antlerkid
My name is Andy, I'm 13 years old and I've used self-harm as a coping mechanism for a year and four months. I have attempted suicide twice, but I'm now on two medications to help with my depression and suicidal thoughts. Though it's been roughly two months since I last cut or burned, I still consider myself a self-harmer because the thought is always there. I've never really written it all out, especially not online, so I guess here goes. My mom is a harsh alcoholic and my father is a drug addict. They split up, and after like 20 boyfriends my mom is now engaged to some dude who is the father of her new child and also homophobic and racist. Since I'm transgender, he constantly misgenders me and calls me by the wrong name. He makes a point to make fun of shows that I watch, and calls people I idolize fags. Mom says to forgive him, because he buys us nice stuff. It isn't right. And my grandma constantly gets furious and kicks me out of her house, or makes up lies about the awful things I did so mom can pity her. My father is also homophobic, though he claims he's not and constantly makes hypocritical statements. He tries to accept me, but in the end he just screams at my mother like it's her fault I'm mentally male. And you know, sometimes I still dance a pair of scissors along my arms or thighs or stomach, tracing my previous "work". I mean, it's not like a project or anything, but sometimes I feel when I'm irrationally thinking that my flesh would just look better if it was littered with scars. I don't KNow, ugh. Sorry this is so long, thanks for reading if you did. It feels really nice to get all this off my chest to strangers, uh. I feel like a really big "attention whore" by telling people, s**t.
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I'm really sorry to hear about all of that. You sound really mature for a 13 year old. Your story reminds me a lot of mine(but I only attempted suicide once, around 16-17, and no one even noticed, that's how badly I failed, thankfully I picked myself up and kept going).
My mother is homophobic and racist, and before I came out as transgendered, I mused aloud to her about the possibility that I was bisexual(I was with a woman at the time, but no one knew), and she shot me down. We lived with a boyfriend of hers who also tried to buy our love(me and my younger sister), while being paranoid and controlling. He would not let use use the phone, computer, or television, or let us be in our rooms when he was home(he wanted us where he could see us). He liked to get pissed off at my mom and lock us all out of the house for hours on end, and not let us hang out with our friends pass six o clock at night.
I used to self mutilate by pulling out my hair to the point that I had no eyebrows, or sharpening a pencil to a very fine point and 'drawing on my arms, wrists, and legs until I bled or until the red welts were too painful to keep pressing on. No one ever noticed, again.
Now that I've moved out, I've begun to take solace in tattoos and piercings. It keeps me from hurting myself and putting myself in danger(because I get it done RIGHT, by professionals), and it makes me feel slightly better about my dysphoria, even temporarily.
Your situation might look bleak, but do what I did. Every year on your birthday, remind yourself "5 more years till freedom", "4 more years". It seems like a long time, but in the grand scheme of things, it really isn't too long. You will escape, and you can thrive.
Hit me up if you need to talk to someone. Cuz really, I HAVE been there and I know how much it hurts to be the gay, transman in a sea of bigots and homophobes that like to call you 'family'.
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