It's been 7 years. 7 years of me dreaming of finally writing this post, and today is finally the day. I always imagined sitting in the living room in a sunny apartment while I type this, shifting to different positions as the paragraphs get longer.

It's better than I imagined.

Before I get too far. I was known as "awesometori" on the site. The username is still locked, but I can't seem to log in or reset the password, so I just made a new account with some numbers at the end. My journey is splashed throughout the archives (I can't find them). With fretting over caffeine, and tank tops and the treatment of the LGBT community.

My best guess is at 16, back in 2011, I wrote a post about confronting my parents once and for all and asking them to let me leave the church. I never updated you guys, though a friend of mine did tell you that I was ok, and I just didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

There was constant yelling in my house, and they were yelling about something else that day, and I just lost all will to fight, it was exhausting to even think about.

The years of abuse I had been suffering would continue well after that post all those years ago. My father telling me to just get into the car, he doesn't care what I wear. Then gets in my face and spits venom at me about how I won't disrespect the lord in his house by wearing pants (I'm sure I have a rant that exists on this website somewhere about how an all omnipotent being should have something better to do than care about what piece of fabric I'm wearing). He forced me into a prom dress I had set aside for, prom (I ended up wearing something else and threw away that dress), and when I hid in the closet, he pulled me out by my hair and smacked my ass.

There are others I've blocked, years of memories that are fuzzy that my friends have had to help me piece together. I'm not exaggerating when I say I feel I was robbed part of my childhood. The one with being dragged out of the closet, even though I've confronted my father years after the fact and he apologized, still sticks with me. I want to find it in my heart one day to forgive him, but the wound still feels fresh.


There were times I tried to get it through to my parents that I wanted to make my own decision about participating in religion. They didn't respond to logic and reason and had no sense of communication, so I would try childish things to get through to them.

One time, I left the house to ride my bike for a few hours at the time we were supposed to leave for church. I got accused of running away. The next week my brother did the same thing, and I was sleeping on the couch, sick (I can't remember if I actually was or not, I had constant health problems living in a house where my sister never did her one chore of vacuuming, so my allergies were constantly set off, and my asthma would be triggered too by my mother constantly smoking pot and cigarettes around me), and my mother stares daggers at me and spits. "Look what you started."

Another time, I decided to walk around the building while sacrament(?), the first hour of three was commencing. My brother and sister came out to "check on me", and I walked around for who knows how long. I walked over to my friend's house who lived right by the church. It was early and I knew her family would be sleeping so I sat on their back step, hidden from the street just watching the backyard. Their doorbell rang and I had a feeling it was missionaries or my father looking for me. The family was fast asleep and never answered the door.

Another time I walked over a mile to another friend, and hid for the day. These actions would get my phone taken away and I know where to find all the ways to send text messages through a computer now because of it. These are just some of the instances I remember. I would be punished arbitrarily for other things, and now I see that it was through anger at me not conforming to the church, because the punishments were never clear, consistent, and never had an end date. I just stopped adhering to the punishment at some point, and my parents stopped enforcing it.

I am literally writing a book on the events from that post back in 2011 to this day, so let me try to give you the cliff notes version.

The cycle of abuse and me trying to get it through my father's head that I wasn't going was a pattern of me trying to get through each Sunday, and dreading each Sunday as soon as the day passed. That is, until the first Sunday of the year 2013. I'm halfway through my senior year, my father has lessened the abuse, it's come down to questions every now and then, with never knowing when my "no" is going to turn into hitting or a loud fight. I had fallen asleep on the living room couch, I think I had hosted a dungeons and dragons game the night before. I was so exhausted by the time I fell asleep it was one of the few nights I fell asleep without anxiety about the day of rest. I wake up to the sound of the garage door opening and closing. The house is empty and silent.

I spend the next three hours panicked about the retribution I will face when my father comes home. He doesn't acknowledge the change when he comes home, as is typical in his avoidant style of communication. As we're cooking dinner, he mentions casually a talk was given about a son and a father. The father trying to force the son into the religion, and the son resisting. He made sure how to point out how both were at fault, and made a comment about how the father ruined his relationship with his son because he didn't let him forge his own path to God.

That would be the closest I'd get to an apology for many years.

I was working as a balloon artist, brother was stealing money from me, so I never got to save any money (though with how little I was making, it hardly mattered). Parents were getting evicted, and had no room for me where they were going to live in middle of nowhere New Mexico. I decided to try to strike it out on my own. I was working a call center job, found a sweet roomshare situation. I had broken up with my high school boyfriend, was dating a new guy, and we had our own baggage that made it difficult for us to sludge through the under a year we dated. I was terrible with money, and was struggling to make my very cheap rent each month. Got fired from my job a week before I was planning on driving to Michigan to try to get into a college there. I had picked one at random, that was difficult to get into, and decided to go for it.

Some guy on Craigslist, who was probably a rapist offered his home for free while I waited to go an hour north to the school. I'm driving in my PT Cruiser. Before I even get out of Colorado, I roll over my car, and end up in the hospital. I got out with just a broken wrist. My grandmother picks me up and I buy a greyhound ticket to New Mexico to stay with my parents until I'm recovered.

