my life story

Well, this would be my full life story. I am putting as much info into this as possible. Here goes, hope you like me!
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Okay, so I was born on September 1, 1993 in Wichita Falls, Texas. I have one older brother, named Michael. My mom’s name is Dana, and I don’t consider him “daddy”, but the guy who chose to put his name on my birth certificate even though it wasn’t biological is named Daryl. When I was 3, my mom was in the Navy and we were stationed in Corpus Christy, Texas. I remember a few things about living there, like cutting my hair, being able to ride my bike, sleeping over at a neighbor’s house and getting scared and sneaking out and going to where we lived looking for my mom-who was at work. I don’t remember where my dad was at the time, but I can’t remember if this happened after my dad moved back to Wichita Falls to be with his other family, or not.

Most of my life, my brother and I lived with my mom, and life was always pretty unstable. My mom has a mental illness. She is diagnosed with PTSD (Post-traumatic Stress Disorder), Borderline Personality disorder, as well as Bipolar Disorder. Going back as far as I can remember, the first memories I have after the ones I had from Corpus, were when I was 4. My mom, being a single mother of 2, did what I would guess most single mothers would do. She tried to find people to help her with her kids. She also tried to get away and go out as much as possible. Maybe this isn’t normal but I’m not sure what “normal” is. I guess you could say that our life was always pretty abnormal, no matter what I like to think. From the earliest time I can remember, my mom, brother, and I moved about every 3-6 months. My mom was moving us in with complete strangers sometimes, people she barely knew for more than maybe a couple of weeks. Anyways, when I was 4, she met this guy named Fred. Fred had 2 kids, Jonathan and Eric. Jonathan was about 14 and Eric was about 9 or so. We moved into a beat up rugged looking trailer park thing with Fred and his 2 sons. The memory that sticks out in my mind about that time of my life was that one of the rooms had a lock on the inside of it. I remember seeing the lock and being like “MOM, I want THIS room!” and my mom saying no, because that room was Jonathans. I remember that the house was a 3 bedroom and Jonathan had one room, Michael had another, my mom and fred had the other, and that left me an Eric with a full size bed in the living area. I remember one night I woke up and realized that I was in Jonathan’s arms. I was half asleep and he was taking me to his room. He then locked the door and laid me on his bed, and waking me up long enough for me to take my underwear off. I don’t know how I did this, but I remember that I kept slipping in and out of sleep the whole time, and I do not remember waking up back in my own bed. Im not sure how many times jonathan did this, but I do know that every time he took me back into his room, he molested me. He performed oral sex on me, and did a lot of touching.
 My mom says that we moved out of the house that we shared with Fred and his kids after about a month. I don’t know why, but after we moved out of this house, I completely forgot about all the abuse that happened with Jonathan. I don’t ever remember thinking about this at all until 3rd grade.
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Im not sure what happened next, but my mom kept moving us around. The next thing that I remember happening was that when I was in 2nd grade, my mom met her biological family. She was adopted and had never known her biological family. I remember the day that we met her family, I was at the YMCA in Wichita and I got in an argument with a person named Danielle. I didn’t think anything of it until that night when my mom was on the phone and came up to me and was like “did you get in a fight with Danielle?” I was like “who the heck is that?!” Well, a few hours later, Danielle, Sierra, and Caitlynn, cousins that I didn’t know about came over to meet us for the first time. I just remember that we ran around the apartment complex that we lived in all night. It was one of the best nights of my life.
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Then comes 3rd grade. The grade that a million and one things happened. I was in a class with 19 other kids, all who were colored. Now, I am not, nor will ever be racist, but I say that because I was the only white kid in the class. INCLUDING the teacher! Needless to say, that was a tough year. I was bullied non-stop all year, and it seemed like no one even cared. One day we came in from recess, and I was sitting in my desk when one of the girls in my class came up and slapped me in the face out of no-where. I was scared that they were all going to join in and beat me up, so I started crying. Everyone just started laughing and I was furious. I always liked school, but that year, I never wanted to go to school and I definitely didn’t want to have anything to do with school work because I felt like no one cared anyways, so why was I going to bust my butt in school? They decided to give me a mentor, and I was really excited because all the other kids had mentors, and I wanted one too. All of their mentors were high school kids, and I just assumed that I would get a high school mentor too. I wasn’t that lucky, you see, I got a mentor who was about 50 years old, and was always on  my butt about school work and I didn’t like it at all.  Well, school was going horribly, but things at home were okay. My mom let a guy named Jason move in with us, and I liked him quite a lot. About this time, I had started remembering the abuse that I suffered at the hands of Jonathan. I don’t know when or how or why, but I woke up one night in my moms bed and simply said “mom, remember jonathan? He molested me.” Some people ask me what my mom did after I told her, and the answer was that she took me to coffee at Denny’s down the road from where we lived. I know that we filed a report against jonathan at the police station, and I had an exam done by my pediatrician to see if he did any damage to my insides during the abuse, but that was about it. My mom didn’t get me into therapy or anything else until my freshman year of High School.

