My name is Milagro and I have been fighting with mental illness since I was seven years old. I am now twenty seven. My mother had depression and an anxiety disorder. My bothers and I have been in and out of the foster care system since I was three. My father passed away when I was three my mother was getting married to my step-dad a week after my dad passed. So I was not happy and I had a bad feeling about him since I met him.
I started cutting myself when I was seven years old. I don’t even know what made me do it. I have always been a very emotional person and I was really attached to my mommy. At first my step-dad was really nice to us but then my mom was having back problems so she couldn’t do much. I would get sick really easy and I wouldn’t talk to anyone but my mom. One day my step-dad got mad about it and started yelling at me and getting in my face. I was terrified. That was just the first of everything.
My over sister and I would fight a lot and we would get yelled at to get along, so one day we were getting along and he was drinking as he normally did on the weekend. He got mad that my sister and I were getting along. He started yelling at us and my sister told him to stop, he ended up throwing a can of vegetables at her, it barely missed her head. After all that I just feel like people just tolerated me being around and I started to cut myself more.
I would cry myself to sleep and I would look forward to seeing my best friend, because every weekend I spent the night at her house. I was about ten years old at that time, and my mom had to keep going for back surgery so she wasn’t around a lot. That’s when the sexual abuse started, he would always put me to bed earlier than my sister. It started just with him touching me, he would tell me if I said anything that my mom would not believe me and they would take us away again and I wouldn’t be able to see my mom for a long time, and they would not let me see my brothers and sisters. So I kept it quite for three years until he forced himself on me and penetrated me. It hurt me so bad.
Finally I got up enough courage to tell my friend and then we told her mom. She told me that I had to tell the social workers what I told her but she wasn’t going to make me do it until the morning. Later on that day we received a phone call from my mom, my step-dad had told her that he thought I was having sex. They wanted me to come home, luckily for me my friend lived on a military base. So I ended up telling my mom what was going on and sure enough she didn’t believe me, my step-dad got on the phone and started to yell at me saying I was lying and I just wanted to break up the family. They let me stay with my friend because they were drunk. Later on that night I attempted my first suicide attempt I took a full bottle of ibuprofen. It didn’t work I just end up being sick.
The sad thing about all of this is about a year before he started everything my uncle on his side molested me. My step-dad beat the crap out of him, so I was just starting to feel safe around him because of that and he helped get us back to my mommy and the reason we got taken from her was because her boyfriend was molesting me so I already had trust issues with men. My mom and step-dad decided they were going to come pick me up early in the morning while my friends mom was at work.
My step-dad was pounding on the door and we were really afraid so we called the police. They took him to jail because he was still drunk and they called social services and took me to the hospital to get looked at. My mom just keep yelling saying I was lying and just wanted to break up the family. I just felt worse I really wanted to die ever since then I’ve felt worthless and it’s never gone away.
At the hospital after they checked me out they told my mom that I had been penetrated. My mom stated crying and I was so mad at her for not believing me, but I hated myself for making my mommy cry. She came and gave me a huge hug. Luckily social services let us go home with my mom. After that my sister stated acting out, and I developed my eating disorder. I wouldn’t eat and I would sneak in the bathroom at night and cut my wrist and legs every night. My sister got so out of control that she pushed my mom down and almost broke my nose. She was the first one of us to be taken away again. We ended up losing our house because mom could not pay for it, so we moved to a apartment that is when we started seeing a therapist and I started drinking a lot and smoking weed I would skip school. When I started having anxiety attacks I just wouldn’t go.
My mom found out that I had been cutting myself because my sweater had slipped down and the therapist seen it. So they put me on meds. My mom started to do drugs and she would kick us out for hours. I ended up suspended and social services found out I was talking care of everyone so they took us all. We ended up in four Foster homes in five months. One of the foster parents found out and told them that they would take all of us. I still cut myself a lot I felt like everyone wanted me gone because when they ask the family if they could take us everyone wanted everyone but me. We ended up staying with the family until I turned 18, then I ran away. I still graduated though.
I feel bad for running but I always felt like no one wants me around I still feel that way. I ended up moving to take care of my mom because she had lost a leg and wasn’t doing well. My mother and I got a apartment because she was staying with my sister and things were not going well, my sister had gotten really bad into drugs. I took care of mom for five years and one morning I found her dead. I had gotten so close to my mommy again. My mental health went down hill quickly. I started drinking a lot again and ended up addicted to Crack. I started cutting myself again and I was on meds that were not working. I ended up moving to a different town with my current husband.
I still go to the therapist and get meds because they stop working on me all the time. I still cut my self but not as much as I used to. I constantly feel worthless. My mom will have been gone five years in February. I’ve tried to kill myself more than a few times since we lost her. It still makes me cry thinking about it. But I’ve been off illegal drugs for two years. I can’t work and I ended up with diabetes that we can’t get under control. And I have fibromyalgia. I have two girls that are our neighbors they call me their sister. I’m learning copping skills. When my manic episodes kick in I’m able to clean but when I hit my low all I can do is cry. I am doing better than I was; I don’t hear voices as much; I just need to do baby steps.