I've come to a conclusion today that my life, and my head, is far too fucked up for me or anyone else to work on.

I have no self esteem, I have no friends, I have no family.

I recently tried a hypnosis session to try and discover what I've blocked out, and what was found has opened a whole new Pandora's Box for me.

No one cares about me, how can I even care about myself? If nobody can care about me, why should I bother doing so myself?

I've tried reaching out to people who can understand, to an extent, about my situation. But I guess it was too little and too late.

I've gone into small detail about my life in previous blogs but for you all to understand the severity of the situation, I'll go into furthur detail here. In hopes that my story would encourage someone, somewhere to help a person in need. The kind of help I felt I deserved, but never got.

When I was young, about 4 or 5, my mother had a serious back injuring and required extensive surgery on her spine and was hospitalized for a few weeks. The earliest memory I have was standing in the driveway of our house with my brother and uncle, watching my dad's van pull up bringing her home. For a few years she lived in the living room of the house, unable (and probably unwilling) to take care of herself in any means. My dad brought their bed to the living room so she'd have somewhere comfortable to sleep, and he slept on the floor in a pile of clothes in our basement. I watched my mother drink herself blind and take large amounts of pain killers and anti-depressants, and piss and shit herself and lay in her own filth. Being very young at the time and having to clean up your mothers waste might of been traumatic for me, I can't be sure, but it definitely had some part in why I'm so fucked up now.

I don't have many memories of that house, while my mother was sick. But eventually we moved to where my father is currently living now, I was about 7 and halfway through grade 2. Right off the bat it was a horrible living environment. No one would empty boxes, my mom stopped going to physiotherapy and went back to her routine of drinking herself to sleep and shitting herself. My dad decided to become involved with multiple volunteer groups, and rented an apartment in the downtown area so he would be closer to his groups meetings whenever they needed him, basically leaving me and my brother alone with a woman who was unable to take care of herself let alone two small children.

Within a month of living there, my mother managed to get just about every family with children my age in the area to hate her, rendering my ability to make friends and have some sort of emotional escape impossible. I was never allowed to go to anyones house, or have anyone over. I wasn't allowed to eat unless she told me it was okay, I wasn't allowed to watch tv unless it was a show she wanted to watch aswell. I wasn't allowed to read books she didn't like. I absolutely loved Goosebumps and Nancy Drew, but when she found my stash she made me burn them in the fire pit in our backyard. I wasn't allowed to put my hair up, or pick out my own clothes. I wasn't allowed to have basically any opinions or independence.

For years she manipulated me into hating my father, by telling me over and over "I'd be happier if it were just you, Paul and I". She constantly told everyone, even people she passed in the grocery store, that her husband was abusive towards her. That he wouldn't give her money to get things she wanted, that she gave up her life to take care of his kids. But I do remember her getting $1000 a week from him, as a home-maker salary in a way. It was supposed to be used to buy my brother and I clothes, and buy food for the kitchen. And whatever the house or the kids needed. I never got new clothes, or shoes that fit. My shoes were always my brothers hand-me-down's wrapped in duct tape so they wouldn't fall off my feet. Though my brother always had new shoes and new clothes, and basically any toy he wanted. I loved hot wheels and legos, but I was always forced to play with barbies, even after saying multiple times I didn't like them.

She basically spent most of the money on alcohol, cigarettes, prescriptions, fast food, and illegal drugs.

I remember once my brother and I were playing out back after a rain, and we were having a mud fight. I accidentally got some mud in his eye, and he went inside crying to wash it out. My mother came out absolutely furious, grabbed a bucket sitting off to the side and smeared whatever was inside it (I'm still not sure it was mud in there) all over my face, and made me eat it, and then proceeded to hit me over the head with it. When I told my dad that night, he never said a word nor did a thing.

