To start; I'm new. I joined because some of the thoughts that go through my mind are so socially unacceptable that it's actually painful to consider telling someone in person.
So anyway, I'm thirteen years old. It's sort of necessary to explain my history, but I have a TL;DR note at the end. I don't go into too many graphic details, just facts.
From birth to age ten, I can't say I remember very much, but I do know that I was sexually abused around the age of five, once by a family friend and multiple times by a neighbor(neither could have been any older than 15). That's the least of my worries because I didn't even consider this to be abnormal until I grew up, although I do feel unclean, since I've converted to Christianity.
Then there's a gap, with a few bits of memory until I was about ten. Physical abuse was at its worst, which came along with emotional/psychological, and acting out/bad behavior(smoking, drinking, running away, etc.) on my part.
At this time, I told my school counselor that my home was unsanitary(surprise!). So, then came foster care, although I don't(and certainly didn't in the past[however I knew that the state of our home was illegal]) consider myself to be neglected, because I had grown up living in the kind of filth that's probably hard for you to imagine. I think I hit quite the "jackpot" with the variety in my abuse, heh.
More emotional abuse followed, as my siblings ostracized me(since I had been the one to report our mother). Following that, I stopped taking my antidepressants as a sort of rebellion. Almost immediately, I quit being such a nightmare. In hindsight, the meds most likely affected my mood negatively. My siblings warmed up to me afterwards.
I can say that for a couple weeks, I was happy. Happy? But not to worry! In the distance, like a white knight, was anxiety. My fear of death and what follows, a reoccurring fear throughout my life. This stage was most terrifying of all that I can remember. But ah--my faith/religion triumphed in that one. And now I feel great.
jkjkjk. Now I have an eating disorder(I wish I was making this up, genuinely, but I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa about a month ago, after years of the occasional throwing-up-after-large-meals, which I didn't see as a problem) and have missed more school than I've attended, due to my health. Since it's relevant; I've mentioned to my mother that if I could lose 50 lbs. instantly, I wouldn't. I love starving myself, and being underweight would mean I wouldn't be able to do so without larger, more visibly obvious issues. It isn't about my appearance here. I think it's important to note that there was a point when I was looking to recover from anorexia. Until then, I knew that 5-20% of those with my illness would die--and I didn't care. But as soon as I started to care again, to worry about my health, my fear of death returned. And my disordered eating habits have come back with a passion at the time I'm writing this.
TL;DR
After everything I've put myself through, I still can't seem to find happiness, and it seems almost like I don't want to. As I've come of highschool/teen age, I've been romanticizing about the idea of having an abusive partner. I'm logical enough to be aware of my thoughts, and how dangerous it can be if I find myself in that sort of situation, especially on purpose. Why am I doing this to myself, and how can I get out of this? I feel so helpless. Especially considering the last six months I've been struggling with my eating disorder, I know that if I continue with this mindset, I will die an early death.
*Sorry, it's lengthy. I'm not trolling, honest to God. And sorry for my stupid jokes. I don't mean to make light of this sort of thing. Just a bit easier to talk about, that way.