Then I remember why I hated living with my family. I have a hard time showering, my cast stinks, and my sister and my mother constantly make comments about my appearance. I try to make friends, but it's all horny guys who think they can change my mind. I get depressed and suicidal. My father takes me to the hospital, the whole way me wanting to scream at him that it's his fault. They say they want to put me in a psych ward. I'm in three day old clothes, and they say if I leave to get clothes and come back, they can't put me in a psych ward. The nurse at the ER says "You seem better." (I wasn't)

I get sent home, and I keep my suicidal tendencies hidden better.

More fights with my father, some confrontation over issues. He smacks my ass because I made some comment that upset him. I told him that he can't do that to me, it's not ok. He walks away, comes back and apologizes. Now the second time an adult has apologized to me ever in my life and I just kind of shut down. The first time being my second boyfriend's mother.

I decide to go to LA to be an actress. I couchsurf for 11 days, end up homeless on the streets of California. It's the first of the month, and I can't pay my phone bill and have no way to contact anybody. A stranger in a car picks me up, takes me to Denny's, I wish I could remember his name. He says that people he meets like me become famous, I'm still waiting for that. He helps me get to a Greyhound station, I spend the last of the money I have going to Colorado. My parents are trying to strike it out in Texas, living in a motel, and I don't want to go anywhere near that mess.

I live with my friend for a month, her father acts like I'm a mooch who isn't doing anything. I'm working part time, getting minimum wage, and wants to charge me a rent I can't afford. I cry to the family next door that I'm friends with. Having a breakdown when we're supposed to be out celebrating father's day. They are moving to Texas in two days. They offer for me to come with them, and promise me a year rent free to get back on my feet.

I accept after sleeping on it, have to break the news to my friend, I'm moving on her 21st birthday, and she's devastated. She accuses me of being a teenager, and being everything I hate after a couple weeks of being gone, because I wasn't communicating about how upset I was. I have a panic attack that wakes up the house, and they convince me to not cut ties with her, even though in that moment I was so angry that I could have blocked her and never looked back. I'm glad I didn't, but I had a mountain of hurt piling on me, and I couldn't get her to see that.

I stay with these friends in Corpus Christi Texas. Facing a cycle of needing a job to have a car, but having no money for a car, and my license being revoked because me rolling over the car got me a reckless driving ticket (no one else was involved, the cop didn't like me, that's typical, the nurses were really angry at him). I am seeing no way out of this cycle, they don't want to ferry me around to my job, which I understand, they had two kids they were driving to their jobs and college every day, and they were already doing so much for me.

I found a cruise ship job. Nailed my interview. I flew out with about $100, and spent most of it on uniforms and necessities for the boat. The company flew me out to Connecticut for the interview, flew me back to Corpus Christi for a week, where I was on a high about getting my dream job. I almost quit my first week because I don't get along with sorority type girls, and they thought I was weird for being ecstatic about getting paid to travel. I told them on the 6th day that I quit. As I went through the day, I thought about the cycle I'd go back home to, and how I don't have a way out at home.

I decided to stay on the boat.

I'm still terrible with money at this point, so I walked off the boat with almost nothing. I have a hard time making any friends on the boat, and the few friends I do make are either guys trying to get into my pants, or I feel disconnected from them because we have few common interests. My parents are getting divorced while I'm on the boat. My mother gets kicked out with no money, and has barely started a job after being out of the workforce for twenty years.

My mother offers for me to live with her, she practically lives in a crack den. She's sick, lost scores of pounds because she's not eating. The house is always filled with smoke, and I'm sure it was more than just pot her roommates were smoking. I'm coughing up a lung every day and can't sleep anymore. I go back to the friend whose father wanted to charge me ridiculous rent.

I state I'll only be living there for a little over a month. He wants to charge me a rent I can't afford, so I reach out to the friend who gave me a ride down to this city. His parents are more than happy to take me in rent free.

They let me stay for a little over a month, their family buys me Christmas presents, and I now have another pair of parents who view me as their adopted daughter. I still walk their dog weekly.

I went to Florida to get some boat safety training, wanting to get back into this career, I didn't want to be back on land for as long as I have. I call my dad and ask about coming back to live with him and grandma. I am exhausted of bouncing from place to place, I just want a place I can call home. I've asked before in the midst of these moves to come home, and I wasn't allowed, so when I got told "Yes", I didn't want to believe it.

He told me that it's different, that grandma is more lax since my mother doesn't live there anymore (my mother would smoke pot in the basement, even after being told a dozen times it's not allowed). After I came home from my boat safety training, I got to live in a place where I started to feel like I wouldn't be kicked out at a moment's notice.

I went to another boat job for another 4 months, not a much better story than the first time. Took my friend (the one I almost cut ties with when we moved on her birthday) to Disneyland to thank her for being there for me through it all. Took my mom to Florida with a douche co-worker. I wanted a buffer between my mom and I, when we couldn't go on the cruise, he got irritated at one snide comment my mother said, and left us abandoned in Florida. I lost my wallet (I do not know how I got on a plane back home). Had a miserable time with my mother, and she almost convinced me to get a tattoo.

