I was born on October 28, 1979, in New York. Growing up, I was not nurtured - at least not like I should have been. My family claims to be Christians, and the Bible is the way to live. I am a Christian and know the Bible, but what happened to parents loving, caring, teaching and communicating with their children? I guess my meaning of a family differs from my parent's meaning. Growing up I had gone through so much, I am very glad I am alive today. Finally, to get my life straight, go to further my education and live a long life of a survivor.

I am a survivor of so much pain and hurt. I went through a lot growing up, and not having friends or people to talk to made it harder for me. I have 5 living brothers and 1 sister, all older than me. At age 6, I was raped by someone, but I can't recall who it was, because from that happening so young, I blocked it from memory. From 7-14, I was sexually abused and burned from a close relative. I was raped and sexually molested from 12-14 by a pastor's son. My mom's brother molested me different times, and at age 16 I was raped by my brother's friend. At 17, I was raped again my someone I went to school with, and for the longest time - since I can remember my parents have emotionally, verbally and spiritually abused me. My parents haven't done anything in the past year and half to hurt me. Two days before I was to go to college, I was raped by my now ex girlfriend, Beccie. I was 18 then.

When I was 8 years old, I dedicated my life to CHRIST. I remember that day like it was yesterday. Since then, God has allowed me to go through so much abuse - sexually, emotionally, mentally and spiritual for many years. I never knew why I was abused, why I was always hurt, or why I tried to take my own life, until after I tried 4 times in 1997.

I have been through all of this as a survivor for one reason - to help others. Help others understand that God may allow us to be hurt, but He has a reason. Help others also understand there is a reason to live. Also, to let others know that without JESUS, I would not be here and neither would they. JESUS saved me more than once...and HE can save you too. If you don't know JESUS as your personal Saviour, you can. Just pray this prayer, meaning it from all your heart: "Lord God, you sent your only begotten Son, Jesus, to die for me on the cross, to save me from myself and my sins. Jesus, I believe in you and that you can help me be a better person. Lord, I ask you to forgive me of my sins and become one with me. Please make me into the person you want me to be. In Jesus' name, Amen!

At age 14 - I was in 8th grade and talked with my guidance counselor. She had to call Social Services...they came to school that day and I told them everything. I was taken home that day, and they told me I had to get my clothes and things. They put me in Foster Care. It was weird. My foster mom, used to hang out with my sister...they were great people. A month and a half later, I got to go home to my parents.

For the next three years my relationship with my parents didn't change. Being a person with depression isn't easy, but the hardest thing, was finding it was something more deep than that.

I went to High School that year and three years after that...I never cared until 1998. I was a senior in High School. I was so depressed my freshman, sophomore and most of my junior year.

In December of 1996, I was baby-sitting for a baby. She was sleeping and I was laying on the couch watching television. I saw the ad for the hospitals Crisis Hotline and called it. I called because I was feeling down, I only ate once a day for 7 months. I didn't know what to do. Talking to the person, I told her everything that happened to me. All the abuse, rapes, everything up to hating my parents. They called Kathy - the person I was baby-sitting for; she came home and got me and took me to the ER. I wasn't suicidal, but I was really depressed. I sat in the ER until 3:30am that morning. I was psychologically evaluated by this girl named Jennifer, who worked for the Mental Health Ward. She sent me home because I wasn't suicidal; she gave me Maggie B.'s name.

I called Maggie - who is a psychologist. I saw her for the first time; she put me on Prozac. After a while, I saw the Prozac working on me. Around January 14, 1997, I moved out of my parents' house. I moved in with someone who fought with me. So a few days later, I took a bag to my parents house for the night. The next day, I woke up and wanted to overdose on the Prozac. I came to school and told my guidance counselor, who made me call Maggie. She suggested that I go to the hospital and I did. I was psychologically evaluated again - however this time, I was sent to XGH - Mental Health Ward. I was there for two weeks, during that two weeks they put me on Lithium as well as the Prozac. During a "family meeting" I got mad and walked to my room. I got my mirror out of my drawer and took it to the bathroom. I broke that mirror and took a sharp piece across my wrist many times. However, one of the RN's came in and told me to go to group...she found out that I was cutting my wrists. For the next two days, I was put in the seclusion room...the third day I was discharged.

That following Tuesday, was a staff development day at school, and when I woke up it was 11:00am. I took a shower and then walked downstairs and took my Prozac. Then I got my Lithium out...it was 11:30am; I took the bottle and a glass of water to my room. Counted 33 pills at 300 milligrams each...took all of them. An hour and a half later, I went downstairs and told my dad, "I just overdosed on my Lithium." He called the hospital, the poison control and finally 911. By the time they got there, I was vomiting...which was good. I could barely walk, so they carried me to the stretcher. In the ambulance, they put me on a heart monitor, oxygen and I.V.'s. At the ER, they pumped my stomach. I hated that and still remember them sticking a four foot tube down my throat. Evaluated once again, and since my girlfriend was in Buffalo, they sent me to XGH, again.

After I was discharged, I went to school the following Monday, went to my counselor, and said, "Mr. F, I'm gonna kill myself." He shut his door and called Miss P. in and I told them what was going on. Then he got my dad and the school psychologist in there...he also called the cops. I refused to go to the hospital again. The principal came in and I talked to her for a few minutes. Then the cops took me to the hospital. This time, they took me to Brylin in Buffalo. I was there for 2 weeks...and put on two different medications. When discharged, I came home.

On September 12th, 1999, I left the homosexual community. I rededicated my life to Christ, and am doing a lot better. I was living with people from the church, and I am getting closer to God. I knew that He was going to bring me back to Him, one way or another, just a matter of when and where.. However, it happened...and I had some wonderful experiences since. I know that the Lord will do anything in His power to Heal His Children. I know that I am a child of God and through Him all things are possible.

It is now February 2000, and I live in Corpus Christi, Texas. I moved to Texas last November. I went to semi-school to become a CNA. I am now Certified as a nurses aide. I am attending a Church and am married to a wonderful man. While here in Texas, I have been able to forgive my parents for the things I had too. We have grown a lot closer since I have moved away from them and believe we will grow even closer. If you or someone you know needs someone to talk to, email me or leave a message on my guestbook. Take care and God Bless.