I'd Like To Share My Story

jennie0918

My name is Jennie, and I'd like to share my story.

October 4th, 2016 my depression got the best of me and I tried taking my own life. I overdosed on Xanax and drove my car until I found somewhere I wanted to crash. I floored my car into a traffic light, and remember hearing everything crack and break and the airbags went off as the car started smoking. Some Good Samaritan opened the passenger side door and told me help is on the way. But I didn't want help; I told him I just wanted to die. I later found out that I hit the traffic light, knocked it over, went to the other side of the road, hit a street lamp, and ended up in a parking lot. My car was totaled and I walked away with a scratch from my seatbelt. I was told I’m a miracle and I'm supposed to be here. And even though I’m not 100% and to be honest probably never will be, I do think I know why I am here. I'm here to help people.

I grew up with a verbally/mentally/emotionally abusive father. He said things nobody would say to another human and he said it to his own children. We (My two sisters and I) were skinny, or average if you will when we were younger, but at 10 I was put on weight watchers. He would make fun of me, and mimic me, and I’ll never forget one morning in 8th grade when the thought of “he’s going to kill me” overtook my mind. I was in 8th and my younger sister was in 6th and I have a bit of OCD (which wasn't diagnosed until about 2 - 3 years ago) Anyway, I asked my sister to chew her breakfast with her mouth closed and even said please. She replied with okay no problem. However, my father had a different reaction. "Chew with your mouth closed, chew with your mouth closed,” He said in a kid voice, as he got angrier and angrier. Then came the cursing, and then came the refrigerator. My younger sister and I were terrified and ran to another room and watched my father scream "chew with your f*cking mouth closed" as he started taking things from the fridge and throwing them on the ground. Slamming lettuce on the floor, taking a loaf of break and slapping it multiple times and eventually all our food was on the floor. This was not a one-time occurrence, but this is the type of behavior I had to deal with (along with my mom and two sisters) every single day. I was taught that I was not good enough from a very young age. I was taught that no matter what I did, it wouldn't ever be good enough. I was never going to be smart enough or tall enough or athletic enough or skinny enough.

I was a state champion softball pitcher at 15 years old. If I didn't spin the ball the correct way I'd be screamed at. One time the ball was thrown at my head and luckily I had fast reflexes and blocked the ball from my head. He would shake the fence during my games to the point where he wasn’t allowed to watch them anymore. This sport I was so good at was taken away from me because it turned into something I hated. I was a state champion; yet, I was told I wasn't good enough.

When you're taught to hate yourself from the age of 10 years old, your life doesn't exactly go as planned. By high school I was self harming, and suicidal, and still dealing with this man I was supposed to call a father tell me I’m disgusting, that guys don't like fat girls, and one of the lines said to me when I was 15 that deserves an award "What's wrong with your face? You should really see a doctor for that" This was my life at home, and then my freshman year of high school I also had bullying at school. There was no escape from being pushed down.

My freshman year of high school a group of kids made a Facebook group with my name, and my picture. On my picture it said pig? Cow? Wtf is it? And it was titled "Throw a grape at Jennie (Last name) Day." To which the next day I got hit in the face with a grapefruit that cut open my lip. But cyber bullying wasn't a thing and there was nothing my school could do about Facebook. The boys had one of their girl friends throw the grapefruit because they'd "never hit a girl". She got reprimanded, but not really. She was also the girl who stood in the hallway outside my math class and as people walked by she would say "isn't she ugly, she's so ugly right? Have you ever heard of proactive?" And she'd get people to agree with her. The guy that created the Facebook page also messaged me telling me I should kill myself, that nobody is ever going to like me and that their group of friends bullying me was the most attention from a guy I’d ever get. It was hard at school, but believe it or not being home was even harder.

You may be wondering why I’m telling you this, but I’m going back to my reason of why I’m here, the reason I walked away from a crash that should of ended my life. I'm here to help people. I want to use my story as inspiration for other people.

My life has clearly not gone the way anyone else's has. And 8 months later with the help from friends who really stepped up their game and my amazing mother, sisters, and family, I'm finally ready to go back to my trainer. I'm ready to do this again and get healthy. Yes, I’ve lost weight before, and I've been to trainers and nutritionists and everything you can imagine. Last time I worked with this particular trainer I lost 60 lbs. I was doing it because I wanted to, not because I was being forced to. And this time, I'm doing it to show other people that even at your absolute lowest when you're sitting in a smoking car telling the people not to save you, you can still rise. I lay in my bed in the psychiatric ward and never thought I'd be anywhere close to where I am right now. I didn't think my mind would be able to "get better". But I am getting better, I’m mentally getting stronger and healthier and I’m ready to put in the effort physically too. I want to help people, I want to inspire people and I want to show the world what I’m made of.

If I didn’t have a family who just wanted me to be happy, or a mother who would go to the end of the world for me, or sisters who would catch me no matter what direction I fell, or friends who showed me what a real friend is, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.

At 15 years old, I said I'd never live to 18. At 18 years old I said I’d never live to 25. October 4th, 2016 I almost didn't make it to 25. But September 18th, 2017 is going to be my 25th birthday. And guess what? I'm still here.

This is my story. I am no longer a victim but a survivor. This is my time to shine. My name is Jennie and my reason for being here is to help all of you, which, in return, is also helping myself.

DebLaBounty

Thank you for sharing your story. You are overcoming so many negative experiences, and your strength is inspirational! I am glad you are here.

HermanLily

Your strength is to be admired. Good luck on your journey, because, you deserve it.