When I was at my dad’s she for some reason was pissed at me the whole time. I wasn’t allowed to be downstairs if her son was there, because “he was scared of me”, for no reason. If I was sitting on the couch, watching Netflix, my stepmom would take the remote from me and tell me to fuck off. I wasn’t allowed to eat at the same table as her. She would either leave the table, or yell at me the whole time. Or then my dad would tell me to leave because I was apparently being rude.

My dad was never the best but he was alright. One thing I am angry at him about though, is he never believed me and my brother. If his wife said something we had done, he believed her. One funny accident was when I was coming to my dad’s after having spent the last two weeks at my mom’s, and my stepmom says I have lost the extra key to our house. My dad believed her and I told I haven’t been here for two weeks so they have no justification for that. Well, they didn’t believe me and told me I had to pay the 50 euros the new key would cost. I didn’t, and the next day I actually found the key just a few inches from the rock we kept it under in our terrace. My stepmom said that real nice of me to admit my mistake and give the key back.

During the years, she stole my things. The first thing was a stuffed animal I had gotten as a Christmas gift. I was getting home from school and asked where it was. She had no idea. Later that day my dad accidentally found the toy in her wardrobe. She, surprisingly enough, said she had taken the toy. She stole a few phones from me and when I found them, they had been broken. She stole money from me, annoyingly enough. It wasn’t much at times but once I found an envelope with my money, which was about 500 euros, on top of a book on her nightstand. Let me tell you, 500 euros is a lot of money and I had gotten those as a confirmation gift. She never actually gave them back, because the envelope had no longer my name on it, it was covered up. My dad did nothing about this either.

In 2014, early winter, me, my dad and my brother moved away for a while. I lived one week in that apartment, one at my mom’s. It was hell because I had been forced to leave my home for a reason I never actually got. It was also kind of nice, because I got close with my dad and we have a lot in common. I never understood how unfair it was until a year or two ago when I visited that apartment, because my grandmother owns it and my aunt moved in there. I was helping her and I suddenly got a ridiculous panic attack and I realized I can’t be there. A few months later, we moved back, with apparently the conditions I’ll behave properly. Apparently a teenager can’t be one in her own home.

In the summer of 2015, I was really depressed and I was paranoid whenever I was at dad’s. I didn’t leave my room unless I had to. If I did leave the room, I made sure I knew where my stepmom was because I didn’t want her going into my room. I never left the house if she was there, or then I took all my belonging she could something with, with me. I always had my phone, keys, wallet and computer with me because I couldn’t trust her.

Once school began, I spent the first few weeks sleeping at home. My school life was also a hell, but that’s only partly. In September, I changed to a smaller school for a while and that was good. I made amazing friends there. However, once my dad just came up to me and asked me why I had done what I had done that weekend. I had no idea what he was talking about because I had spent the whole weekend at my friend’s house. He told me he had been changing my sheets and found a picture of the stepbrother I have, cut into pieces. He said he wasn’t mad and that’s because I have anxiety disorder and am depressed. Maybe I had a blackout. It’s okay to be insane, we’ll get you some help.

No one believed me for weeks. I told my best friend and she did. She also got my mother to realize I wasn’t lying. My stepmother still thought I was insane and dangerous so I wasn’t allowed to be around her son. Not that I minded because he was a shitbag, but I would’ve wanted to eat in peace in the kitchen. So, not only was I not taken seriously by my stepmom, but also my dad.

The next spring, all went downhill. I had gotten depression medication but they only made things worse. I started cutting, not much but still. I had at least two panic attacks a day. I couldn’t go to school. It was during Easter, that things escalated. I woke up to my dad and stepmom fighting and once I went downstairs a little later, he was nowhere to be found. My stepmom had just written a note saying, we have to move away and that I can’t live there. I hadn’t done anything, considering I had been sleeping because no one wakes up early voluntarily. I tried making coffee for myself and she just took the coffee out of my hands and took it to her room. I decided to just ignore her and eat something then. A little later my dad came home, he had been to a store for groceries, and I asked what’s going on. I can’t even remember what he said but the next thing I remember is crying in my brother’s room and telling everyone to fuck off. My brother was trying to calm me down but it didn’t work. I decided I had had enough and I packed my backpack with all the essentials and then walked the few miles to my mom’s house.

She wasn’t home but when she came home, she was pissed at me. Then she decided to call my dad over so we could talk about it. We did, and in the end she ended up yelling at him because how can he believe his daughter is insane. I had never seen them fight before, I realized back then and it was horrible. After my dad left, my mom told me I never have to go there again and I’m was at peace for a while.

I didn’t see my dad until the end of May. He tried contacting me a few times to explain himself. One day at school I called him and told him how shitty he is and that he’s fucking dead to me. I was at a music class in a smaller rom with a few friends, just playing stuff. They all ended up looking at me like I had two head and I realized I had been yelling at him. I hardly ever yell. I’m very calm and if I get angry, I tend to be cold or then shut myself in my room alone. So, they were confused.