 4th grade was about the time that my eating problems started to come into play. I don’t think I had a full out eating disorder at the time, but I do remember that I did A LOT of restricting at the time. I remember that I was only 60 or so lbs and I didn’t tell anyone but I always thought I was fat. I knew that my body was beginning to change, so I would secretly get in trouble at school, so I would get to exercise. I went to a charter school, so if we got in trouble, we had to run around the courtyard. I didn’t have very many friends, but I do remember that the few friends I had, I confided in about the abuse. I feel that that was probably part of the reason why they didn’t stick around long. I was in 4th grade, my friends didn’t know how to deal with that!

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5th grade was a funny year. I don’t remember a whole lot about that year, mostly because I didn’t do very much. My mom was very unstable at this time, and was having a hard time keeping my brother and I in school, so she decided to homeschool my brother. Well, of course I used this to my advantage! I liked school, but I got the chance to stay home from school every day and I used that to my advantage. I conned my mom into “homeschooling” me too. Our idea of homeschooling was sitting at home all day and doing nothing. My mom worked 12 hours a day from 12 noon to midnight. I like to say that I didn’t really go to fifth grade because it was true. We said I was going to school, but neither my brother, myself, or my mom were equipped to homeschool.

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 Next comes 6th grade. The summer before my 6th grade year, my mom got a job in Duncan Oklahoma so there we moved! We moved into a very nice house in Duncan, next to our landlord, a 60 year old man. I really thought he was nice, he treated my brother and I very nicely. He took us out to dinner, he let me drive his truck (weird), he said I looked like Hilary duff (weirder), he always called me beautiful. These were all things that I desperately needed to hear, as I didn’t have very good self-esteem at the time anyways. He always walked with me to the park, and a lot of the time, I ended up playing in the creek at the park. When I think back, I remember always thinking that he was going to touch me and then somehow I pictured myself dead in the very creek that I was swimming in. I really liked his company, and I thought he liked mine, and I thought it was just because I was a cool person. I soon found out that I was wrong. One night really late, I wanted to go to the park, like always, and I decided to ask him to go with me. (why, I have NO idea!). We were having a very nice time at the park and I remember being on one of the swings, and I don’t remember how I got off, but somehow I got off, and before I knew it, I was in his arms and he was kissing me on the lips. As soon as I could, I was out of his arms gathering my dog and running home. I was terrified of the dark, but I knew I had to get home as soon as possible. As soon as I got home, I went straight to my room. I absolutely knew that I needed to tell my mom what he did, but I just didn’t know how. All the sudden, I had an idea. I made myself start crying, and went into the living room and got in front of her where she could see me. She took one look at me and was like “Chelsea, whats wrong?!” I just broke down and told her everything that happened. I remember her looking really upset and pushing me up off her lap and running out the door to confront him about this. The whole time I was running home, he was behind me saying stuff like “no one will believe you, I will hate you forever, why are you doing this?!” I knew that she was going to confront him, and I was completely terrified so I started screaming at the top of my lungs “DON’T GO MOM, PLEASE DON’T GO!” I remember that my brother came out of his room and had no idea what was going on. I cried all night because I was so upset thinking that he would hate me. After that, our landlord kicked us out, saying that we lived like “filthy niggers” or something along the lines. I was glad to get out of that place, it had way too many memories for me. School was going rather horribly at this point. My brother had dropped out of school at this point, and I was pretty much on my way towards doing the same thing. I hated my teachers and since I didn’t go