Being a young teenager with my mother was difficult. I wanted to experiment with my hair and makeup. I wanted to go out with friends, and kiss boys. My mother wouldn't allow any of it. If I was going to dye my hair, it was going to be a colour she wanted and a style she wanted. I wasn't allowed to wear makeup. I was never allowed out past 3:30pm on weekdays, and would get yelled at if i arrived home at 4pm (which is when I always got home since it took 40 minutes to walk home from school at the end of the day), on weekends I was never allowed anywhere. The first time I invited a boy over, my mother sat in the same room as us giving him furious looks and insulting me constantly. "You're an ugly bitch, if I were him I would just leave right now so I'd never have to look at your disgusting face again", she would say to me.

Eventually she started being abusive towards my brother aswell, and my dad could no longer over-look the situation and asked her for a divorce. Kind of sad isn't it, it was fine for her to abuse me but as soon as she started treating my brother like crap it was "out of hand", and people wonder why I have no self esteem.

I don't really recall having any issues with my dad for the first few years it was just him, my brother and I. He kind of just left me alone, treated me like I was a cobweb on the wall. I dropped out of highschool in grade 10, and he didn't say a thing. I shaved my head into a mohawk, and he didn't say a thing. I got tattoos and piercings and he didn't say a thing. Most kids in highschool would say "oh you have a really chill dad, thats pretty cool", but what they don't understand was I wanted a more involved dad. I guess he just never learned how to be a parent, since his volunteer work consumed any free time he had. He actually has awards, hundreds of them, for his work in the volunteer world. But he couldn't even help his own family. Maybe he just didn't care.

When I was about 15, my dad and I started fighting. I always had a vision of what a normal family should of been like, maybe from watching too much tv, and I'd always get angry at him for not being the stereotypical dad. He would never tell me my skirt was too short, or I was wearing too much makeup. He was never protective of me when guys came over to take me out. I guess I kind of felt like he didn't care about me, because he never got angry about those things. We would fight about it all the time, I'd tell him what my vision of a father was and he would tell me I know nothing because I'm just a girl and I don't have kids. He eventually kicked me out to "give me time to cool off" and I was forced to live with my mother again.

Living with just her was one of the most horrible experiences I've ever had. Imagine being 15 years old, and having your mother ask you to cut up her cocaine for her because "her hands are shaking too much". Only being allowed friends over, if they'd give her drugs. Her apartment was never clean, there were dishes everywhere, she stopped cleaning the cats litter so the cat just started going everywhere and anywhere. She had an enormous wool collection in the spare bedroom that was infested with cockroaches and centipedes.

Her need to control every aspect of the life didn't fade in the year I didn't speak to her either, if anything it was more severe than ever. I was never allowed on the internet, unless she brought a chair up beside the computer to moniter what I was doing. And when she went to bed, she would take the computer with her and lock it in her bedroom so I would not be able to get on it. I was never allowed to use the house phone to call my dad, and she took away my cellphone and sold it to buy drugs.

One night her landlord came knocking on her door, demanding her rent for the past 4 months. She had no income and pretty much spent all her divorce income on junk, drugs, and alcohol. Apparently they had come to some sort of agreement, and my mother said I'd be helping him with something for the next few days and that was how she was getting her rent paid. Little did I know that what she agreed to, was something that would impact any future relationships.

I remember it like it happened yesterday. Waking up late at night to footsteps in the kitchen, coming towards my bedroom. A hand wrapped firmly around my mouth, the other pulling my underwear down.

I was raped, and my mother let it happen, so she could pay her rent.

My vagina was torn in 5 places, I left the hospital feeling more violated than when I came in. The police never arrested the man (if you can call him that) that raped me. They had his semen, they had documentation of the physical damage done to me. And they did nothing. Even my own father did nothing.

After that it was a downward spiral for me. I was never really into drugs and drinking, but after that I didn't know if I could survive without being drunk or high.

My dad, again, didn't seem to care. He left me alone to "experiment", as he called it. No one ever put me into rehab, or sent me to a doctor. I was obviously sick and everyone just wanted to look the other way.

Who wouldn't be fucked up after that? How is someone supposed to know how to be normal, when this is all they knew?

