My Eating Disorder

My last time at River Oaks in New Orleans (Feb and March), I was given an official diagnosis of Otherwise Specified Feeding and Eating Disorder. This basically means that I don't fit into the traditional presentations of other more common disorders like Anorexia or Bulimia. I struggle with a combination of restricting, bingeing and purging. One of my friends in River Oaks called it an "equal opportunist" since I take from multiple disorders and combine them. 

My eating disorder had its origins in my childhood. As an infant, I was given the nickname "Hungry Hippo". By the time I was in elementary school, I was considered overweight. I was bullied at school because of my weight. My parents made changes to my diet early on, trying to get my weight under control. Our milk was changed to skim to try to challenge my weight gain. My snacks were changed. My brother had his snacks, I had mine and they were vastly different. It didn't stop me from going on binges of sweets like ice cream and cookies. At one point, I remember eating half of a gallon of ice cream for breakfast, before my mom got up so I could hide it. 

As I grew older, the situation with my weight didn't change. I was repeatedly bullied by other children. At one point, other kids from different schools called me pregnant because of my weight. I was isolated and didn't have many friends. When it came to home life, things were not easy there either. I was made fun of because of my weight. I was repeatedly compared to my brother, who was as skinny as a toothpick. 

My parents repeatedly put me in different sports to try to do something to control my weight. I played soccer for multiple years, a year of softball, and a year of volleyball. I was constantly compared to my brother who was great at sports whereas I sucked. I was never good enough. 

When I was in middle school, I had a friend who's parent followed different diet plans and repeatedly shared them with my parents. My parents forced me to try multiple different diet plans including things like counting points and calories. I never really followed them much but I was still forced to try them.

My parents were always looking for ways to "control" my weight. When I was in high school, a new idea was found. My parents bought protein bars to replace meals, specifically breakfast. My snacks were switched to things like rice cakes. It was at this point that I started skipping meals. Many days, I would not eat breakfast simply because I didn't want to eat the disgusting protein bars. 

Clothing shopping was a miserable experience. Every time I went up in size, I was given hell about it. I remember one time when we were at Kohl's shopping for summer clothes, my parents had picked out some clothes for me to try on. All were the same size. When it came to the point that I could not fit in that size anymore, my mom had to go back and find clothes in the next size up. When my dad found that out, he yelled at me in the middle of the store. I was so embarrassed and upset that I bolted to another part of the store and hid. I remember my parents paging me over the intercom and I got yelled at again when I went back to my parents. My weight was always a problem for them and it could never be good enough because I didn't look like my brother who was their dream child. 

My weight never lived up to my parent's dreams and expectations. So my eating disorder has now taken it's place.

I've had good times and bad times with my eating disorder. Times when eating hasn't been a difficult for me and times where it has. I've struggled with bingeing most of my life. I've never really gotten to the point where I will eat three meals in a day. It's something I have also struggled with. My restricting has gotten to the severity of me not eating at all for days and eating very little if I do eat. 

Purging entered my life in 2017 where I would go through periods of time where I didn't eat and then would eat a lot at one time and turn around and purge it. (See my post about it here). I have struggled with purging off and one since it started in 2017. 

Currently my eating disorder looks like restricting, eating one meal a day if that or maybe 2 if it's a good day. I will binge on different sweets and turn around and purge. Purging can happen for multiple days in a row and then stop for a while and then return the next time I want to binge. It's a daily struggle with my eating. 

My eating disorder is heavily tied into my trauma which makes it even more difficult to tackle because all the trauma that goes along with it has to be addressed along with the eating. It's going to be an uphill battle to get to some normalcy, if that will happen again. It may not. Time will tell. 

Poems from Treatment #3

 These are two poems I wrote surrounding my discharge at River Oaks.

Discharge is here

It's time to get out

But why in my mind

Do I have so much doubt

Discharge means change

Change is always hard

And that to me means 

I need to put up my guard

I can't wrap my head around it

It's hard to see

That discharge is real

It's what's meant to be

The work is not done 

The struggles are not over

The pain is still there

Lurking over my shoulder

I'm worried

I'm scared

That when I get out

I won't make it out there

The fear is close

The doubt is clear

That I'll never make it

I'll just end up back here

I'm not sure I can do this

There's no one holding my hand

I have to get up on my own two feet

I'll have to stand

I'm worried 

I'm scared

That once I get out

I won't be prepared

The terror, the fear

Are constant reminders

Reminders of everything

Constantly here

Reminders of the future

Reminders of the past

I'm just not sure

How long I can last

My time here was fruitful

I did the hard work

I just wish it didn't need to end

End with no hurt

I'm afraid of the loss

That I know is about to come

That signals "put your guard up"

