Moving on by Gabrielle

Moving on by Gabrielle - December 2016 Scholarship Essay

In the past seventeen years of my life, I have only had one major accomplishment. On April 6, 2014 I finally told my family about the addiction that I had battled with for two years. At first they didn’t know how to take it. There were many tears, questions, and a lot of yelling, but we got through it together. This is an accomplishment for me because to this day I remain clean.
I know you’re wondering what I was addicted to. No, it wasn’t drugs. It wasn’t alcohol. My addiction was a blade. Most people think that when people self-harm, it's for attention. For me it was a coping mechanism.
It all started when I was in seventh grade, my grandmother passed away. I can remember seeing her there, lying in her bed in our home. Her once loving face, now pale and stiff from rigor mortis. Her arms were cold to the touch. I blamed myself, I should’ve said goodbye one more time before I left for school, I should’ve told her that I loved her a second time that morning. That is when it happened for the first time, from that first moment when the blade went across my skin, I knew I was hooked.
As time went on, my addiction died down. However, my aunt had began to tell me things from my mother's past that struck home with me. She had told me that my mom didn’t know who my dad was, that they had to do a DNA test so that the could know that he was my father. As I dug deeper into history between my mother and father, I learned things that crushed my soul. I cried for days upon days. I didn’t speak to anyone. I did not see a reason to be on earth. My father wanted me aborted, my mother kept me hidden for close to three years after she had told him that she “took care of it”. This weighed hard on me. Why would she keep me a secret? Why would she let him believe that she had aborted me? I took my issues out that I had with others on my own body.
After years of personal mutilation on my body, I finally came clean. I told my mother that I was self harming, specifically cutting myself. My mother did not take it well, and attempted to have me committed into Rockford mental institution. My father just pushed the responsibility of resolving my mental and emotional issues to my mom. My mother cried as she saw what I had done to myself. I didn't mean to hurt her. I didn't mean to make her feel like she wasn't a good parent. I just wanted to make me feel better about things, better about things that didn't involve me.
My mother through my tough recovery was my rock. Many nights we had argued that ended with tears and apologies. She and my stepfather (Who in june I asked to legally adopt me) are my supporters in anything I do. Between culinary arts events, cheerleading, or work they have always made sure that I’ve been able to be there. I’ve forgiven my mother for the things that happened, and the way things were handled, but I have never had closure with my father about our issues.
Though my family members such as aunts, uncles, and grandparents talk to me, my father has never spoken about it with me. Any time that I attempted to talk to him about it, he’d immediately shut the topic down, or leave the room. In recent events I’ve seen that he’s handled things differently. I got into my first car accident on my way to work. After everything was taken care of with the police, and I was back at home, I called him. I told him what had happened and all he could talk about was how much the insurance was going to go up, how he should’ve never trusted me to be on his insurance. He never not once asked if I was okay. He was only worried about money, not how I was. That made me realize that he doesn’t care. That he never cared.
Living with my scars, have made me learn to have self confidence, and wear my scars with pride and that they are who made me the person I am today. Through overcoming my addiction I’ve gotten a fire in my belly to finally go above and beyond. I now am outgoing. I now perceiver through my battles, and struggles. I also now look at world in a new light. Once drab and dreary full of depression, and sorrow now bright and colorful, full of joy and happiness