Went back to my abusive boyfriend, had an awful off and on relationship for over a month. Finally cut it off for good. Got therapy after realizing that I'm a bit fucked up. That was life changing. Started dropping a lot of people in my life that were super toxic. Started setting boundaries with my mother, much to her chagrin. She had been battling cancer for a year prior, and I spent a year convinced my mother was going to die any day now. My mental health can't take it anymore, I don't get health updates anymore, and I'm worried that her getting a reaction out of her dying, but refusing to plan is going to put me in tons of debt when she does pass suddenly because she treats her body like a human garbage can. I'm the eldest, so this would fall on me.

Got sterilized in January of 2017. Went to a fast food job in April of 2017. Walked out after getting yelled at over fried pickles, when I had spent every day for the past month at this job being treated like I was the dumbest person on the planet while they refused to actually train me. Accidentally fell for a good friend of mine while everyone else was convinced we were already a thing. We started dating, I went to a temp agency to find a job. Happened upon a nice warehouse job.

Started to finally hold myself accountable for my financial status and started with just giving myself a daily spending limit. This turned into slowly tricking myself into balancing my checkbook. I now have good financial health, know my credit score, and talking about taking out loans for college in a year or so. Started saving up enough to move out, my grandmother would freak out at my father for my boyfriend staying the night. We almost got married just to make her happy. My mother freaked out, guilt tripped me, and I couldn't go through with it after talking to her. I also felt like it was letting my hypocritical Mormon grandmother win.

My father and I develop a much better relationship and get along. I get along very well with his new wife, and she is a very kind person. She's been a great influence on my father. My father hasn't pushed the issue of me falling away from the church in years.

I took my friend (the one I took to Disneyland) to New York City to see Wicked on Broadway, something I'd promised for about 8 years. It was incredible, worth the wait, and magical. We had a lovely time. I flew back to Colorado. Then yesterday we moved, and this morning the day finally came where I promised I'd post on this site again.

It never felt like the right time every time I moved before. I wasn't taking care of myself. I was still a mental wreck. I knew I wasn't in a stable situation. Now, I am. I feel confident whatever happens, I'll get through it. I've been lying in bed, living in sin with my beautiful boyfriend, who makes my life story look like a picnic in the park. We're talking about making goals for travelling full time. That's where the college loan talk is coming from, because we'll have to get degrees to teach English abroad (one of the many things we're considering).

I still have a lot of healing to do. I'm still having revelations about how I view the world because of my abuse. My work is actually helping me on a "personal development" plan for this very reason. Oh! And I got a promotion a few months ago, and a raise that helped make this move possible.

We live in a gorgeous townhouse with a wonderful friend we met at a board game convention a few months ago. A convention I almost left because I was having a miserable time. It's a gorgeous day outside, the room is a wreck. Music is playing on my boyfriend's phone while he plays a game, and I couldn't be happier. I'm going to go downstairs soon to make pancakes, because we took today off work to enjoy each other and to do the last couple of errands we couldn't finish yesterday.

For those of you who are still living with your parents, teenagers that are trying to get through. It does get better. I promise. There were so many times it felt hopeless. My mantra was. "It has to get better." I would repeat that over and over and over again until I believed it. Whatever you need to do to get through it, whoever you need to reach out to. Take care of yourself. Remember that you are loved, remember that there are good people in this world. I had SO much help, every step of the way in my journey. I had so much love and support surrounding me, even when I refused to see it. All that love and support finally got me to where I am today, writing this post like I always dreamed I would be able to do one day. It's not how I envisioned, it's a million times better. You will join me here one day. I promise. *Huuugs*

Your story is a wonderful story of survival and perseverance. I can see that you must have a charismatic personality and that you have some talent in writing out your thoughts. The way you describe your boyfriend as "beautiful" is very revealing of your tender feelings toward him. I'm glad that you have found someone in your life that helps you to find the best version of yourself.

I suggest that you do pursue an education to take your life to the next level. A mind like yours should not be wasted. Do not settle for mediocrity because you have proven to yourself that you can rise above life's challenges. It took some time, but ultimately you have found yourself in a very good place.

If you would like to find your prior postings, use the search function on the site.

Good luck on your journey! Not everyone ends up as fortunate as you when their past is riddled with experiences of abuse and hostility. You will find healing with your future accomplishments. You will prove to your naysayers that you are much more of a person than they ever expected. Carry on.

You've been through a lot, but you are a survivor.

Normally I don't encourage people to go into teaching, but I think that ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Languages) is probably one of the better teaching specialties. Normally ESOL teachers only work with small groups of kids, and they don't have the testing and data collection pressure that regular classroom teachers have. Plus most of the immigrant kids and families that I've worked with have been great. There are a lot of jobs available, and as you point out, overseas teaching is an option.

Good luck, and keep updating us!