letting go

Today I decided to write about my past. And although is makes me uncomfortable and icky, I have to accept that it is a part of my life and I must talk about it.
Up until I was seven, my family was decently wealthy. We went on a Disney World trip over the summer and that's when my dad got a call from his boss that the business shut down and my mom was unemployed. And because of this stress, anger began to arise in the house. My dad slept on the couch and there was constant yelling going around. We couldn't afford our house anymore so we moved out to a smaller place and rented it. My room was an office that I shared with my dad. The arguing became worse and sometimes when my dad was gone, my mom would call me horrible names, even occasionally slap me.
My dad picked my siblings and I up from school one day, bought us ice cream and sat us in the back of my uncle's trailer. He told us that he had divorced my mom. He was living in that trailer with no shower, office or free space.
Just a few months later, I started getting bullied. Bullying was a huge part of my life from that point on.
In January of 2014, my dad married a woman I had never met and I was furious with him. I sided with my abusive mother and created lots of bad energy in my life.
Bullying continued to play on and get worse as middle school passed by. By the end of 6th grade I was purposefully hurting myself.
Moving onto 7th grade, I started to see my dad more. I was visiting him every weekend and a couple days a week. I spent some of the summer with him and some of the summer with my mom. At this time, I started to develop serious depression and I isolated myself from others and hurt myself almost daily.
I attempted suicide in March of 2015.
At the start of 8th grade, I ran away and never saw my mom again, to this day. My self harm was getting worse and so did bullying. Over the winter break of 2015 I was raped and I continuously blamed myself for it. In February of 2016, I was sexually harassed by the boy sitting next to me in class. He was only suspended for a week and I was removed from the class.
February 12th was the last day that I ever hurt myself. As I continued to live with my dad, my life started to get better. I pulled myself out of depression and have not spoken to my mom for over a year now.
This is dedicated to accepting my past and becoming a newer version of myself, and to show others that it gets better; you just have to believe it will.
Find your passion and believe that you can do anything, and you will.