I was adopted on July 5, 2017, I was almost ten years old. I had grown up with my biological mom and had endured so much trauma in that time. I had been abandoned time and time again, and my biological mother would walk in and out of my life as much as she pleased. I was eight when I was placed into foster care on August 7, 2015. As I continued to grow up and realize that my mom was not coming back and my mom didn't want me, I slowly started to spiral into this feeling of worthlessness. This feeling started around sixth grade when I moved schools and was being bullied by boys and girls in my grade. I was being called "Sid the Sloth" and horrible nicknames. I didn't have any friends and continued to think that if my mom didn't want me, how could anyone else? Eighth grade year my adoptive mom met a guy online and they started dating. I had so much trauma from men; how could the woman that is supposed to protect me bring a man into the house? They married in 2020 and that is when things really started to go downhill. This man my mom was marrying had never hurt me or anyone else, but I refused to trust or love him. He lived in Indiana and we lived in Ohio, so we had to move eventually. Summer after freshman year we moved to Indiana. I had to start at another school and put myself out there all over again. That summer was horrible for my whole family. Every night I was either trying to commit suicide or severely hurting myself. The self-harm was very, very bad and was continuing for months. Once I started at my new school my mental health declined rapidly. I was doing drugs at school, cutting myself every single day, and arguing with my parents. I developed an eating disorder and continued to lie to my family about it. I was laced with spice at the beginning of the year and almost died from cardiac arrest. I prayed and begged for the hospital workers to let me die, please just let me die. They did not let me die. I was in and out of a temporary mental health facility August 2022-December 2022 four times. On November 25, 2022, I attempted to overdose on my depression and sleep medication, seroquel. This was my seventh suicide attempt. I took 10 pills and went to sleep hoping I would never wake up. I woke up and told no one about my attempt. On December 1, 2022, I was placed in this temporary facility for the last time, but I was transferred to a residential facility on December 8. In this facility we were taught Dialectical Behavioral Therapy. I was taught the skills I needed to learn to keep myself alive. While I was there I went to weekly therapy and family therapy. I lived there for four months until I was discharged on April 8, 2023. While I was there I had missed the birth of my baby brother and the growth of my two younger sisters and that was when I realized that I did not want to miss any of those events. I am now a senior in high school hoping to acquire a degree in psychology to be a psychotherapist, and help people who were once just like me. I do not want to live in constant fear of myself and refuse to let anyone get to that point either. Thank you.