Or turn around and run

I'm losing someone

Someone special in my life

The first therapist I trusted

With all my pain, my strife

I feel alone

In this journey I fight

Because no one really understands 

Everything I've let come into the light

My guard goes back up

It never left me

I've let people too close

Let people see

It's fearful

It's scary

But it's something totally normal

Totally ordinary

The fear

The doubt

Continue to show themselves

Just keep coming out

I'm scared 

I'm worried

Because all of this

Seems totally hurried

I'm terrified

I'm fearful

That the outside world

Won't be nearly as cheerful

I'm still in shock

I'm still in pain

But now there is something

Something to gain

The pain I have

The struggle I run

It seems it's never over

Never completely done

This pain 

This struggle

It something I'll always have

Something I have to learn to juggle

I know healing's a process

One that never ends

It starts with me

My fences to mend

Healing never ends

There's always work to be done

But that doesn't mean

I can turn around and run

This place is safe

This place is why

I need to let go

Spread my wings and fly

Poem #2

I've been here a while

Worked on many things

But now it is time

I fly on my wings

The journey's been rough

It's been a fight

Maybe this will help me

Help me see the light

It's time for me

To enter the world

To take my first steps

My legs uncurled

The process has been good

It's helped me to see

That maybe this time

I'll be able to stand on my own two feet

I can't say

I'm not afraid

To fall back into my habits

To lose the progress I've made

I still need help 

The fight isn't over

I still need

To look over my shoulder

My eating disorder

It cannot win

I must be strong

I need to put the work in

It's such a battle

But I must win the war

My suicidal thoughts

That live in my core

Self-harms a struggle

Another one I need to face

So I can win this battle

This war, this race

My trauma is hard

It won't go away

At least immediately

It's here to stay

At the same time

Progress has been made

Some of trauma's power

Has been taken away

My trauma is real

But I'm not to blame

Now I can see

I can let go of the shame

My emotions are valid

They're safe to express

I'm able to show them

They're okay to address

Anger is normal

Anger is okay

It doesn't mean I'll turn into my dad

In any fashion, any way

My life has changed 

Even in small ways

I can take back some freedom

To conquer new days

It's time now

For this chapter to end

Time to let go 

Time to let myself mend

I know there's a loss

Of something special to me

A therapist I trusted

One who has been a key

A key to my progress

A key to my fight

But now that is over

It's time to reach a new height

I know there will be sadness

There will be pain

But I must remember

How much I gained

Now it's time 

To turn to a new page

This time is over

Time to start a new age

I've loved my time

That I spent here

But now it is over

My real life is near

I can make it outside

With all that I've learned

I'm stronger inside

There is so much I earned

Now it's time

To say goodbye

It's up to me 

I'm willing to try

I will always remember

All the good times

But it's time now

Time for me to fly

I can do this

I know I can

Today I'm ready

Ready to stand

Poems from Treatment #2

 I wrote this poem while I was struggling with my thoughts and feelings towards the end of my time at River Oaks. I felt very hopeless at the time. 

It's been a shitty day
I feel so alone
In this battle called life
I'm on my own

I want to purge
I want to self-harm
Maybe if I do
I'll raise the alarm

I'm not okay
I'm not well
I would hope
That this would be easy to tell

My journey is ending
I have to say good-bye
But all I want to do
Is to go in a corner and cry

Many things have gone wrong
One after the other
Will it continue to happen
I don't even want to bother

Isolated and in pain
Things just don't work out
There's nothing to gain
Nothing to cry about

My life sucks
It's easy to see
I have no hope in life
All I have is me

It's sad to hear
The question why
Or even a question about my life
"Do you want to die?"

Die I do want
I want to give up
I guess my answer
To the question is "Yup"

I need a break
I need a way out
Of all this pain I'm in
Is this what life's about

I'm drowning
In a sea of pain
Of suffering, of misery
I'm no longer sane

I'm done with this life
I've got more
Can the end be here?
Can I exit the door?

