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Well, let's start it off back when I was 6 years old. I really don't have any memories before then anyway. On December 12th, 1988, I was on my mom's lap while she was sitting on the stairs. Across from us, my dad was sitting on the loveseat watching TV. My brother-in-law was sitting on the couch relaxing before he went to work. It was your typical morning, everything was going just fine until my mom had a heart attack. I remember her leaning back on the stairs and basically going limp. I remember my dad rushing over to pick me up and hand me to my brother-in-law. I didn't know what was going on but the way they were panicking and checking on my mom I knew something was wrong. My brother-in-law then drove me to my grandma's house which was only 3 blocks away. I remember as we were pulling away from the house seeing the ambulance pull up outside with the sirens and lights going off.
So now I'm at my grandmother's house, and she puts on The Wizard of Oz for me. I remember her crying majority of the time, but she wouldn't tell me what was going on whenever I asked her why everybody was acting weird. I ended up watching The Wizard of Oz three fucking times. To this day, I hate that movie, and haven't watched it since. Then my dad showed up to pick me up later that night. He was crying pretty bad. I remember him hugging me and telling me mom was dead. Seeing both him and my grandmother crying led me to start crying. Believe it or not, that was the last time I cried up until very recently, but I'll tell you about that when I get there. I didn't even cry at her funeral. This is the only memory I have of my mom and the earliest memory of my life that I remember. Kind of fucked up, right? To this day, this scene plays over and over in my head. I'll never forget it.
So after my mom died, two of my sisters moved back into the house with my dad to help him move on from the loss. To help babysit me and take care of me while my dad worked. My dad was a workaholic, he would work 12 hours a day basically 3/4ths of the month, so I never really saw him. So here we are, my dad, my 3 older sisters (18, 21, and 23 years old), their kids, and their husbands and boyfriend, and me all living in a 3 bedroom, 2 story house.
8 months go by after my mom's death, and my dad is lonely, I mean he did just lose the love of his life. They were together for 30 years. My dad was not someone who could function without a relationship, so he went out looking to find someone. He ended up with the worst choice I could have ever imagined. This evil lady has ruined our family and separated us from him. He was in love, though. So he basically shut all of us out of his life and let her rule his life for him.
So now it's my dad, my stepbrother, stepsister, and I living in the house. All of my sisters left because of this women. She hated me from the start, I didn't do anything to this women at all to deserve the treatment she gave me. She would lie to my dad and tell him that I would call her names, throw stuff at her, and not listen to her. Tell him that I was a menace and needed to get punished. She wouldn't tell him this when he got home from work, though. She would wait until he was drunk. My dad was a heavy drinker and would drink after coming home from work. When he was drunk she would tell him these lies, and my dad would beat the living shit out of me. Throwing full beer cans at me, hitting me with anything he could find, and basically verbally abusing me because I was an "asshole" to my new "mother".
At 12 years old I going through a rough time in life. With all the abuse my dad was giving me because of my stepmother, and having no friends besides my mentally retarded stepsister and stepbrother. I was a weird kid. I was picked on at school constantly because I was the fat smelly kid. Nobody showed me the basics of life, I basically had to learn by myself how to wash myself, how to brush my teeth, and how to get dressed. Nobody told me anything about that, and apparently I failed at the hygiene department because kids are fucking assholes and let me know about it. So many times I got sent home from school because I smelled, and my dad or stepmother didn't do anything to help me out and show me how to properly bathe. I really wish my dad would have been so strict with me about overeating. I'm not going to blame him for that, because it's my fault that I ate all the time. But I feel he could have helped me out and not allowed me to eat whatever I wanted. That basically was the beginning stages of what my life would become, and I'll tell you about that when I get to it as well, because obesity plays a big role in my fucked up life.
I started hearing voices when I was 12 years old as well. It freaked me out because nobody was there. I didn't know what was going on. I was really scared. I tried telling my dad about what I was hearing but he wasn't having any of it. He claimed I was just seeking attention. I tried telling my sisters what was going on and got the same thing. It was so bad I even had a heart to heart with my stepmother and tried to convince her that something was going on with me, and that I was hearing voices that wanted me to hurt animals and people. I thought I got through to her and she would help me out, but I was wrong. She told my dad and yet again, I was beat for making up stories.