to 5th grade, I didn’t know anything about what they were trying to teach me. My teachers pretty much hated me too, except for 1, mrs bowling. My mom was very very unstable at this point, she quit her job at the hospital in Duncan, and my brother and I didn’t know it, but she was really suicidal. She was going to a lot of AA meetings at the time, so I thought she was doing great. I had no idea she was depressed until one day in April 2006, when my mom dropped my brother and I off at the YMCA and went to an aa meeting. We tried to get her to go swimming with her, but she wouldn’t. she said she would come back and go swimming with us. She didn’t come back. My brother and I waited until like 11 or 12 pm with no idea where my mom was, and no one to call. I cant believe that thinking back I didn’t think anything was wrong. I thought maybe she had gone home and went to sleep and forgot to pick us up. That is until her AA sponsor came to pick us up instead of my mom. She told us to get in the car, and when we did, she asked us if there was anything that we knew of that my mom could have gotten ahold of that could make her sick. I didn’t know what she meant. I later found out tht my mom wnt to that AA meeting to take a whole bunch of pills trying to kill herself. My moms sponsor’s next question was “who can you call to come and get you?” I called my aunt carolyn and she came to get my brother and I the next day. We ended up moving to my dads. They were going to send me to my aunt lana’s, and my brother to my dads, but I insisted to go with my brother. I couldn’t handle being separated from him too, and I missed my dad.
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 The next two years were both sad and great. I had no idea where my mom was, and if she would be alive the next week or not, but at the same time, I had tons of friends and I was making A’s and B’s in school. My eating on the other hand was not so great. When I first moved to my dads, my little sister, 8 at the time, decided that she wanted to tell me I was fat. I never thought of myself as chunky, and didn’t even think I had any problems with food. Until she said stuff like “you weight sooo much chelsea, you need to go on a diet!” I didn’t care what I ate, or how much. After she said that, it was on, I started completely restricting, and barely eating anything but a piece of cheese every couple of days.

 I stayed at my dads until the summer before I started high school. My mom was doing A LOT better, and I wanted to get out of my dads abusive household. I moved to my moms house, and I was doing GREAT until my mom got engaged. Until my mom got engaged, I hadn’t had a guy living with us since Jonathan and fred. My mom got engaged to a guy that was about the age of the landlord that I was kissed by in ’06. The moment I found out that my mom was engaged to this guy, I went NUTS. I started having flashbacks and envasive memories, I wouldn’t eat, I COULDN’T eat. I felt so sick all the time. I started to get suicidal and started going into hospitals every 2 months for 2 years. My mom got married on October 18, 2009, and 4 months after that, my moms husband got sick, and tore up our house and everything in it. After that, my mom and him separated and things didn’t get very much better from there. I still had to deal with a lot of chaos with my mom after that. In mid 2010, I came home from school to my mom telling em that she was going to commit suicide. I really didn’t know what to do! By this time, I have had to put my mom in the hospital several times. On that day, after my mom wouldn’t let me have the phone so I could call her therapist, I went next door to use their phone. I couldn’t get ahold of her, so I went back inside to our house and my mom begged me to go out to eat with her – and said I could call in the morning if I needed. I went to school the next day and went to my counselor’s office, told her what had been goin on, and she had been wanting me to go back to my dads for a while. So I called my moms therapist and then made the dredded call to my dad telling him that I needed to come back to texas with him. I packed up and moved later that day, for close to 9 months. I moved back with my mom in January 2011, to find that my eating disorder had gotten worse than ever. I started restricting like crazy, not eating very many calories at all in the beginning of the year, and purging that.

