Suicide, Abuse, Growth. The Story Of How I Came To Be. Part 5.

Disclaimer: This post series is going to deal with very sensitive topics including suicide, abuse on many levels, and hard truths. If you or someone you know is somehow included in this blog series, please do not be offended by what I may write.

It is my life, and my perspective.

I want everyone to know where I come from and what I have overcome, and I believe that everyone is entitled to their own personal truths. I know that many people deal with hard things in their life, and you may never know because it is so well hidden, especially when it appears fine on the surface. Most people would never guess that I’ve had the life that I have based on who I am at this point, but I wasn’t always the person you see today. I hope my story has an impact on those that need it, and to know that you aren’t alone.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Part 5:

A few months later, we found ourselves having moved once again, but this time it didn’t involve a house of any kind. We rented out a plot of land and parked our 14 foot long holiday trailer there to live in. Certainly not glamorous by any means, but it solved our short term problem of needing a place to live. The 3 of us lived in that small environment together with pretty much nowhere to go and it absolutely sucked.


The only thing that gave me much happiness in that time was the family that we rented the land from, who lived just down the road. I became good friends with their oldest son, and I spent a lot of my time over at their farm. I learned a lot over there, like how to drive a manual transmission, how to help a cow give birth, and most importantly, how one friend/family can truly make a difference in your life. I will forever be grateful for them.

Mom knew that D had been cheating on her for quite some time, and one night some time after I went to sleep, she finally decided to confront him. While I have no idea what truly happened that night, I know that she was physically assaulted in some way. When I woke the next morning, I could tell that something was wrong. I have no idea how, but I knew that it was bad. I later found out that she slept with a knife under her pillow that night because she was so afraid. I told her that we needed to call the police, and that if she didn’t, I would. I was just 12 years old at the time. I finally decided to open up and tell her everything that I had experienced over the years.

We went to town under the guise of getting groceries and went straight to the police station to give our statements. It turned into quite the emotional and memorable afternoon, as the RCMP officers later followed us home to arrest him. He was taken away and a restraining order was issued against him. There’s a lot of things that went on from that point onward, but the most important thing is that the worst part of our life was removed.

In the following months, we had court dates and more temporary living situations as we began to figure out what would happen next. I know that my mom must have been quite stressed and confused as she figured out what would be the next step after finally escaping an abusive situation. I have no idea how she remained strong, but I am glad that she did.

Part of how my mom dealt with things was spending time in chat rooms online. She met quite a few people this way, and some of them she continued to speak to for many years. She ended up meeting a man who lived in BC, and began a new relationship. What was online for a few months, eventually led us to make the largest move of my childhood, and my first new province.

From the first time she mentioned moving to BC, I hated it. I was against any changes, and I was absolutely against any men being added into our life after the abusive life that I had just been through. She informed me, however, that she was the adult and was making a choice for us. That was that.


After we moved to BC, I was unhappy for a long time. Once again, I found myself alone with no friends, and since I was homeschooled, I felt I had no hope of finding friends. This was also a large part of the almost 4 years where I didn’t have a bedroom or even a bed of my own as a child. I slept on thin mats that could be tucked under the couch.

Their relationship certainly wasn’t perfect, and only lasted a few years, as he began to cheat on my mom as well. I was sad, depressed, lonely, and was entering my first teenage years. I continued what had begun years earlier, and just kept turning to food to solve my problems.

To me, life didn’t seem much better, but at least I wasn’t being physically abused anymore, and that was a good thing.

Part 6: The Final Chapter

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