My Story

My life has not been an easy one. I was born in Winnipeg and when I was 3 my mom took me and moved to Ottawa, Ontario to live with a man she just met. As a child he was the best dad I could ever have. He was caring, loving, and kind. He cared for me like I was his own.

All was fine until I turned 10. When I was 10, my parents lost control of me and I started hanging out with kids that were not the best influence. In order to keep me from doing stupid things; my step dad once told me that he knew enough people in Ottawa that no matter when or where I went he always had people keeping an eye on me and if I was ever doing something stupid his friends would be calling him with what I was dressed like, who I was with, where I was seen, what time, and what I was doing. And this was the beginning of my anxiety. At 10 years old I never really understood mental health or illness; I never knew that there were names for what I was feeling and I always thought it was normal.

As I grew up I naturally was given more responsibilities around the house. Take care of the dog, do the dishes, the recycling and sometimes on occasion start dinner. I had joined Air cadets in grade 7 and I studied hard. I didn’t have many friends and I was okay with that because I never really had time for it. Little did I realize, I never had time for it because I was never let out of the house except for school, cadets and family activities.

During my grade 8 year I was sexually harassed and assaulted. And the guy who did it is now an RCMP Officer in Ottawa. He never faced penalty for his actions despite reporting it after a year due to it practically eating me alive. As I progressed through high school the anxiety got worse. Whenever I went out of the house I was constantly checking over my shoulder, constantly staring at cars passing because over time I had memorized car tire sounds and colors and shapes of vehicles of my step dad’s friends. I was constantly looking at people around me scared that the assault would happen again (at the time I didn’t know that the guy would never get penalized). I was constantly on edge.

Throughout high school I became depressed and suicidal. My friends that I did have while I was at school tried everything they could to make sure I survived day to day and without them I wouldn’t be around today. School was my safe haven and every day I hated going home.

Money begun to get tighter and tighter as I slowly progressed through the years and with being tight on cash came my step dad’s cycles. The cycles were as follows; He would be in a great mood, playful, happy, and nice to be around. And then the next part of the cycle was when I would come home after school and you could sense the tension so much that you had to walk on eggshells around him. Anything you said, did or even how you looked at him could potentially set him off. This stage could last anywhere from a day to months. The next stage would be when we (we as in my mother and I - She never noticed it as much as I did but she always knew when it was time to walk on eggshells) ‘screwed up’ and he’d completely lash out, blaming us, telling us we were no good and worthless (and a lot more verbally and emotionally scarring words that are quite inappropriate). Then once he finished yelling and screaming and threatening me, we would all go back to walking on eggshells and being careful not to poke the wrong button. And then the cycle would repeat.

Years did pass and I got used to this cycle but over the years my step dad and I butt heads a lot. He wanted things his way or the highway and even if I felt that his way didn't do the job, I’d be yelled at for doing it my way (which he always called the ‘wrong way’) and then when I did do his way I never got the job done to his standards so I’d get yelled at again. This caused me to have major self doubt in my abilities and massive anxiety because I was always so fearful of him yelling at me.

When I started to hit my mid-teens I started noticing more and more the difference of how my friends parents treated them and how my parents treated me. I would talk to my best friend about how scared I was and how trapped I felt because I had nowhere to go and I could do nothing about the way I was being treated. I was constantly afraid that if I tried to stand up to him that it would become physical and I was too scared to have to think about how I would explain bruises to my teachers and classmates. At this point I had been harming myself and have attempted suicide on more than one occasion and I had become great and hiding my scars but I had no idea that hiding scars would be the least of my worries.

My step dad had this thing where if I had any guy friends that I hung out frequently, he would assume that we were dating and that I was lying and hiding and doing stuff ‘behind his back’ but the truth was, I never was. Not until he brought it up. Usually I would start dating them to piss him off because it was the only rebelling I could do. It was the only control I had and even then it never made me feel very strong. It just set me up for untrusting, abusive, immature relationships that were always set up to fail. Which paved way for my extreme vulnerability, insecurity, and distrust.