This next poem I wrote while I was struggling with an urge to purge

My eating disorder
It always wins
I can't handle it
It makes me tense

I feel alone in this battle
No one understands
The struggle inside of me
I feel like I'm on a different land

It's got control
It's got power
It makes me anxious
Every single hour

I can't eat
Food is bad
It's scary, dangerous
It makes me mad

It's always there
The want to purge
I can't stand it
Can't stand the urge

It is a constant thing
On whether to purge or restict
It's something I know always comes
It's easy to predict

It's every day
A constant fight
I don't know
If I'll be alright

People can help
But even then
It's my struggle 
My battle to win

But I don't know if I can
I'm in too deep
It's an uphill battle
And the hill is very steep

I wish I could
Just go back
To things before
Before it got out of whack

I feel hopeless
I always lose
This battle inside
Is not one I choose

I can't do this
I can't move forward
Will progress ever come
Is it really something to work toward

I wish people knew
So they would get it
But then they'd be miserable
Just like me a little bit

My self-esteem

It totally sucks

I wish I could hide

Wish I wasn't stuck

I'm ugly, I'm fat

This is what my head tells me

That I'll never be good enough

It's what other people see

I can't win

It's too hard

I'll always be stuck

Never escape the guard

I don't know what else to say

To make people understand

This insane mind of mine

This crazy land

My mind never stops

It always perseveres

It's been like this

For so many years

I can't live like this

Not anymore

Is there any hope for me?

Is there any door?

I want this to end

I don't see a way out

There's only one way

That's what this is ultimately about

My life doesn't matter

Only my size

That's all people see

All those who are wise

I can't do this anymore

I'm done fighting 

Can this just be over

Can we stop denying

Things will never get better

I'll always be this way

My eating disorder's not going anywhere

It's here to stay

I guess I just have to let go

No need to run

No more fighting

Give up, I'm done

Timeline and Reflections

This the timeline I created of my life up to age 18 when I was at River Oaks. Some incidents are just named, and further explanation will come from another post

1) Physical abuse started at age 6 - 3 years after my brother was born - Used paint stick

2) Age 6 - First signs of mental illness - threats of suicide

3) Bead incident - mom broke stick on my brother

4) Larger paint stick introduced - "Home of the finest pain"

5) Remote went missing incident

6) Friend’s dad talked to my dad on the phone

7) Elementary school – mom offered my brother and I alcohol

8) Age 8/9 – told me not to cry – only babies cry

9) 4th grade – First time I realized I was being abused

a.     Talked to teacher and school counselor who did nothing

10) Age 10 - takeover of all household responsibilities

a.     Included cooking, cleaning, laundry, emotionally supporting my mom

11) Played soccer as a child – never good enough, compared to brother

12) Age 10 – sexual trauma started with perpetrator

13) Age 10 – sexual trauma with friend

    a. Camping episode of sexual trauma

    b. Sexual trauma with perpetrator

      i.    Almost caught twice

14) Belt incident – Summer after 4th grade

15) Expectation to run up and down the stairs- waiting hand and foot on my mom with food and medication

16) 5th grade – Dad threatened to kill me

17) Between 5th and 6th grade – my dad almost kicking my brother and I out – giving us away – getting rid of us

18) 5th grade – called a drama queen after getting upset over bullying

19) Middle school – told chores come before homework

Timeline Reflection for first 19 events:

         This first section affected how I felt about myself because it taught me that my voice didn't matter, that there was no point in reaching out because I wouldn't be heard. This section taught me that my emotions were bad and unacceptable, that I had to walk on eggshells. This section taught me that my needs didn't matter and that I don't matter, only the way I could serve my parents mattered.

This taught me to have a low self-image and to deny asking for my needs because they didn't matter. It made me feel small, insignificant, and fearful. Fear was the expectation, I was taught to be fearful, even at one point for my life. I lived in fear, never knowing what was coming next or what to expect.

In the present moment, this affects me through not feeling comfortable expressing my emotions. It takes a lot to make me cry because I was crying was not acceptable. Instead, I bottle up my emotions and don't let other people see me upset because I was taught that emotions meant weakness. This also affects me in the present day because I have a hard time speaking up for myself and asking for my needs and using my voice. I live in fear a lot of the time, fear of making a mistake or saying something wrong. I generally feel bad about myself and have little self-esteem or self-compassion.    