At the end of May, I had fought with my mom, because this situation was taking a toll on her as well. I tried committing suicide. Well, didn’t work and I’m kind of glad it didn’t. I spent that summer in foster care because my mom was so tired she couldn’t take care of me without help from my dad. He tried making commence with me but I never wanted to talk to him. End of the summer, and I got home. I started high school with new people and me and my mom moved to another house. We got a cat, who is my savior. I wouldn’t have survived if she weren’t here to cheer me up.

For a few months, everything was going great, or as well as it could. Until, my mom was in Italy for a few days and I was visiting my aunt. We are great friends, actually, and she is amazing. We ended up talking for hours that night and I told her I had been taken advantage of, just because we somehow started talking about sex and stuff. She, obviously, was shocked and I’m not going to say who it was but someone she also knew and someone she knew had taken advantage of people. I told her the whole story, or as much as I remembered because I had been 11 at the time. I had totally forgotten about it until then. We told my mom once she got home and we reported the guy. He got nothing for it in the end, and that pisses me off because he is a total asshole.

At that time, I was devastated. I was thinking that this can’t get any worse, but then my dad calls me. He said he wanted to talk about something I had written in Facebook. I was kind of confused, because I hardly used Facebook. He said I had posted something about him using me sexually, which isn’t true. When I asked him why I would do that when that’s now true, he just shrugged it off. A few days later, my social worker heard about this and she arranged a meeting with me, my mom and dad and herself so we could go over this issue. My dad a paper copy of the “Facebook post”. I read it, and it was hilarious, because it was so obviously written by my stepmom, you see, she’s deaf, so her Finnish is kind of rough around the edges. There was a note attached to the copy, written on it that I’m a liar. I asked how my dad had gotten it and he said it was some teenager that brought it to the mailbox. Funny thing was, the text on it was exactly the same kind of crappy Finnish the actual posting was. My mom also pointed this out, reminding us she studied Finnish and other languages at a university so it’s easy to tell those two were written by the same person.

In the end there was nothing we could do about this. A few months later, when the year was turning into 2017, my mom decided I don’t have to talk to my dad anymore. We had tried getting things fixed between us for two years now, and it wasn’t going to work, and I didn’t want it to work. My mom said that I’m sixteen, I’m old enough to make my own decisions. I was the happiest person on earth then.

I haven’t talked to my dad ever since. Last summer, we tried getting things together because he wants to. We had a meeting at a psychiatric clinic with our old family therapist. She asked what I thought about my dad and I said he’s an arrogant asshole and I want nothing to do with him. Maybe in the future, but not for a few more years. I don’t care if that’s selfish of me. I never had the opportunity to be selfish and now that I do, I am going to. He doesn’t need to know about what I do and I’m officially an adult now, so he doesn’t even have the right to anymore.

I’m a lot better now. I have a job, I go to school and I have future plans. I don’t have to deal with the bullshit I went through as a kid. It still affects me though. I have nightmares where my stepmom tries to steal stuff from me or kill me. Sometimes I end up having dreams where I kill her and her son and I’m happy in those dreams. Most are nightmares though. In those nightmares, I scream at the top of my lungs but no voice comes out. I wake up to my cat jumping on me or my mom walking into my room because if I scream in my dreams, I usually scream out loud. I’ve learned to get out of nightmares, surprisingly. I usually am aware it’s a dream. If that’s the case, I kill myself in those dreams. Usually I find a building and jump off it. Sometimes I don’t know it’s a dream and those nightmares are the worst.

I still have panic attacks sometimes, but they’ve calmed down from a daily thing to something that happens only once in a few months. I still have my meds but I’ve finished therapy. I’m not thinking about killing myself like I was every day since I was ten. Most of all, I don’t have those asshole people in my life that made my childhood a living hell.

Submitted: December 14, 2018

© Copyright 2020 helmu. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



Brutal when the people you should most be able to trust turn out to be the sort who relish power and love to abuse. Good work on getting these thoughts in to writing.

Fri, December 14th, 2018 7:59pm


Thank you very much :)

Fri, December 14th, 2018 12:07pm

Bert Broomberg

I thought your life story was gripping. It's always beyond my comprehension how some parents abuse their children. It may sound a bit strange, but you can turn your experiences into something that may turn out to be positive for you. Although your experiences are shitty, you can use everything you learnt from them into background information and material for your writing. That way you'll be able to sand away the sharp edges. Good job!

Sat, December 15th, 2018 9:36am


Life is a strange kind of casino.

We're thrown into the game without asking for it, and often dealt bad cards.

Yet it is our decision how to play those cards, and to not let the house win.

Just the fact you've laid them clearly on the table is a great step towards victory.

Sun, December 16th, 2018 9:02am

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