 Now, my eating disorder is semi-okay, although I fear that It will get a whole lot worse when school starts. I haven’t been in the hospital now for 2 months, and I am SOOOO proud of myself for that. Earlier this year, I went into the hospital just about every 2 weeks or so. My PTSD symptoms are still quite strong, I have very invasive thoughts and memories, and I am working on dealing with them now. I will turn 18 in 11 days, and I haven’t cut in almost 2.5 weeks. I know I haven’t talked about my cutting very much during this, but that is definitely an addiction I have. Anyways, well, this is my story!  I hope you liked it.. Message me if you have any questions at all, I will be glad to answer them!

It still hurts - even today.

Im  sitting at my computer, trying to think of a way to put into words how hurt i am right now. It really doesnt make sense to me how my mom can be so quick to say what she says without ever thinking, time after time.

a few minutes ago, i was sitting in the car with my mom, and i was telling her how i wanted to take the courses i didnt get to finish over again. i didnt get to finish them during my sophomore year, because i came home from school one day to find my mom drinking, and telling me that she wanted to commit suicide. Although this came to me as a bit of a shock, it wasnt like i hadn't ever heard this before. In fact, she has tried many more times than i can count to kill herself. i came home, and found her with the biggest cup of booze i had ever seen her with, and asked her what was wrong. She said "im a slut, i should die. im a horrible mother." she kept repeating this over and over again and although i knew none of these things were true, i knew this was nothing to overlook, and that i had to do something quick. She would not let me have the phone because she didnt want me to do what i needed to do in this situation, so i immediately went next door to use the neighbors phone to call her therapist. I could not get ahold of her therapist, and i was really scared at this point. i didnt know if my mom was going to try to commit suicide again like she said she was going to, but she kept begging me to go out to eat and to forget about it. i reluctantly gave in. I remember that we went to Applebees, then we went home and i made sure she got to sleep before writing in my journal and going to bed.

I got up and went to school the next day, wondering what i should do about this. I ended up getting out of class and going to my old counselor, Mrs. Morings office. I told her what had happened the previous day, and i told her that i needed to do something, and as much as i didnt want to, i thought it would be best to go back to my dads. Mrs. Moring and I talked about what other options there were besides going to my dads. I didnt really think that there were any options at the time. As much as i hated to call my dad and tell him that i needed him to come get me and i needed to come live with him again, i knew that the chances of my mom fully committing to treatment with me still living with her would be slim. I called my moms therapist and told her what happened, and she agreed with me that i should go back to my dads. I then called my dad. this was the absolute hardest thing ive EVER had to do. I knew that my dad would take me off my medicine and wouldnt let me go to therapy either. However i bit the bullet and went anyways. My mom went to a 7 week PTSD treatment program, and got herself stabilized and i came back to live with her after 9 months.

My mom has a habit of saying "its YOUR fault that you went to live with your dad that day - not mine." which hurts me every time she says it. It makes me feel like what i did that day was not the right thing to do. i feel like i was selfish for going to live with my dad and i shouldnt have done anything about what she was telling me. I just want to lay in my bed and cry right now, because her saying that again just makes me feel like a piece of crap. Im not sure how i should feel about this, but as soon as i got home i purged everything i had in my stomache. I couldnt take the feelings that were coming up after she said that and being in norman high again. I dont know where my journey is going to go from here, but i am and forever willing to put my mom BACK in the hospital if this ever happens again. Sometimes i regret my decision, but for the most part, i know that my decision was the right one. Im desperately hoping that i will never have to do this again, because it was one of the hardest things i have ever done in my life.

anyways, im done venting for now. Ill be fine i guess, as long as she starts remembering what part SHE had in it.