In April 2015, I ran away from home. It had gotten to the point where I was so fed up with never having my voice heard, never being appreciated for all the hard work I did and constantly being yelled at. (Although sometimes on rare occasion due to my rebelling, I deserved it). I had gone to a friends house and my parents wanted me home and they sounded so mad. I had a sudden burst of courage and I decided that I wasn’t going home. I called a friend and had them pick me up. When I got in the car I took my phone battery and sim card out of my phone and I went and started doing homework at his house. I ate dinner with his family and I was getting ready to stay the night. Until I had gotten a message on my gmail from my other friends - naturally they were worried. - It turns out my mom didn’t last very long and called the police after 3 hours of me not coming home. They were doing routes to all my well known friends houses, checking if I was there and if they knew where I was. None of them knew except 1 and he lied for me. Telling the cops that the last time he saw me was when I got on the bus headed home. I got my friend who I was staying with to drop me off at the movie theatre and put the battery and sim card back in my phone. I called my friend who lied for me and I told him I was fine and that he shouldn’t have done that. His mom overheard our conversation and demanded to know where I was. Eventually after great persistence I told her and she came - with a police officer in tow - to come pick me up. The police officer followed us back to my house at which he left and our mom’s went to talk outside while I stood in the doorway of the house. My step dad came over to me and demanded that I take off my shoes and go upstairs to bed. And I said no. He kept demanding and I kept refusing. Eventually I got tired of our little game and I went to open the door to go tell my mom what was going on because she said that we would “talk about the situation and ulterior options” but when I opened the door and stepped through the doorway, my biggest fears of my step dad becoming physical came true. He slammed the door on me. I was standing half way through the door and he was pushing all his weight onto the door which had slammed into the back of my shoulder (which later caused bruising along my back and shoulder that I constantly struggled to hide). My friends mom, obviously registering a threat pulled me through the door, my friend came running and his mom yelled to get in the car. I did, and to protect me she locked me in the car and proceeded to call the cops. My step dad, standing in the doorway yelled racial, offensive slurs to my friend and his mother. At this moment was when I realized I was not only putting myself but putting those I cared about in danger. By the time the cops returned, my stepdad had made his way up to bed and was nowhere to be seen. My mom had attacked my friends mother and eventually managed to get the car door open (with great protest from my friend). The cops split us all up. One cop per person, to gather stories and point of views. Eventually after a few hours it was decided I was to pack a bag and stay at a friend’s house for a week. It turns out that because I was 16 at the time, I was too old for the foster care system and I was too young to be trusted to fend for myself. The police could not make any decisions about my safety without parental permission - a twisted system if you ask me.

During that week I experienced what it was like to be free. I experience late night breezes and breaths of fresh air. Spinning in circles under a beautiful star filled sky (Something I only had seen in movies and watched from my bedroom window. Something I always wished I could do). I felt so free in my time away from home but it was short lived and it stayed in my heart. I always craved that feeling again. Eventually I went home after talks with my school guidance counselor and my mother, we decided that the best option for me was to let me go back home but for my parents to leave me be and let me re-adjust to home life. And my mother and I agreed to work on our relationship as a family. And that’s exactly what we did; but my step dad wasn’t as coherent. He became distant as my mother and I became close. A few months passed and everything went well. I didn’t feel like I was walking on eggshells anymore and I was able to come and go as I pleased. I went and hung out with friends and I was happier than I had ever been.

My happiness turned out to be short lived. I started hanging out with a group of guys and my step dad became furious, raging and uncontrollable. He would flare up without warning and yell at both my mother and I. One day I had gotten fed up with the way he was treating my mother. I was afraid of him and what he would do if I stood up to him so I wrote a letter. I outlined in the letter that I greatly disliked the way he was treating my mother and that if he continued to behave the way he was I was going to press for my mother to take action against his behaviour.

One day after I helped my mom cook dinner my stepdad was unappreciative of the meal and became furious and refused to eat. I left the letter for him and went and sat outside on the porch with my mother, not long after I left the letter he comes barging outside, face red, angry as ever and he throws the balled up letter in my face and calls me a “bitch” and says that “like mother, like daughter” practically claiming that we were both lazy and no good. I felt terrible for what I had done. This is when my mind began doubting my sense of courage and self resilience.

Later that summer my mother and I tried to get away. We went up to the Cottage in Quebec together. But not long after she got there she collapsed, unable to walk, sit, stand or properly function without immense pain. I drove her home (without a proper driver's license I may add, while skillfully avoiding the Quebec Police). When we got home my mom rode out the pain for an additional 3 days (a total of 6 days) before she let me take her to the hospital. Once there we discovered she had a ruptured disc in her spine and required spinal surgery. Fast forward 32 hours later in the ER at a total of 2 different hospitals, my mom was in recovery. I spent the next week at home with my step dad. While he was working, I was out with friends or visiting my mom. By the time my mom returned home she could barely walk, let alone sit or stand. My step dad expected me to wait on my mother hand and foot. But it was coming close to the end of summer and I want to be with my friends.

