Help Teddy Escape An Abusive Household

(This fundraiser has been set up by Alexia to help their friend Teddy. My name and data are not related to Teddy in any way; it is a safety measure. I ask that you please understand the need for secrecy, and please support my friend. Thank you so much.)

My name is Teddy. I chose this name because of the comfort the stuffed toy bears have brought me, and, because unlike my birth name, it has never been spoken unkindly.

I have spent my life up until now making it to new years by a hair. Trying to put to words what I have survived, I start to feel like I am having a nightmare. When the memories are not overtaking all my present senses, the details of them are just as hard to piece together. I wish it were really a nightmare.

I am not yet a survivor, because it is still uncertain whether or not I will survive this. I want to be a survivor.

To word it easiest, though, I am a not-yet-survivor of emotional and physical abuse for longer than I can remember, financial abuse ever since I started having any money to be taken, and multiple periods of sexual abuse that continued for years by people outside of my family.

I want to be a survivor. I want to go into a chapter of my life where I am safe, where there is no one to make me afraid, where there are more things to live for besides dreaming about really living.

I have tried making my family less angry with me. I try to be good, patient, quiet, understanding, anticipate what my family will need and jump to meet it, take it all with grace. But there is always something that I manage to get wrong. When I was little, I thought that it was because of my getting things wrong that it hurts so much all the time.

I thought that if I could just be good enough, then my family would love me, and not hurt me anymore. There's a little part of me who still wants to believe that her family, the only people she has in the whole world, are safe to be around; who needs to cling to this fantasy. I don't let her make the decisions anymore, as much as it aches.

I have tried to communicate the ways in which it hurts me, and why to please stop. I learned very quickly that communicating your pain only stops someone who does not intend to cause any. I reached out to teachers whose hands were tied except to bring in authorities. When they did come by, the house was always clean, and my family was so nice on those days that I wished there could be someone keeping watch all the time.

In the past, I spent every night I could at friends' houses. I'm eternally grateful to all these friends and their families. I slept so well, nobody shouted or threatened me, nobody put me down. Some of them gave me spare clothes, fed me, helped me when I got injured. Those families are why I can still believe there are good people in the world, because they were there.

I still wish that I could have really been a part of those families, and not just for the short while I'd be there. I'm grateful, though, that that kindness was granted to me for even a short while.

I have tried running away from home twice. I have tried six times to end my own life, the first time being when I was thirteen years old and just as desperate as now to be anywhere else, with even less I could do besides just endure it.

There is too much fear and hurt to ever be able to describe it all, even if I could find enough courage to speak about it. Some two years of being locked away blur together into one continuous dark room. Hunger pains, falling asleep standing up at school, hurting too badly to sit down on my bike seat, trying to figure out how to behave so that people outside my home don't notice anything. Having to watch pets brought into the home only to be neglected. Having to watch the pets suffer, get sick from the lack of care and the stress, die, and be replaced like toys, without being able to do nearly enough to help them.

Having to go to the internet to learn how to handle bruises, how to stop bleeding, how to bandage yourself properly, what to do if you don't have bandages... I never thought I'd even make it to adulthood. Powerlessness, hopelessness and desperation have been the constant color of every year. It all feels less like a life I can look back upon, and more like one continuous time of hurting that I can't think about for too long, or it will make me unable to handle the present.

I cannot even go into any better detail - there is so much more I could say, to try and convey exactly how unbearable this all is. But I cannot even talk about it, because I don't want to risk more hurt while I am asking for help getting away from here. Please understand that I would share more, be less vague, show my face and all if I could.

I've made plans to go elsewhere, to anyone anywhere that would help me, and even to people I knew would hurt me, just because they'd still hurt me less than being here does... And these plans have fallen through over five times. It's terrifying how someone will hear a plea for help and see an opportunity to do whatever they want. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand why. I don't know if I want to.

Years of barely enduring have worn down my health in more ways than one. I am isolated, not allowed to go out. I have been cut off from therapy and from doctors. No normal work, no education. No walks to the park or the corner store, no time with friends. Complete isolation. Even before the pandemic started, I've been living a life that starts and ends inside this house.

This computer is the only reason I am not truly, totally, 100% cut off from the world. I am so lucky to have internet, and I am so lucky to have skills others will pay for, it's a blessing that this resource is here to make up for not being able to go out and get a regular job. Without this computer I'd have no way at all of making my own money.

Despite all this I am doing everything, anything I can to try and get away from here, so that I can say that I survived this and go on with whatever a safe life would be like.

I can't try to make this any kind of legal fight against my family. I know that it must sound ridiculous, after everything I've shared, but it would only break my heart more. I don't ever want to cause anyone else pain. I just want to get away from here, without trying to bring justice, because there is still that little girl in me who can't bear to even think about making my family upset, let alone make them face punishment for their actions, through my words or choices.

I just want to live my own life away from my family, and I would be glad just to be able to do that. I would be grateful to live just one good day away from here, knowing I don't have to go back. That would be enough to make every single year worth the struggles and the pain.

Now that I am an adult, there are doors that could open for me which were locked before. But it's like they're jammed or something, and I am still here. Each day, I try to make a path forwards and out of this place, and by the next, my progress is undone.

Taking care of household chores, navigating each day to try not to set off violent rage or punishments. Trying to make enough money, without a normal job, to pay the rent - and then having my family take more money when they decide, for whatever reasons they decide. Anticipating what will come next as best I can, caring for the animals and trying to at least ease their pain if not my own, managing my struggles in body and mind as best I can, even though the constant unpredictableness exacerbates each one.

I have been pushing myself to physical injury and sleep deprivation just to try and make enough to save on top of that, trying to prepare for the surprise costs too, and I'm still failing.

I can't do this on my own, as much as I wish that I could. I know everyone is struggling with their own problems, and I don't want to add another one to anyone's plate. The last thing I ever wanted to be was a burden, to my family or to anyone. It's terrifying, so much that I have put this off for as long as I possibly could, because my reaching for help has ended badly too many times and I wonder if I am even worth it, as awful a thought as that is.

But when I think about the warmth and the kindness of those people who helped me when I was little, it feels like less of a wild leap. I want to believe that the world can be a good place, with kind people, and that I can be a part of it, no matter what has been done to me, no matter how hard it is right now. I want to be a good part of the world, too. I want to survive, and be part of the world, really part of it, not just trapped away from everything warm and kind.

I ask that you please help me to get over the threshold that I can't by my own strength.

I've asked one of my closest and most trusted friends to set this up for me, and help me to receive help without placing myself in a very dangerous and risky position by attaching my legal name or my face to publicly talking about what is happening to me. Please understand that I'd add pictures and more details if I could without risking my safety. I understand if anyone has a hard time placing trust in picture-less proof-less requests for help on the internet, but I can't make this more dangerous to myself. I just can't.

The goal that has been set is for:

If I could just get past this first door, I could live so much more of a life. I could do so much more. I know I'd be able to do so much more if so much of my time and energy wasn't devoted to just enduring and surviving this constant threat. It's just the first hurdle that feels so impossible to me alone now.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and for even considering to help me. I'm thankful for every kind word, for the support of my friends, for well-wishing and prayers, every cent, every share, everything. It means the world to me.

I hope you're safe and well. I hope that everyone turns out okay in the end, even if I don't.

Please take care.

Thank you.