 

20) 6th grade forward – Grades were never good enough – even straight A’s

21) 6th grade – made me go on points and calorie counting plan

22) Middle school – dad came home in the middle of the night drunk and shattered a mirror

23) 12-year-old birthday – beaten with stick over fighting with a friend

24) Age 12 – school counselor called to tell my parents that I was suicidal – it was brushed under the rug

25) 7th grade – Played softball – never good enough – dad would make me practice extra to try to make me better

26) Middle school – Said my brother did everything better than I did

27) Middle school – expected to take care of my mom’s “nurse”, expected to go to ER with her, showed pics of leg infection to my friends

28) 8th grade - Played volleyball – dad came to 1 game and it wasn’t good enough for him – he went to every one of my brother’s football games

29) 8th grade – Diagnosis of JRA

30)  8th grade – pushed to go for IB program

31) 9th grade – got kicked out for a night for raising my voice at my mom

32) 9th grade – had to drop out of IB program because there was no time to do homework

33) 9th grade – got put on protein bars as substitutions for meals

34) Age 14 – First major depressive episode

35) Age 14 – cops were called because I was suicidal and they showed up at my house

    

Timeline reflection for events 20-35

 

    This section affected how I felt about myself because I was made to feel insignificant and when I was noticed, it was generally in a negative manner. I was taught to hate my body because it didn't meet the standards my parents had set.  I was taught that other children were more important than I was to my parents. My friends mattered more to them than I did. I felt worthless and like I never measured up because I never did. No matter how hard I tried, it was never good enough.     

This also caused my self-esteem to be low. I beat up on myself for messing up just as much as my parents did. I was always afraid of what would happen if I did something wrong, even in places other than home. I was harshly criticized for every little thing and even the slightest slip up meant something bad was going to happen. I lived in constant fear     

This has affected me today by living in fear that something bad is going to happen at every turn and that my littlest mistake is going to lead to major consequences. I'm always afraid of being fired from a job because of any little thing I may or may not have done. I take the littlest thing, especially criticism and obsess over it and how I should have done something different. I constant beat up on myself still and try to always prepare myself for anything that could possibly go wrong or any criticism I could possibly get from someone. I very easily feel defeated over the smallest thing. I feel a lot of dread in my life walking into a situation where there is some unknown piece that I may not expect. I feel like something is going to go wrong in every situation and thus walk into all new situations with dread.

 

36) Age 14 – parents cut off communication with youth pastor and wife because they called the cops

37) 9th grade – first counseling session – parents used it to tear me down – never went back

38) 19th grade – bought my brother a $300 bed but wouldn’t give me lunch money

39) 10th grade – broke bone in my foot and got no medical attention for a month

40) High school – parents argued over who would go to who’s event – favoring my brother

41) Age 15 – first time abuse was reported

42) Age 15 – started self-harming

43) Age 15 – 1st hospitalization – teacher and school counselor cut out of my life after they had been supporting me for ~6 months

44) Age 15 – Parents found out about abuse being reported and flipped out

45) Age 15/16 – DSS got involved temporarily – intention to do family counseling (never happened) and a couple visits by a caseworker

46) Age 15 – decided it was best to finish HS a year early – took summer classes

47) Age 15 – mom made therapy sessions about her

48) Age 16 – went to church leaders for support about self-harming and family life – parents were suspicious

49) High school – mom offered me alcohol

50) Age 17 – left CO for Bob Jones University

51) Age 18 – kicked out of house

52) Age 18 – parents talked to BJU and attacked my character

53) Age 18 – 1st suicide attempt followed by getting kicked out of BJU

    

Timeline reflection for events 36-53

 

This section affected how I felt about myself because it showed me how unimportant I was to my parents which made me feel unimportant as a person. I also felt helpless because no matter what I did my parents would take it away. I had no control over any of my circumstance which made me feel hopeless to the point of suicide. I felt worthless.     

I was taught that reaching out for help was bad and wrong and that there was no point in trying to find support because my parents always ruined it in order to regain control. I felt powerless and alone. Friends rarely stayed around because my parents wanted control.     

This has affected me today because I have a hard time trusting people, especially those in authority roles. I also have a hard time asking for help because every time I did ask for help, it was taken away from me. This also affects me because it has made me question myself and what I believe, both about what happened to me and what I believe spiritually. My parents made me doubt that the abuse was real and twisted it to make it be my fault. The Dean of Women at BJU also made me question myself and about what I went through was actually abuse. I was called a liar which made me wonder. Also, with what happened with BJU, it made me question my religious beliefs and spirituality, what I believed. This is something I still struggle with to this day. I have no confident in really anything: myself, my trauma, other people, my faith, and other things too.

 

In Response to the Comment

So just to give some background, my dad posted a comment on one of my posts and then deleted it. I have attached pictures of the comment. This is my response to that comment. 