At 13 my stepmother and I got into a really huge fight that couldn't be fixed. So my stepmother made my dad give me away to one of my sisters or she would leave him. So he chose her over me. My dad unannounced, showed up to my oldest sister's house and told her this exact quote that I'll never forget, "Helen said it's either him or her, and I choose her because I can't get pussy from him, so you take him". And then he got back in his car and left. A couple years later my dad and stepmother was moving to Florida, and they wanted to take me with them. They promised me that shit would get better between us. They promised that it would be a fresh start for all of us. I decided to go with them and give it a shot. Nothing got any better, in fact shit got worse.
I'm now 15 years old and the voices are getting louder. It's not all of the voices that want me to do bad things. It's only one male voice in particular. He would only come around once a month and start demanding me to kick the neighbor, or squirt someone with a hose, or push, punch, kick someone at school. The only way he would leave me alone is if I did what he wanted. He would get so loud that I couldn't take it anymore and give in. The other voices weren't bad, though. They were actually kind of cool. I like to call them my radio station voices because they just basically added commentary to what was going on around me. They never demanded me to do things, they were just there. They were there 24/7 and never went away, I even hear them to this day. Yes, I'm aware that they are probably just my thoughts, but they seem very real to me. They are not inside my head, they are outside my head and sound like they are next to me having a conversation with me, but I can't see them. Occasionally I'll talk to them, but that can be really awkward when someone catches you talking to your voices. It's happened plenty of times lol.
I have done some horrible things in my life that I regret when it came to listening to my voices. I have harmed people, pets, and even started cutting myself. I got so tired of it I swallowed every single pill in my house and went into the garage to die. My plan backfired when my dad came into the garage to look for a tool and found me passed out. He called the ambulance and I got my stomach pumped. I didn't get committed, though. Which was fucked up, because I told the nurses I wanted to die and I would try to commit suicide again if they released me. Even they didn't believe I was hearing voices. I told them everything I did too. Even about harming neighbor's pets and even harming younger neighborhood kids. Nothing, I was set free.
I'm in 10th grade now and 16 years old. I've had enough of my dad's bullshit abuse. I want nothing more to do with his alcoholic, pussy-whipped ass anymore. I get home from school one day and we get into an argument because of my stepmother. I've never ever defended myself from him, hell, I was always scared of my dad. I believe that's normal for all young boys. You look at your dad as some kind of superhero who has all the strength in the world. Nothing felt better than the day I defended myself and punched him in his drunk fucking face. Unfortunately for me, the neighbors saw me punch him, so they called the cops and the cops arrested me. I went to juvenile for 3 weeks because of that. When I got out I ran away from home and never looked back.
I hitchhiked from Naples, FL to Pitman, NJ and it was the best time of my life. It took me 3 weeks to get there, but it was worth it. I gave my guitar to this kid at school for him to take me to the nearest truck stop on I75. Then from there I found a trucker that was going to Jacksonville. He was a cool old man who took me with him, we chatted about a bunch of stuff. When I told that I was running away he got kind of nervous and wanted to take me back. I assured him I wasn't going to tell anybody that he drove me there. I wasn't going to be a dick if I got caught, but from that point on I told everybody that I was 18 and trying to get back to NJ because a family member died. I ended up sleeping at the Greyhound station in Jacksonville for 3 days before finally finding a ride to Atlanta, Georgia. Jacksonville was a nice city, there was a lot of drugs at the Greyhound station, though. I had so many people come up to me and try to sell me hash, weed, coke, and even meth. It was crazy, and at 16 I couldn't believe that shit was happening out in the public like that during the day. It was quite an eye opening experience for me. So I ended up getting a ride from a young couple to a truck stop outside of Atlanta. At this truck stop I found a trucker who was going to Maine, he said he would give me a ride to NJ, which was awesome because that was where I needed to go anyway. So as we pull out from the truck, he says to me, "Hey man, have you ever tried Acid?". I told him no, and he proceeded to give me a paper hit. I took it and tripped balls for a long ass time. I lost track of time, so I have no clue how long it took us to get to NC, but somewhere in NC he started to ask me really perverted questions. We stopped at a truck stop and he proceeded to put his hand on my knee and started rubbing it. I asked him to stop, but he wouldn't. I then proceeded to punch him in the face and got out of the truck stop and ran inside to the truck stop, I figured that would be the safest bet for me because he wouldn't even try to come inside and grab me. There was no way he would do that. So I waited 3 hours until the fucker left and then found someone to take me to the Fayetteville, NC greyhound bus station.
