That sounds very familiar.

I don't know what made me break away. I think it was the state getting involved through the actions of a friend's parent. My mother would regularly kick me out of the house, ever since I was 7 years old--one time I was in nothing but an oversized tshirt and this was in the dead middle of a South Dakota winter. One time she chased me out of the house with a knife and I finally decided that was enough--I begged quarters (this was back in the days of pay phones) off of strangers and called my friends until someone came to pick me up. I stayed with a friend, borrowing her clothes, for a week until my mother demanded I come home or she would turn me in as a runaway. I refused. The cops came, and I told them some things that made them decide not to take me home (basically made threats against myself). Yes, I did manipulate them, but I was NOT going home. I was taken to an...idk...halfway house? Detention center? I awaited a court hearing and eventually did get sent home but the difference was that the state was now involved and visiting weekly, plus we were ordered to go to weekly counseling, together and separately. All of this (and a LOT more) is what eventually led to my being put in foster care. Point is that I had to put my foot down; I was just freaking done. I think in high school I had some sort of foresight about what my life would look like if I continued in the same environment, and it wasn't good. I'm not saying my life was rainbows and kittens otherwise, but I definitely had more choices and room to heal. And now things are pretty good.

I definitely wish the best for you.