 Dear Dad, 

It's nice to hear that you have been paying attention to what I write. Is that because you're paranoid that the truth is coming out about your deplorable treatment of your children? Or maybe you are lonely and miserable and need someone to take it out on. Last I heard, you couldn't keep a partner or friends since Mom died. Me, on the other hand, am supported by many many people, too many to count. I have a great support system, one I've built in spite of you. I've made a good life for myself, without you in it.  

Let's do some fact checks though just for fun. 

1) We can start with the abuse. I hope you realize that by writing the comment itself, it shows you to be an abusive parent. Not only was the way you treated me abusive, you treated me like I was less than a human being. Ever heard of gaslighting? Maybe you should look it up. It's a tactic that is considered emotional abuse and your comment did just that. You incriminate yourself and you left it for the world to see. Just wanted to point that out. I'm a mandated reporter now and if me or any of my coworkers saw even half of what you did to me, we would have to report it BY LAW! In addition to that, every professional clinician I've ever gone to (you know the kind that are licensed, have had to have extensive training in order to deserve and maintain that) has determined that what you did to me was abuse. Some of the best trauma professionals in the country have identified it as abuse, and not just one form of it either (you've covered physical and emotional abuse, existential abuse, and neglect and I'm sure that's not all). One therapist who has been treating trauma for over 20 years even called it psychological torture. So I'm pretty sure that it's not all in my head or that I'm making it up. 

Oh, and the only reason that it was "never proven", that you desperately hold on to, was because you scared me into fear so intense that I only opened up about it once until I hit high school which was when it was reported for the first time. And the only reason it was never proven was because by the time I got brave enough to say something, it was 3 years after the physical abuse ended so there wasn't anything that could be proven. But the emotional abuse was clearly there and SO many people saw it. Even at the first hospital I went to, staff there identified what you were doing as abuse, but when you found that out, you were so insecure that you had to go hunt that person down to try to get them in trouble in some way. But people saw it, trust me they did. My teachers at school knew I had a rough home life without me saying a word, just by identifying my behavior and their interactions with you. Many friends and their parents saw it, just didn't speak up, to you at least. So no, DSS was never able to "prove it" but just because you weren't caught doesn't mean it didn't happen.

2) I know you have missed most of my recent medical care, you know maybe because you weren't there, but my RA diagnosis was proven by different tests and x-rays done. I'm pretty sure you can't fake arthritis in your toes, or your wrist which has been shown in my x-rays. So nope, not making it up. 

3) My mental health obviously doesn't matter to you, or you would have never written that comment. So I'm not going to even bother filling you in. You wouldn't care even if I tried. 

4) Oh, Bob Jones. I love how you say you "shipped" me off. Pretty sure that indicates that you were trying to get rid of me. And while I've already written what happened out in detail in another post which I'm sure you've read, let's review some facts here. First, I didn't get kicked out because of not being able to follow dorm rules. Technically, it wasn't even a disciplinary removal. It is listed on my transcript as "Involuntary Withdrawal" and the reason behind it was my mental health struggles, namely my suicide attempt. Which they have a distorted view of mental health and I'm not the only one who can to attest that. Even people that I've met in other states know of the university and know it's reputation and what they teach. So, no I didn't get kicked out because I couldn't follow dorm rules. I could go into more detail here but I'll just let you read what happened and let that truth sink in.

5) Yes, I did total the car you bought me, but let's insert some facts here. First, it wasn't because I didn't take care of the car. It was because of a car accident. And before you continue, let me just add that you, mom and Paul taught me how to drive. So most of what I learned when it comes to driving, came from what y'all taught me. 

6) Thumper. Now this is an easy one to fact check because a friend also was there when it happened. Thumper started having repeated seizures, so much so that seizure medicine couldn't stop them. He couldn't control his bowels. He cried like I've never heard before. He was suffering. So I did the compassionate thing and put him down. Oh and the vet who evaluated him said it was most likely a brain tumor considering his breed and age and such. Pretty sure I can't cause a brain tumor and that doesn't come from fleas. Also, I've got three pets of my own now who all adore me (all of which I've had for at least a year) and are well taken care of. One of them I've had since she was 4 weeks old. Oh, and I foster kittens for a local rescue. Pretty sure none of that would be possible if I was a horrible pet owner. Just saying. 

7) Just for the record, I have ALWAYS blamed both of you for the abuse, because you were both guilty. 