Let me tell you something about the greyhound bus station in Fayetteville. It was one of the worst places I have ever been in my life. It's a real bad area down there. I also got robbed for the first time in my life while inside the bus station. This black dude pulled a knife on me inside the bathroom and stole my backpack full of clothes and other little shit I had with me like my cds and cd player. This one guy walked into the bathroom and basically broke it up before anything else could happen. He then proceeded to take me to a truck stop outside of Fayetteville. I stayed there for 5 days until I found a ride with a group of teenagers going back to Baltimore from Disney World. They were really cool too, we smoked weed all the way up I94 too. That was probably the best time I've ever had. In Baltimore I found an older couple in a RV that took me to Philly. Then once I got to Philly I took the NJ Transit bus to my sisters house. She was surprised when I showed up. Apparently my dad never told them that I ran away from home, so it was all a shocker to them.
From 16 to 18 I basically bounced sister to sister. I went from NJ to Detroit, MI, back to NJ, back to Detroit, and then back to NJ again. I basically watched my nephews and nieces for my sisters in order to live there so they didn't have to pay a babysitter. It worked out for all parties. I made sure I didn't stay at one place too long to wear out my welcome.
Once I turned 18 I went to a young adult homeless shelter for young kids in Atlantic City called The Covenant House. I have really bad paranoia and anxiety from my voices, which leads to panic attacks at random times. I had a bad episode with my voices and they sent me to the mental health unit in Atlantic City. Who then committed me into Ancora State Mental Health Hospital. I was diagnosed with Schizoaffective disorder, which is basically someone who suffers from Schizophrenia and a mood disorder, most like bipolar or depression. IN my case it was severe depression. I was stuck there for 6 months. I don't recommend going to a state hospital, they don't care about your health. Their goal was just to keep you there as long as possible to milk the insurance money. In Ancora I applied and got approved for SSI, so something good came out of it in the end I guess. Once I got out of there I ended up going to a homeless shelter in Camden, NJ. This place is the worst place I've ever been in my life. I got robbed, beat up, pushed around, and fucked with just about every day I was there because I was the fat white kid. It was horrible, I had to leave, I couldn't survive there, I knew I would end up dead if I stayed. So I went to a homeless shelter in Philly, which was a little better. Still was the ghetto, but at least I didn't get robbed every other day.
During this time I would go spend my days at a library in Philly and just read books and use the internet. I started talking to this girl on AIM one night from a chatroom. She was my age and from West Virginia. We hit it off very well, this was the first girl that was ever interested in me. So I thought I was in love. Fast forward 3 years, I was staying in my band's practice shed behind the lead guitarist/vocalist's house. We were a punk band who played fast, loud, and crazy music. We booked a show in Virginia and I told that girl I was talking to, to meet up with me at the show since she was only 45 minutes away. So we meet up at the show, and afterwards I went back to her place. The band went back to NJ the next morning. I told the band I would take a greyhound in a few days to get back. The girl and I fucked all night long, and really hit it off. I never left.
This girl and I ended up getting married 6 months later. I know, we moved way too fast, this was the first time I've ever gotten any poontang and I thought I was in love. My life was finally changing for the better and I was finally stabilized in life with a roof over my head. I was happy! During this time I got extremely fat. I mean, I was always the fat kid, but when I met this girl I was around 350 pounds. Fast forward 6 years and I'm now over 800+ pounds. I ended up getting hospitalized because I couldn't walk. I was so swollen with fluid at the time my legs were huuuuuge. I couldn't even wobble along because they were so fat. When I got to the hospital I got on a bed scale, and I error'd the scale. The bed scale only went up to 800 pounds. It was at the moment I realized that I'm really throwing my life away, and I needed to lose weight. I just didn't have the motivation to do it, so I struggled with it for a few.