Eventually my step dad expected me to pick up my mom’s slack around the house and it was extremely stressful. One night after coming home from hanging out with my friends, I had started doing the dishes and my step dad came home from work angry and annoyed. He began yelling at me for not doing the dishes his way and I was so tired of being yelled at; I stood up against him and I yelled back. He got tired of yelling about me doing the dishes so he started accusing me of dating one of the guy friends I had been hanging out with a lot. He started to claim he knew what I was thinking and what went through my head so I asked him “how do you know what’s going on in my head? You’re not in my head!” He exclaimed that he didn't want to be. My mother came upstairs at that point, wondering what the hell we were yelling about. She split up the fight and my mom and step dad left for my mom’s doctor appt. I was so angry and frustrated I packed a bag, called my friend and made plans to go to my friends house until my other friend could pick me up and let me stay at their house for the night. I called my family in Winnipeg and reassured them that I was fine but that I was not at home. They were naturally worried but they understood my pain and tried to help me.

The next day (after multiple calls from my step dad and mom) I received one call in particular that will always stand out to me. I was eating lunch with my friend and I got a call so I ran outside to take the call. I answered it and my step dad was yelling at me saying things like “You’re being reckless, stupid, and inconsiderate” , “what about your mother you spoiled brat?” , “Where are you going to stay? How are you going to live? You have no money? You f**** brat you don’t know what you’re doing” and no matter what he said to me, I never had a legitimate reply. All I could ever say was “I don’t know” and “ I haven’t figured it out yet”. He continued to yell at me and I got so fed up that I just hung up the phone on him. I was stressed out enough and I didn’t need him in my ear telling me all the things I already knew and hated myself for. I went back inside and went up to the room which I had stayed in that night and began to cry. My friend came and hugged me and reassured me. After a few calls from my grandfather, I had to make a decision whether to move to Winnipeg and leave everything I loved and cared about behind, or continued to stay living in Ottawa. Little did I know that my step dad already unknowingly made that decision for me.

Not long after I was given the ultimatum; he called me again and as much as I didn’t want to, my friend reassured me that if I put the volume loud enough he will hear every word and make sure that no harm comes to me. He listened as my step dad and I as we yelled at each other. Then as we were yelling my step dad started throwing around death threats. He threatened that if I ever went home I “wouldn't know what hit [me]” and then said that if he ever saw my friends - then specifically referenced the one sitting beside me - he would “wring their necks”. I hung up the phone out of impulse and fright and I began falling into an extreme panic attack; my heart began racing, I was having an extremely hard time breathing, I was shaking, and I had this dreadful tightness in my chest that felt as if there was a giant hole. I kept clawing and pawing at my chest trying to cover it, trying to fill the emptiness and the tightness I felt. I was constantly hyperventilating, and I had this constant feeling like I was a little ant in a big giant world. I had this terrible sense that I was losing control and that I was going to die and that I had no control over it. My friend practically saved my life that day. He took me to the police station while I was scared, fragile, timid, and feeling insignificant. He helped me and took care of me. He made sure I was safe the entire day until I had my 2 suitcases full of stuff and I was at my other friends house for the night because she and her dad were going to drive me to the airport in the morning. 

Once in Winnipeg, I stayed with my grandparents; I registered for school and attended as many of my classes as I could but everyday I still struggled with the constant fear that my step dad was going to come here, and find me. I constantly missed morning classes due to constantly waking up with terrible anxiety and ended up having to drop multiple courses. I went from an 80 average student to a teen who barely scraped by and it was heartbreaking, stressful, and depressing. My major depressive episodes returned and having no one in Winnipeg that really knew my story, I turned to my old friends in Ottawa. I was suicidal, and I just wanted to give up. Despite regular meetings with a counselor, it just wasn’t enough to talk about it. I needed people who really knew and experienced what had happened during that spring and summer. Eventually my mom came to winnipeg not long after due to worsening conditions in the household with my step dad.

A lot happened between then and now. Some things I’m proud of, some I’m not. But My anxiety and my depression has improved greatly and I still owe my life to my friends who helped me that day. I left to save them more than I did to save myself. I never wanted harm to come to them and in order to protect them I took a big risk. I was alone, afraid and empty. All I ever needed was human contact and communication. I am better now. And I may not be proud of who I am yet, but I wear my past as a badge of honor and I will never, ever wish a past like mine on anyone.