8) I'm not going to deny and say that I've not gained weight but there is a reason behind it. I have an eating disorder and no, it's not binge eating disorder like you and mom made up when you tried to get custody of me. And my therapists and I identified that the cause of it was the abuse that you put me through. It's intricately intertwined with my trauma. Pretty sure y'all were the ones who taught me my eating habits. Again just saying. Also, my hygiene is fine. I could go into details but I won't because you don't need to or deserve to know it. 

9) Ah, the facilities. If only you knew the real story. But I will say, I haven't burned any bridges. All the treatment facilities I've been to will accept me if I ever need them again. Including one of the top trauma programs in the country. 

10) Last but not least, I've gone and got help. Help I needed only because of the damage you did. I'm stable now. But yet look at the one who is throwing darts. Maybe YOU should get help. Ever considered that?

I can assure you dad, that I will never be like you and I never want to be. I want to be a person who actually cares about others and their feelings. Who cares about children and their feelings. In case you forgot, I'm in graduate school now working on my Master's in Social Work. I plan on using it to help other people who are in need, who are recovering abuse victims who just need someone to hear them out, give them a chance. Things I didn't get right away. But unlike you, I'm caring. I'm empathetic. I'm helpful. I'm compassionate. Qualities you don't possess nor did you teach me. 

I can confidently assure you that your genes will not be passed on. The cycle ends here. Bridges have been burned. Permanently. I hope I never hear from you again. 

Poems from Treatment #1

 I want to scream
I want to cry
But I'm afraid if I do
I will surely die

No one sees it

It's always hidden

Because I've been taught

That it's extremely forbidden

I can't release

It's trapped inside

I feel alone

In every stride

It's scary

It's bad

It'll mean

I'm just like my dad

Letting out 

All my fears

Will lead to nothing

Not even tears

Nothing will come

It's too deep

I can't fall apart

I can't even weep

I want only

To let it out

But inside

There is so much doubt

Maybe one day

I'll face my fears

I'm letting everything out

Of freeing my tears

I want to express

I want to let go

My scream inside

That I need to show

One day soon

Maybe I can

Let everything out

From which I have ran

I want to scream

I want to cry

Maybe some day

I'll be able to try

The Moment I Realized I Was Being Abused

 The abuse started when I was six years old. When it started, I had no idea that it was wrong. I thought it as if it were normal, that every parent treated their kids that way. Even after an incident that ended with my dad screaming at one of my friends and I and my mom apologizing for his behavior, I still didn't think anything was wrong or out of the ordinary. 

Then everything changed.

It was a day in my 4th grade class. They rolled in the TV on a cart and we all got excited because that meant we were going to be able to watch a movie in class. I had no idea what was coming next. The video started and it was a video on the different types of abuse. It went through all types: physical, emotional, sexual and neglect. As I watched the video, a realization came to me. I was being abused and I had no idea that what was happening at home was, literally on the screen in front of me. Things started making sense and I started thinking about everything I was living with at home and it scared me. 

At the end of the video, we were given blank sheets of paper and asked to answer three questions. I don't remember the first two questions but the third question was whether or not we wanted to talk to someone about what we had seen in the video. I remember being surrounded by my classmates, all who were telling me to answer yes to that question. I was conflicted and scared of what putting yes on that paper would do, knowing of the potential removal from my home into foster care. Eventually, I decided on putting yes on the paper. 

A few days later, as the abuse continued to happen, there was one incident with my brother that scared me enough to reach out to my teacher and tell her that I wanted to talk to her about what had been put on that sheet. She asked me if I had answered yes to the third question and I said yes. So she arranged a meeting with me, her (my teacher), and the school counselor. 

When I met with them, they asked me what was going on and I tried to tell them everything I could in the best way that a 4th grader could explain it. They asked me questions about it and took notes. As the meeting came to an end, they told me that if it happens again to tell them. This indicated to me that what I had done had been for nothing. They weren't taking me seriously. There was no point in telling anyone because they would do nothing. 

From there, I refused to trust adults in my life with what was going on in my house. I didn't tell any adults about my home life and didn't let people in. It wasn't until I reached high school that I started talking about the abuse in my home and only because I was old enough to now understand the ramifications of what was going on in my house. I didn't talk to a school counselor until I was a sophomore in high school and that was the first time in my life that the abuse was reported. That was when I found out that the adults from my elementary school had failed me. They left me in an abusive home for years. I was left to suffer and even after it was reported they couldn't do anything about it because the physical abuse had stopped and all that was left was emotional abuse and they can't prove that so they can't remove a child from a home *just* for emotional abuse. 

The system failed me. My teachers failed me. School counselors failed me. I was failed.