Anywho, I suspected something was up with the wife. She wasn't the same anymore. Something about her has changed, she started distancing herself from me. I decided to check the bank account one day to see what was up since she was using the "I'm going to my dad's house for a few hours" excuse like 4 times a week. Which was weird because her dad and her never really got along that well. So when I checked the bank account I was seeing charges on the debit card to a Chinese buffet place in town, the charges were usually $25, which is the equivalent of two buffet dinner meals. I know for sure that I wasn't eating at the Chinese buffet several times a week.
So instead of questioning her I decided to snoop around on her computer (I know, it's fucked up and I shouldn't have done that, I still feel guilty for breaking someone's trust). I saw a forums that she frequently visited all the time. It was then that I found out my wife was a secret feeder. I don't know if you what a feeder is, but it's basically someone who gets off on feeding someone so they get fatter. Once I read her posts that she was posting I felt sick because it all made sense. At the time I thought maybe she was just a freak and liked food play. Maybe she really got off on baking brownies and giving them to me before we would get it on. Maybe she just really liked baking sweets and giving them to her man. I was so oblivious to this it hurts whenever I think about it. I had no clue what a feeder was, and if I would have known in advanced I would have never agreed to it before.
I confronted her about everything and she confessed she was having an affair with her best friend's husband. At first, I just wanted to leave, but I couldn't I was so fat I couldn't go anywhere. So I moved out onto the couch and slept there for the next 6 months saving up every penny I had. I ended up having this dream about my mom. She came to me in my dream and told me that I needed to change my life because she couldn't protect me anymore. I woke up the next day terrified as hell. She never came out and said she was protecting me from death, but I can only assume that was the case. So I started to diet and lose weight. Right when I was getting ready to leave back to NJ the wife begged for me to stay. Telling me she was sorry and we could work it out. Stupidly, I stayed and gave her another chance. This was the first girlfriend I've ever had. The first poontang I touched. I didn't want to lose her, I loved this girl even with the fucked up shit I found out about her. Even with the fucked up cheating she did to me.
Two weeks go by and she is getting distant with me again. So this time, I confront her again and ask her what's up. She confessed that she started having another affair with a client from her job. I was livid, and mainly heartbroken, again. This time I was leaving, there was no 3rd chance to fuck me over. Not only for cheating on me again, but with a client of hers! she works at a fucking HIV/AIDS clinic for fucks sake. Not only is she putting herself at risk, but she put me at risk for it. I lost my cool and broke just about everything in the house. I went into the mental hospital for 3 weeks because I was losing my cool and my voices were fucking me hardcore about hurting her. I didn't want to hurt her. When I got out of the mental hospital I left. Every 6 months for the next 2 years I got tested and thankfully came up negative every time.
So now I'm 28 years old, living with my youngest sister in NJ again. My main focus is losing weight. Which I did with a vengeance. I wanted my weight gone and I wanted my life back. For two years I went hardcore on my diet and got down to 440 pounds. I was feeling better than I have ever felt in my life. I was almost happy again. Then I met this chick over Facebook from Boston. We started chatting every day over messenger. She drove 6 hours to come see me one weekend. We went to Atlantic City and stayed at a casino hotel since she has never seen Atlantic City before. She loved it! I really thought I ruined any chance I had with her though. She drove 6 hours to see me and I was too damn shy to make a move that night. I honestly didn't think she would ever talk to me again, but she did. We kept on seeing each other once a month for a year. She would drive down to see me, and then I would rent a car and drive up to see her. Eventually it got brought up about me moving up there with her. I went for it, and never looked back.
