Yeah, I’m Jacqueline.

I’m doing my best to do better. But it’s hard. Considering I used to come home from school everyday, feeling horrible about myself. Take out the tool and injure. I did this for about two years. Surprising, no one suspected anything before then. I covered up. And with spending the whole day upstairs in my room. Away from the world. Not caring about school, about who cared about me, about anything else that possibly mattered. All I could think about was wanting to end it.

Yes, I had reasons to injure. Feelings of self-Hatred. Dealing with the abusive, alcoholic father. And the mother that was never there, taking care of grandma, who was on her deathbed with lung cancer. All through 5th, 6th, and most of 7th grade. I was injuring. My dad was drinking. My mom was never home. One grandma in rehab. Another dying. I had no one.

So, alcohol in the family made me feel unloved. Made me see all the negatives in myself that he was constantly pointing out.  Which made me feel like everyone saw the bad things, That everyone thought like he did. Ohh yes, I had friends. All which I thought were perfect, cheerleaders, never talked about at school like I was. They all had good families. None of them could understand what I was going through. They didn’t know how to give advice. Or how to understand why I injure. I used to be extremely peppy. Like my friends were, even though my dad was drinking and I was injuring. Everyone thought I was fine then.

7th grade was when everything fell to pieces. But in that same year all those pieces were slowly filled and glued back together.

My mom was back in my life. After my grandmother had died. (R.I.P Sharon A.) My mom realized my dad had problems, got him the help he needed. And my parents were separated for a few months. My mom apologized for not being there, and she realized that she was gone right when I needed her. I continued to injure. The same stuff everyday. I was put down at school, When I finally started to look what I was, eyeliner, around my eyes, band t-shirts, more and more bracelets, skinny jeans, teased hair, you get the picture. Called emo, called a gothic freak, called names. New people were putting me down everyday. I gained new friends, a girl named Breanna. Who like me, self abused. She made me feel appreciated, By someone. My boyfriend Christian came along. Who made me feel loved, By someone.

I started going to alateen. Which,  at first, failed me. Gave me solutions that I didn’t need. And that didn’t help. After a while I found I could trust the kids and sponsors in that room. So, the story of my crazy dad was out. And alateen started to help.

I told a friend that had been there for me forever, that I was injuring. She told her mom. And her mom told mine. Next thing you know, I’m going to counseling. That didn’t help. I didn’t trust my counselor. I didn’t like my counselor. I continued to injure. My mom discovered that I still was. And I landed myself in Wellstone. The same mental Institution that held my dad a few months ago. Can’t really say wellstone helped me at the time. I acted like it did for sure. I was a master at understanding. I was a master at pretending to be okay. I was a master at acting like everything was helping. All they wanted to talk about in that place was anger. I wasn’t ever really angry. I got mad, but not to the point where I would lash out on people.So, therefore, I spent 6 days in a place I never, ever, want to go back to.

After wellstone. I still injure. Not much. It was hard not to. I lost my cheerleader friends after wellstone. Their parents wanted their children away from me. I still had Christian. I still had Breanna. But that was about it. And feeling alone again didn’t help me.

I think being checked weekly for injuries was really what made me stop. I feared going to wellstone again.

To this day, 8th grade. My dad is back with my family. I still haven’t fully forgiven him for everything he’s done to me, to our family. But he’s sober. So thats what matters I guess. Breanna is my bestfriend. And I’ve helped her stop injuring herself. Christian is still my boyfriend<3 And though we’ve had hard times with eachother I still love him. I’ve got more friends, now. Who’ve been through some of the same things I have. I don’t really injure anymore. I try not to. It doesn’t even give me the same rush it used to. Mostly just guilt. I go to counseling. I go to alateen. And both of those things have given me more insight on myself. Realize why I think the way I do. And why I am who I am. I’ve gained back my trust with God. I’m not athiest like I used to be.

My life is back where its supposed to be, I think, or somewhere close to it.

Yeah,  That’s my story.