I eventually stopped drinking and doing drugs, but became more addicted to online games. They were basically my only source to interact with other people. It was easier for me to make friends over games, since we already have something very obvious in common. I felt like I could hide behind my moniter, and become anything I wanted to be. I could be a successful business woman, or a free spirited tree hugger.

I may not be a very intelligent person, but if there is one thing I do know. It is to hide the crazy, and become someone else for a day.

When I turned 18, I passed my GED with flying colours and applied to the local college for basic courses revolving around chemistry and biology. Things were looking pretty good for a while. Until I decided to get into animal studies and do a co-op at a local animal clinic to assist the techs.

There was this one man, who was a big of a regular there. He would bring in his dog a couple times a week for very minor things. Like bleeding nails, and swallowing small objects. Slowly, it becan to escalate. Broken bones, buises, internal bleeding. One day he brought in his dog and all its teeth were broken, its eye was all bloody and pussing. Its anus was sewn shut, and its tongue was burnt to a stub. It turns out, that the mans wife was taking her frustration out on the dog because she felt that was the only way she could hurt her husband. In the divorce trial, my boss had to present all the files and documentation about the abuse to the dog. All the woman got was a $200 fine for animal cruelty. It was one of the most disgusting things I've ever had to witness. I was so angry that someone would do that do an animal that just wants to love you, and get away with it.

I changed my major to neuroscience and biology, and graduated the top 3% of my class. Recently I was accepted into Yale to continue my studies.

My parents weren't very supportive of me, my dad seems to think that a womans only job is to stay at home to clean and make babies. My mom resents me because I don't give her money or listen to her narcissistic guilt trips. She has told me more than once that the only kind of success I'd have in a job is to take my clothes off for money and suck dicks.

Even though I'm farther in life than I ever expected to be, I'm still depressed. I can't get the closure I need to actually move on emotionally and mentally.

Even though everyone I'm around on a day to day basis thinks me a sweet, funny, charming young woman. I feel like I'm absolutely nothing. An insignificant piece of shit that no one will ever love.

People tell me I'm pretty all the time, but I feel ugly. Everything with my face and body is repulsive to me. So I think people just tell me I'm pretty to be nice to me, since the truth is obviously not pleasant to hear or say.

Over the winter holidays, I was at a party with some friends I hadn't seen in a while. The girl hosting it, said I could crash at her place so I ended up going to sleep around 1-2am. People were still around but it was people I've spent time with before and didn't feel uncomfortable around any of them. I woke up at about 4, to someone who I had considered a really good friend. Shoving his dick in me. I tried to fight, but he was three times my size and it would of only cause one of my limbs to break. I gave in to it. I've been raped before, molested before, maybe my mother was right and this was all I am good for. My self esteem is so low, that when he was about to finish. All I could say to him was "don't cum in me". This guy, that I once trusted, was raping me. And that was all I could say.

I feel like I'm broken beyond repair. There is no professional in this world that would want to unravel this box of crazy. Everyone has given up on me, no one has cared about my well being. Why should I bother going on in life?

Dying alone, old, and miserable is so unbearable for me to think about.

The thought of killing myself brings my heart so much peace, it almost seems silly that I just don't do it. I want this pain to end. That's all my life is, pain.

I believe that the only thing keeping me alive right now, is the thought of leaving my cat behind. I've had her since I was 5 or 6 years old, and she has been my only true friend (as lame as it sounds). She is the only living thing that has ever comforted me when I was sad, the only living thing I could tell my secrets to without worrying about them being spread. People say I treat my cat like she is my child, but she is more than that to me. She is a part of me, of my soul. As long as she is in this world, I will be here with her. She turned 20 a few days ago, and her liver and kidneys are slowing failing. The vet says she may only have a few months left until she starts to feel pain, and since I don't want to see my best friend suffer I will end up putting her down. The day my cat dies, is the day I die as well.

I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read my story, I couldn't help myself but I hope it will help someone else be more motivated to get the help they deserve.