My name is Katie and I am 16 years old, and I've been bullied since around 2nd grade. Around this time I developed a disorder that left very noticeable effects on my appearance. My first memory of being bullied is as clear as if it happened yesterday. "you're so ugly it hurts". those words still echo in my head. Nobody wanted be around me. I got to the point where I just completely stopped caring what I looked like. Because no matter what I looked like, I'd always be ugly. When I was 10, I moved up north. I saw it as an opportunity to start on a clean slate and get over the disorder. My parents didn't see it as an issue and refused to get me professional help when I needed it. My first year there was going well with the occasional jerk. But my life at home was completely different. As I entered middle school my family life took a huge turn. My mother would get really violent to me and my dad, and my sisters would constantly physically hurt me and call me terrible names, making fun of my disorder. My dad was almost never home, or when he was, wasn't wasting his time caring about me. I was still always able to just barely pick myself up until about 7th grade. My mom would physically hurt me, often with her nails, giving me countless scars and bruises that I couldn't ever tell anybody about. My sisters would call me fat, worthless, stupid, and a slut. A slut that shouldn't even be alive. A stupid fat slut that nobody wanted around. My mom would hurt me if I got mad. I will always remember what she'd say to me:"You deserve it". I remember one day in 7th grade my mom dragged me up a flight of stairs my by hair and threw me against a wall. Whenever I'd come home from school, I'd go straight to my room to avoid my family. I'd draw in my sketchbook for hours every day. It seemed to be my only happiness. As time went on, my family life got worse. I got to the point where I didn't feel anymore. So I just got depressed to the point where I'd stare at a wall for up to 3 hours without noticing. I planned how I would die. At school I was losing all of my friends. People kept making fun of the way I looked because of this disorder. I'd wear black to stay unnoticed, and I just didn't care. One thing I found joy in was theatre. So I joined a play and I met this talented girl with the most beautiful eyes ever. Everybody loved her. I wanted that. So jealousy got in my way and I started disliking her. I got to know her after a while and her inside was just as beautiful as she was on the outside. We ended up getting really close. My family life got even worse in 8th. I'd run out of the house countless times and just sit outside, thinking why I'm even here. And because of my sisters I was getting really self conscious of my weight. I'd fast and run on the treadmill every single day after school. My parents called me stupid every day. I started to lose it. While I was hiding up in my room after school, I was so depressed to the point where I took anything I could find, to take the pain away. I found thumbtack and stuck it on the top of my hand. I dragged it through my skin. There were about 4 straight lines across my left hand at the end of the day. I kept this up with the thumbtack on my left hand. My family didn't care if they saw the marks. When people at school would ask, I'd say I fell down the stairs or a cat scratched me. They all believed it. I once tried drowning myself in a bathtub, to end the pain. I was 14. During this period of time I lost my closest fiend. If I had never gotten her back, I wouldn't be here typing this today. After 8th, I moved again. I was the new kid again freshman year. I made a few friends, but none wanted anything to do with me after a few months. My mom got better, but my sisters got worse. I found a small razor and I started using it again all over my left hand and my wrist. I just did nothing but listen to music in my room. I've gotten really fucked up from everything my sisters have been telling me over the years, it's all just sunken in in sophomore year. I got a real, big razor in October and slashed my thigh the day before Halloween. I was cutting my thigh almost every day after this. On Thanksgiving I attacked my thigh, leg, arm, wrist, and my hand. I started immensely fasting and exercising because my family kept calling me fat. There would be days where my body had such little fuel, I would literally collapse. I still refuse to eat lunch at school. I started using laxatives to the point where I couldn't stand up straight, but I'd be dropping a lot of weight. I stopped the laxatives and I picked up some weight loss pills meant for people 18+.They have have been wrecking my body,making me shake and sick to my stomach. I tell myself, if I lose weight, I'll finally make friends, get a boyfriend, my fam will accept me. Starting at around Easter, I've been making myself throw up, hoping that will speed it up. My stomach, wrist, hand, arms, leg, hips, and thigh are covered in scars. I can't wear a short sleeve shirt without makeup and bracelets. I can't wear shorts or a bathing suit because that's where my scars are deep. I cry myself to sleep almost every night. I randomly break down crying when nothing even happened. The one think keeping me going is my music. I've been cutting a lot more because I've been made fun of from people at school because of disorder I'm still fighting. My disorder is called Trichotillomania. I've been struggling with it for 9 years. it's an un-controllable urge to pull out your own hair. I have no eyelashes or eyebrows. I've been that way since I was 7. I've been made fun because of it since I was 7. I draw them on everyday with hopes that a day will go by where I'm not made fun of. I can't talk to a teacher or snybody about it because that would mean telling them about my trich. I look in the mirror every day with no makeup on, disgusted with myself. I don't let anybody see me without my makeup. It's in-curable too. The person has to somehow get themselves to stop. Same goes for a cutter. But I know one day I will stop harming myself in these ways. And I know one day I'm going to get away from my family and the jerks at school and live a long, happy life. I know one day I'll be happy with my body. I know that one day I will find my other half, who accept me, even with these scars. If you're struggling with living your life, just remember that you're not alone!
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