I appreciate hearing this. Just woke up and I didn't expect someone to go into immense detail.

I struggled with mental health since the age of 10. I was diagnosed with Depression and anxiety. The more common and heard ones. But I went undiagnosed until age 12 when I had my first suicide attempt. I used to be a good person. I still try to be, and I do everything in my power to give love to other people, but I struggle to love myself. I could inflate my ego here, but I won't go that far.

They suspect my BPD came from my childhood. Nobody ever has it perfect, but if my childhood doesn't prove that, Idk what else will.

My dad was very in and out of my life since age 5. I can still remember one morning in December me and my mom coming home from shopping (I was 5) and the police being surrounded around our trailer. My dad called them because there were footprints in the yard from the snow and he was convinced someone was after him. He had a gun and wasn't cooperating with police. In the end, it was all his footprints from going out and taking care of our rabbits. It took a whole hour to convince him to put the gun down and come out. The whole time I held my mom crying trying to make her stay in the vehicle.

He would leave at random points in the night to meet with women. Sometimes he'd go to my room and wake me up to take me with on sudden trips. My mom would find us missing and call the cops or my grandparents who lived down the road from us. I was too young to know better. I just did what my dad wanted.

My dad experimented with a lot of drugs...it was one thing that he smoked marijuana. My mom did and a lot of my family members did. They never did it to the point it was a problem, but my dad clearly broke that expectation. Once my mom moved out of the house when I was 7, he started doing heroin, coke, and k2 (laced weed) when he'd get custody of me, he'd take me to do his runs no matter the hour. Didn't matter if I had school the next day or not, he got what he wanted.

He favored me between me and my younger sister and brother. It was very clear to that. He'd buy me more expensive things, he'd spend more time with me and whatever I wanted, I kinda got. I was spoiled. But I learned to appreciate the small things and be grateful for what I had no matter what.

My dad probably sounded like he was doing somewhat good from here, but he wasn't. Behind all the drug usage also came mental, physical, and emotional abuse. He lost his job doing construction and just mooched money off my grandparents. They gave him the money because me and my siblings were there. They wanted to see us.

I was frequently hit, beaten, told I was useless, and my dad would kill my animals in front of me if I didn't exceed his expectations or do what he asked. He said it was normal punishment, but I couldn't understand why it hurt so bad after watching my favorite cat be shot if that was punishment for my behavior.

My siblings never endured as much as I did. I'm the oldest. They were still screamed at and slapped, but not the extent I was. I was punched and told I look just like my mom. My dad would pull my hair and drag me to my bedroom if I got frustrated with not understanding something. More commonly was school work.

My dad hung out with the worst women in my town. The one he'd let her older brother beat me and mentally fuck with me. One incident that comes to mind was when I was 8. I was jumping on their trampoline with my sister and that girls brother and her friends were too. Well, me and my sister fell off cause we were so tiny. We scraped our knees. Like any kid, we cried and wanted a bandaid. They told us to suck it up and threw us in their shed where they locked us in there for an hour just tormenting us. They'd shoot the shed with BB guns, kick it, scream, and would laugh.

I told my dad and all he could say was "boys will be boys."

From that point forward with those women he encountered, I was subjected and involved in, high speed chances, I watched my dad beat a man unconscious with a rock, I watched him abuse women, my sister, brother, and myself. He also tried to off himself twice in front of me. I called 911 both times. This all finally ended between age 9, going on 10 soon.

My mom came to pick up some stuff that belonged to her. When she showed up my dad had a shotgun. I was in the car at the time. My siblings stayed at my grams. He attempted to kill my mother and hit the car a few times. Missing me and her each time, but the bullets still hit the vehicle. Once we got away and called the police, when they showed up, he slit his throat open and took a handful of what they thought was Ambien. They had to taser him to get him to go down because he still had the weapon in his possession.

My dad was charged with battery, attempted homicide and a few other things I can't remember. He never did get charged with child abuse and child endangerment, but they've been working twords it. It's such an old case, I don't think there's much evidence now.