There is substance abuse and all other types of abuse on every side of my family throughout the generations. I come from a line of smokers, drunks, hoarders, meth users, physical abusers, and emotional abusers. The closest? My biological (paternal) grandfather, my uncle, and even my own mother. For the first thirteen years of my life, I was forced to be the adult in our mother-daughter relationship, clearing pathways so that I could walk around the house and pitching a tent in our front yard during the summer nights when we didn't have any air conditioning or fans. I wore clothes far too small for me and waited for hours on the daily as she shopped, only to complain the next day how we didn't have the money to pay the gas bill or the mortgage each month. I spent a little over half my time there, and the rest of my time recovering with my dad and the woman I now call "Mom", where I was constantly sick from exhaustion. Every year, my dad would make consistent calls to the sheriff's office to do a welfare check, ensuring that it occurred while I was away to avoid further trauma. I remember in fifth grade, spring of 2017 when I was lied to. My mother told me I was going to be staying with my dad for a while due to a "gas leak" at our house. The real story was that she had confessed to my dad's wife, the woman I now consider to be my Mom, that she had been taking, and addicted to, methamphetamine. She asked that my Dad take me for a while so that she could get treatment and help for her addiction. She did no such thing, and a month later I was staying with her again like nothing had happened. A little over a year later, in early September 2018, DHS was called instead of the local sheriff, and I never stepped into the house I was abused in again. I'm grateful that they were able to save me from the abuse occurring there when they often don't for so many others. Since then, I've only seen her twice, since the court proceedings state that she must show valid proof of soberness through a drug test, and be chaperoned by either my Dad or my Nana. It has now been almost 4 years without contact with my mother, and 5 years since everything first occurred. After this time (and a LOT of therapy), I've become more confident in myself than I've ever been. Of course, life hasn't been perfect. I've had severe episodes of PTSD and depression, and due to trauma, I have severe insecurities about money. My mom has Rheumatoid Arthritis, a chronic illness, and due to her disability and the rapidly rising prices of living in our economy, I'm worried about my future and how I will be able to pay for college. I know that I have a purpose here, and that I didn't go through all of this for nothing. I am dedicated to making sure that my future never dips as low as my past, because I've already hit rock bottom, so it can only get better from here.

I believe some things are better left in the past. I was abused. It wasn’t your typical physical abuse, the one that leaves visible bruises and marks, but it was the emotional and mental kind, the one that leaves it’s marks in a different way. The way that leaves the marks unnoticed by so many and yet glaringly obvious to others. I rarely talk about it, because it isn’t what people typically think of when they think of abuse, and I always have the feeling that someone is going to say something to make my experience less valid. Because that is exactly what abuse does to you. It changes the way you think, questioning anything and everything. You constantly ask yourself, “Are they trying to manipulate me?” or “Are they faking it?”. Typically this line of thought completely screws me over leaving a lot of friendships over the years completely destroyed. I’ve even thought this about my parents, the ones who got me out of the mess in the first place. Problem is, the line between parenting and abuse is extremely thin. My abuser was my own mother. I was being abused by her for so much time, not even realizing what was happening. I knew things were bad, but I didn’t realize that it was being taken out on me. Even now, It’s all very hard for me to think about. After weeks, months, and now, years, it’s hard to process that I’m a victim. I don’t want to be a victim. I don’t want to be meek. I want to be the one that is confident and gets everywhere in life. I want to be the one who little kids take as an example, to spread the message that you can become something from nothing. I don’t want my past to define who I am. I want to define who I am. After all this time, I try to keep everything in the past because I don't want my abuse to define me. I still have my challenges to face because of my past, sure, but I don’t want people to look at me differently because of it. I want people to see past the poor little kid who had their mind messed with, who was neglected and left to raise themself. I want people to see the me that I am, the artsy person who will speak their truth, but gets scared to ask for extra sauce at a restaurant. I want people to see the person who works hard for everything they have, working towards an improbable future, but doing it anyway because as Americans, we are taught that we can get everywhere from anywhere. The past is the past. And I think it happened for a reason. But why let it bring you down, when you can not waste your time stressing over it, and instead tell it that it doesn't define you? That you define yourself? I believe some things are better left in the past, and that when you leave them in the past, you can truly be who you want to be.

The Vampire Diaries was not something I would have picked for myself, it seemed all cliche, cringe, out of my era. But even after I had no connection with this friend, this show was something that brought me a sliver of joy. A group of motley supernatural teens fighting thousand year old vampires and doppelgängers for eight seasons was probably the most consistent thing in my life. In the finale, after 171 episodes, came the song, “Take on the World'' was something that felt immensely familiar, like something I'd been listening to since forever. It’s nostalgic for me because while it was only featured in one episode of a show that I loved, it was a farewell, marking the end of an era. It echoed the sentiment of every song played throughout the show, the feelings of sorrow, love, the idea of what is yet to come. The Vampire Diaries is known for two vampires who fight over a girl, but it's more than that. It's a story of teenagers growing up with challenges, just like everyone else. They go through mental health crises, with metaphors for addiction, conversion therapy, depression. “Take on the World'' is a ballad that brings comfort, its lyrics like that of talking someone down from the ledge. The lyrics that say “No I won't, I won't pretend to know what you've been through” or “Just say you're hurt, we'll face the worst” are affirming, they show the bond between friends, family, lovers, and strangers. And that’s really the message of it all, the theme of the show and the song, that there’s always someone there for you, someone to help you out of the hole. You may not know them yet, but they’re there. All you have to do is Just Say The Word.

As I look back at the pictures I've taken over the years to see our smiling faces I wonder, "What happened?" because the polaroids depicting happiness only bring me Pain. - Oh to be a fly on the wall busily buzzing to watch it all unfold to chaos with the World in it's wake. - eat strong, be strong. but what if i am not yet strong? where will i fall but far away? i am but a weak little bug squished so easily maybe i shall squish myself

When you lose someone, in any manner of the word, it's crippling. you doubt everything you ever knew, and ask yourself how you go on without them. "Loss" as a word can be general. You can lose someone emotionally, but still have their form physically in your life; In today's technological age, you could be connected to someone so deeply emotionally, even from halfway across the world. You can lose someone, they can lose you, or you can lose each other. When I cut off my abusive parent at the age of twelve, I blamed myself for so long. I would say things to myself like, “I should have done more”, “I could have stopped her addiction”, or even, “It’s not really abuse if it isn’t physical”. I told myself that this was a healthy relationship with my mother, that it was completely normal to be without a furnace for years, to have every room in the house piled with boxes and containers just waiting to topple over. I think about that one Sunday afternoon in 2018, how I could mention a small thing like rats and suddenly, two days later, CPS was at our door and I would be staying with my Dad 24/7. In the beginning, I lost her. Then I lost myself. And in picking up the pieces of myself, I let her lose her grasp on me. I turned it into fuel for my own power, to prove something to myself: I was more than a victim. I could be the first of my family to stay away from drugs and alcohol completely, to graduate from college, and to make a name for myself. And, even with some setbacks, I’m getting there.