so it's January 1st, 2013, I'm 30 years old and I'm moving up to the Boston area to start over again in a new relationship. One that wasn't a feeder! I made sure of it this time. I flat out told her about my past and that if she was I couldn't be with her since my new life was focused on losing weight. That dream about my mom really scared the shit out of me. It's not February, 2013 and something is seeming off with the girlfriend. she's getting distance from me like my ex wife. This time I don't snoop and I flat out ask her what's up. Told her I wasn't liking the distance between us. She told me that she was having mixed feelings and that she is craving girls again. She told me before she was bi, but I didn't mind. So I suggested that maybe we open up the relationship, which would allow her to explore her girl side some and get some poontang of her own. So we agreed to do that, but we had some rules. I told her she couldn't do anything with any exes because that's just going to bring back lovey dovey feelings. She assured she wouldn't do anything with any ex girlfriends and anybody that she does explore with will be new and only a fling. She wouldn't go back for seconds with anybody.
It's now September, 2013 and she tells me that she's still in love with her ex girlfriend who she has been seeing these past few months. My heart sank because I knew this would happen, but tried to salvage the relationship. For some reason this one hurt more than the ex wife. I don't know why. I wanted to run away, and that's exactly what I did. I asked her if I could stay until November to save up some money and move out and she agreed. So when November came I wanted to get away as far I could from the east coast. My buddy in Seattle offered me a room to rent from him out there. So I sold everything I had worth any value and bought an Amtrak ticket to Seattle. I went from Boston to Toledo, OH. Stayed with a friend there that I met on Facebook a long time ago for a few days, got a wham bam thank you mam from her while I was there as a pity fuck, basically. The best head I ever had. Seriously. She was 15 years older than me, no fucks given. Then went from Toledo, OH to Seattle. All in all it took me 79 hours on the train in travelling time. It was the best season to travel the train too. The foliage was beautiful!
For the first 5 months, Seattle life was awesome. I was on a main road with a bus route on it. So I could take the bus into downtown and check out the iconic places like Pike Place Market, The Space Needle, etc etc. I wasn't trapped, but then the landlord sold the house on us, and decided to move us into another one of his apartments. Which was cool, at least he switched us over without having to get another security deposit or changing rent or anything.
This new place sucks so much ass for a fat person. We are seriously up on this huge ass hill, and I can't walk up the hill without feeling like my heart if going to jump out of my chest. I made it up one time and passed out up top of the hill, that was the last time I attempted the hill. So I'm stuck up on this damn hill. The bus routes are at the bottom of the hill. So if I want to go anywhere I have to use Uber, which I can't afford.
The last 9 months of my life I have been an emotional wreck. I'm crying all the time, it's bullshit. I haven't cried since my mom died, why am I crying so much now? I don't understand it. I'm going through a major bout of depression and have been doing nothing but eating my life away at the top of a hill. These last 9 months I have gained back 135 pounds. I'm now 575 again, and I feel like shit. It's sad, because food is my drug, and I can't escape it like a drug addict can. You need food to survive, and I can't control my eating anymore. It's a vicious cycle, you eat because you're depressed, and you're depressed because you're eating.
At the end of my lease in March I'm moving to Nebraska because it's so cheap there. I can get a 1 bedroom for 400 a month. Hell, there is an apartment I'm looking at that will go by my income that only old people and SSI people can get into. They charge you 30% of your income, which is awesome because that will help me be able to live more freely and breath. Right now I'm barely surviving off of $700 a month. You know how hard it is to survive off of $700 a month in Seattle? Extremely hard! By the time my rent is paid and my cellphone is paid, I'm left with $25, and that is used to take Uber to the grocery store twice a month. I survive off of $175 of food stamps, if I didn't get them I would be fucked.
I also had another dream the other day about my mom. She came to me again and told me that she warned me to change my life. I'm not scared this time. If death is what is coming to me, then so be it. I'm ready to move on to the other side. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suicidal or anything, as my stance on suicide has changed since my teenage suicide attempt, but I'm not afraid of death. I'm not going to let the fear of death make me worry. It's not worth it. If it's my time, then it's my time. Take me!
You can write about anything that is important to you – your whole life, personal trauma or events that have affected you in the past.Share Your Story
Lets start this off by saying no, I am not planning on committing suicide and the title of this post has nothing to do with suicide.
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