Stories of a Buttercup;

My name is Lauren, I am a twenty four year old small town girl. I am going through changes, and none of them are very good anymore. I was born 24 years ago, on February 11th at four in the afternoon. I have been hell on wheels ever since.

My father was never really around until about seven years ago, when I wrote him a four page letter explaining how much I hated him. He let me down, and to this day I still fight for his attention. I want that father figure now more than ever.

My mom is my hero, she has dealt with everything i threw her way. She tries so hard. But, sometimes she disappoints me, like all the times I was bullied or abused, or anything. She turned her cheek at times, and that hurt me. I crave my mothers love, I fight for it.

I trust no one, and the following is why. Oh, and for six years I dated the one man I trusted, only to have him rip my heart out.

Something New;

I was molested from the age of being able to walk, up until eighth grade. That was pretty much ten years of my life. My “grandfather” molested me, told me it was our little secret and that no one would ever believe me if I told. He told me over and over again that is was the right thing for our relationship as a family. In fifth grade, I realized what molestation was. I felt terrible, I felt scared. I felt disgusting. I could never tell, who would believe it? It would destroy my family. I would ask him to stop, and nothing worked. Once I was in seventh grade, he touched me until it hurt. I began to fear that he would rape me. I stayed away from my grandmother, just to get away from him. Once I had my period, the molestation stopped.

That portion of my life, I will never get back. My entire childhood was molested, it was destroyed. I can’t even be intimate with men, I am disgusted to be touched. No one understands, everyone I tell just shrugs it off in the end. If only they knew what it is beginning to do to me.

Now that I live on my own, I have began realizing how much this molestation has affected me. It destroys my relationships, it causes my eating disorder because I feel disgusted with myself; I blame myself for this happening to me. I could have ended it, right? I let it go on and on, now look at me.

I began cutting, in sixth grade. I felt it was all I could control. I have the scars to prove it. I tried to overdose in seventh grade, because I felt that it was the only option I had left. I began having an eating disorder in eleventh grade, because I could lie about skipped meals; I could hide that best.

All of my problems lead back to my grandfather stealing my innocence. I need help, I really do. People think I am okay, they think I have moved on from this tragic experience, but in reality, it is eating me alive.

May 25th 2012 at midnight, I tried to kill myself by overdose and self mutilation. I was in a psych ward for four days. I am terrified of the real world. But, I have to learn I have support.

McFarland Campus;
On February 7th, 2013 I made my second attempt at taking my own life. My boyfriend left me, no explanation, no goodbye. He just left, and never spoke to me again. Apparently he went to Maryland, but wanted nothing more to do with this life. Including me. He walked out on all responsibility. That was my breaking point. I knew it was coming, that moment when one bad thing happened and all the rest of the bad began to fall into place. My world was crumbling all around me, and then.. I went numb. I completely shut down. I stopped eating, and I stopped sleeping. Then, it happened. I took ten loratabs, and slit my wrists. I was unresponsive when they got me to the Emergency Room. I only remember waking up at the McFarland Campus. This place starved me, and treated me inhumanly. I felt worse there then I ever thought about feeling on the outside. My boyfriend texted me while I was locked up. Told me he still loved me and how sorry he truly was, how he couldn’t live with himself knowing he did this to me. He even wished me a happy birthday. I turned 21 while I was in the hospital. Worst birthday, ever. But, he texted me. He still loves me, yet, he walked away.  I almost succeeded this time. I almost made it to the other side. I almost died. How should I feel about that? How should I react to all of it? What do I do now? Is this what my life has become? Am I the crazy psychotic girl?

Hold me, hold on to me, I need all I can grasp.

May 6th, 2016;
The boy who left me in 2013 ended up coming back to me, and we started a life together in Arizona. In February of 2014, a few days after my 22nd birthday, I found out I was pregnant. We were both so excited. We ended up moving back to Tennessee, things weren’t looking good in Arizona. I had my son on October 18th, 2014. In April of 2015, my boyfriend and I got married. My dreams had finally come true. Life was perfect, I had found true happiness. On November 17th, 2015, my husband left. After six years, a baby, and a marriage; he chose a different woman over us. In December, he told me to go back to Arizona because he respected I knew what was best for our child. He abandoned us completely, I barely hear from him. He’s playing family with a five year old and her trash mother. My dreams have been shattered. I’m back to not eating, I’m back to not sleeping. I’m back to being miserable at best. Everyone thinks I’m strong and that I’m doing okay, but I am so far from it. The only reason I haven’t completely given up on breathing is our son. The one good thing that came from the pain. He needs me, he’s been hurt enough.
Mommy’s here, baby, just have faith in me. I’ll be better one day.

This is my life in a nutshell.



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