So many questions, yet so little answers

So, i have been on a really bad sleep schedule lately and its kicking my butt. I should probably be just waking up right now, instead i am still awake having not gone to bed yet..

ive been thinking alot about what im wanting to do in my life, and it seems as though all my life is forever going to be consumed with Ed. Even knowing that, i still dont know if i am ready to give this up yet. I know it is killing me, and i know i am not going to be able to function and pass school without food and proper sleep, but i feel like i need to lose weight more. I lost weight at the beginning of this year and when i stopped bein able to lose weight, i havent lost anymore since.. i was happy at this weight for a while, and now its just not enough anymore.

I was in my EDA meeting yesterday afternoon, and we were talking about how its NEVER enough .. how its never going to BE enough..

I remembered telling a friend who i am in support group with that once i get to a certain number i would be good, and i could think about recovering. The next thought that popped into my head was "BUT if i could get to this smaller number i would be even better!" and my friend was like "even if you get to that number, its still not going to be enough!". i proceeded to tell her "yes, your right! when i get to the second number i still ideally would want to be 15 lbs lighter!" ..

And logically, if i KNOW its never gonna be enough, WHY do i still constantly think about getting to that 3rd number?! why is it ALWAYS in the back of my head? If i know this is bad for me, and i know this could kill me, WHY the heck do i keep doing it.

Anyways, so ive been thinking about going to treatment at a place called Mercy Ministries. Its a free inpatient treatment program and they treat people with eating disorders, as well as people who have had sexual abuse trauma history and/or drug abuse history. My only problem is being able to tell if i am "sick" enough to go. People that i talk to on a regular basis are telling me that i need help and that im gonna die from this if i dont get help soon, but i cant see it! i cant see it at all, and THATS what scares me the most! i mean, seriously, i went over a week without keeping ANYTHING down, and purging 3-5 times a day, and doing over 2 hours of exercise in one day in 108 degree heat, but i ... ugh i just dont know if its really that bad. Is this really that abnormal? its what ive been doing for quite a while, and i cant remember the last time i had a decent relationship with food. Probably in denial. thats what it is. .... uhhh, oh well. well, i think thats all until next time!
Love ya, byee!

Intro to my blog.

Hello my name is Chelsea Bonnin and this is my blog. Ive never blogged before but i thought i should make one because i feel i am in need of being able to express myself through writing.


A little about me-
I am 17 years old, and i have been struggling with an eating disorder for about 5 years and a cutting addiction for 3 years. I have been trying to find the courage to be in recovery for both addictions. Ive decided that im gonna be completely honest about how my life is right now. im not going to sugar coat anything so if you are reading this and struggling with cutting or eating disorder and are easily triggered, plz DONT read this.
I was sexually abused at age 4 too, and that is a big reason why i have my eating disorder and cutting problems. Its so extremely hard to be okay with myself knowing that the person who hurt me when i was younger is probably still out there hurting other kids because i didnt tell soon enough. Its a daily struggle to remember that i am not the cause of him not being caught-that someone should have stepped in and saved me.
I like music (Britt Nicole, Natalie & Amy Grant, Adele, and Mark Schultz), nature, and movies. I dont have many friends except ppl that i have met online, and they are all very dear to me. I love each and every one of them:)


A little about my family-
Well, first off, my parents' names are Dana (40) and Daryl (40) and they are divorced and have been since i was 3 or 4. I have one brother named Michael (21), and 3 step sisters named Rachael (20), Destiny (16) and Amanda (13). My brother is married to a woman named Yente (pronounced Yenta) and has a daughter named Isis, who is turning 1 years old today. My family is my life, although i live 100 miles away from them. A fact that i hate.

Whats going on today?
Today has been quite a boring day. Last night, a friend triggered me by telling me her ways of purging and it totally freaked me out so i had to take my meds early and go to bed. and since i took them for the first time in a while, they knocked me out til like 5:30 pm. Well thats enough until next time! bye guys.