I am 26. I have tried to commit suicide three times this year. In all, I have tried over 15-20 times. The first time I remember my dad touching me I was three. My mom thinks it started when I was a baby. The first time I remember being raped, I was five or six. When I was seven, my mom said I didn't have to see him anymore. She didn't turn him in. She didn't talk about it. When we talk about it now, I have to console her. She abused me emotionally and physically until I was 23 and moved away. To have a relationship with her now, I have to pretend nothing happened. She doesn't remember most of it anyway. My suicidal thoughts started when I was seven. I used to save all my allowance money to run away and die on a beach. When I was nine, my mom found my money. I had saved $400. When I was nine and ten, my stepfather would masturbate infront of me. My mom didn't do anything about it until a girl from the neighborhood turned him in for molesting her. He went to rehab. They're still married. When I was thirteen, a guy I knew raped me. Everytime I got away, he would catch me and carry me right back to his basement. He said my parents wouldn't care if he chained me up in his basement. Finally, I just gave in. When I tried to tell people, they called me a liar. My parents called me a slut and tried to kick me out of the house. When I was 19, a friend I had known for five years roofied me and had sex with me. A week later, someone else I knew, my manager actually, told me he was going to have sex with me, then held me down. I didn't have enough energy left to fight. I was engaged at the time. I tried to tell my fiancee what happened. He left me. I still miss him. I had two good jobs at the time, one of them being prestigious for a 19 year old. I was in school full time. I quit my jobs, and quit school. My mom punched me and told me to get out. I didn't have any money. I became a stripper. I moved away from my home city when I was 23. I got an abusive boyfriend. I stayed with him anyway because I didn't want to move home. I prostituted myself twice because I needed money for medication. (I have Interstitial Cystitis and Endometriosis. Stripping has helped pay for surgeries. I am still in pain everyday.) Last year, my boyfriend raped me after telling him I was leaving. I was crying the whole time. As soon as he passed out drunk, I tried to kill myself. Our roommate found me. My boyfriend picked me up from hospital and yelled at me for two hours before going to work. He called me 'slut,' and 'whore.' I felt like a whore. There was nowhere for me to go. I didn't have any friends in the city I was living in. As soon as he left for work, I started again. I was not sober. He found me later because I had made a mess, and he noticed his gun missing. I was in hospital for a week. My boyfriend and our roommate packed my things and threw them out. I was able to leave him now, but I had to go home to my family. That was November. My boyfriend would still call to yell at me, or send me e-mails. He had given me a STD before I left. He said he knew I was going to try to kill myself, but he was 'ready for me to go.' When I came home, my best friend tried to have sex with me. He stopped talking to me after I told him I couldn't. He told me it didn't matter anyway as I was just a 'Slut, with nothing to bring to the table.' I've known him for 15 years. I moved in with another friend, not wanting to live with my mother and stepfather. The same thing happened. He asked me to leave when I told him nothing sexual would happen. I had known him for eight years. I had to move in with someone I met off the Internet. He's nice to let me stay, I can't afford rent. I can't work anymore. I can't face taking my clothes off for anyone else. I can't hold a normal job because I'm too sick all the time to show up. I tried to kill myself again on Valentine's Day. I had started school again, then got too sick to go. I started thinking all I really was to people was something to have sex with. I can't even get pregnant. I felt biologically useless. Even when I do want to have sex, I feel guilty afterwards. I throw up. I cry. My new roommate found me after a day and a half of not hearing from me. He was good about it, as he was with supporting me. I started dating him. We talked about marriage and adopting. We bought a house. He was nicer than anyone had ever been to me. I was happy for the first, and only time, ever. But then, he got mad at me because he said he couldn't afford me. He told me to go back to stripping. I tried to leave. Not wanting to land in the same situation I was in with my other boyfriend. I turned to my brother for help. My brother told me I could move in with him. I decided to stay at his place for the night. He started telling me how attractive I am. He said I was perfect for a wife. He said he wanted to get blood-tests to make sure we were really siblings. He tried to cuddle up with me. He wanted to have sex, even though he said he knew it was wrong. I almost let it happen. It's all anyone seems to want anyway. Finally, after 45 minutes, I left. I felt like it was my fault... Because, I hadn't worn a bra. I tried to talk to my therapist. He said it was normal sibling behavior. I said, 'Not when our dad raped me and my brother knows about it.' He said, 'You were molested?' He hadn't even been paying attention. I went through everything again. 'I was molested. I was raped. I've been a prostitute. I'm sick all the time, and in pain. None of my medical doctors want to help me. I have collectors calling me all the time for medical debt. I can't afford to eat.' He said, 'Well, if I were you, then, I'd just move in with my parents and watch television all day.' I fired him. I went back to my boyfriend because I didn't know where else to go. And, because I had been happy with him for a time. For the past couple months, I just have sex with him because I know that's what he wants. He leaves me alone to smoke cigarettes and drink coffee in my office, so long as he's satisfied. If not, he just brings up all the things I don't, or can't, do. For the past couple weeks, I haven't been able to do anything with him. It hurts too much, emotionally, and physically. Yesterday, he asked me for bill money. I started crying. Even when I'm not selling my body, I am. The thing is, I'm starting to feel the same way I did in November. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe without someone trying to touch me. I don't want to be touched anymore. I don't even want a hug. Everyday, I think about shaving my head, just so that I'm not pretty anymore. Just so that people won't want to have sex with me anymore. I don't wear makeup. I dress in baggy clothes. I still have people bother me at the grocery store. The whole right side of my body hurts everyday. My doctors act like it's no big deal. Everyone tells me to find new ones. But, there's only so many new doctors I can go to year after year. I'm supposed to have a hysterectomy. Not that I can afford another surgery. Plus, it won't cure the Interstitial Cystitis. It hurts to go to the bathroom. This, I'm told, will never go away. It amazes me, that people who know about all of this, still try to have sex with me. Even if all of the molesting and rape wouldn't have happened- It would still hurt. I just don't get it. I've been thinking about going back to work. I don't know what else to do. I think about running away again, going to another city. But, that's been proven to end badly. My boyfriend is nice. He's not a jerk. I just don't think I can be anyone's girlfriend. Not after all this. All he wants is for me to be nice, and have sex with him from time to time. I just don't know that I can do that. Sometimes I think I could play house for years, and be good at it. On days like today- I just want a studio apartment with no one to bother me. Only, I can't afford that without going to work. And, I can't work with people saying gross things to me all the time. Things like, 'You'd be better off if someone just fucked you right.' What does that mean anyway? My hands are shaky like they were before. I just keep thinking about how impossible it all is. How it's impossible for things to not be about sex when everything is. Food, advertising, all of it. I don't want to fill any of my scripts for anxiety, because suicide for me is such a compulsive thing. I can't talk to my boyfriend. I bring it up and he says it hurts his feelings to know I'm depressed. I don't have friends anymore because I've cut them off one by one for trying to have sex with me. I've fired countless therapists for telling me stripping is okay, and the last therapist for not even remembering what problems I have. I can't go to psychiatrists because they give me too many pills, and I can't have those laying around. I only talk to my mother and my aunt from my family. My aunt's daughter just got molested. I can't deal with it, and my aunt can't deal with me. And, my mom? If she's not crying about all the things I've had go wrong, she says, "You have everything stacked against you. Atleast you're pretty." Thanks, mom. Will this ever go away? What do I do now? How can I just live a quiet life without people trying to have sex with me all the time, when I can't even hold a normal job?