Thank you for your guidance... I'll admit, I didn't read the guidelines and I was wondering about the "Trigger" thing. The only type of forum I've ever participated in was for pregnant women & we did that there too. I'll be sure to label any posts with sensitive subject matter in the future. And my apologies on the cuss word - I was very careful to edit Myself throughout the post to avoid that but I am obsessive about event recall dialogue (probably because I've been gaslighted so much over the years) and it seemed critical to be accurate while still maintaining a level of respect... in the future I will continue to only use cuss words under those circumstances (as I did here- I don't think I can Not do that just yet) but I will edit to your specifications (all symbols - leave out the letters).
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General Discussion / Re: This is my story - there are many like it but this one is mine.. TRIGGER WARNING
June 22, 2018, 06:20:17 PM #2
General Discussion / This is my story - there are many like it but this one is mine.. TRIGGER WARNING
June 21, 2018, 06:38:26 PM
So, I've already posted this on the OOTF forum but someone there suggested I come here... I'm not exactly sure where I belong though - my onset of symptoms occurred in adulthood but my trauma extends all the way back... here's my story it is long & I extend my sincere appreciation to anyone who reads it all the way through and I am thankful for any input you may have...
I was born. Shortly thereafter my parents divorced, I have no memories of my biological father... I do not know what he looks like, the sound of his voice, or the way it feels to have him hug me. He is merely a name and an old photo. No one talks about him - it's as if he never existed... except that he did because if he doesn't exist neither do I. There is one memory - not of him directly mind you - it was my birthday, I don't recall which one, I was still very young. My mom gave me a present he had gotten for me - no visit, no phone call, no letter or card just a cheap plastic Cupie doll... like something you'd buy at the dollar store. As I am going through this process of healing I have realized I based my self-worth on that dollar store cupie doll - that was all I was worth to my own father so why would any other man value me any more than that? Poor little plastic, naked, cupie doll.
I AM NO LONGER A CUPIE DOLL.
My mother taught me about life... the way she learned it and the way she lived it. She taught me that sacrifice was more important than asking for help, she taught me I needed a man to rescue me, she taught me to bottle it up - to sweep it under the rug, she taught me denial, she taught me that her new husband was more important than her own children, she taught me manipulation, she taught me guilt. She is still teaching me even now - she just recently taught me that my children, her grandchildren, are more important than I am. She's teaching me that her love and help must be earned, not given freely. She has taught me that verbal and emotional abuse is what we should expect - that toxicity is normality.
My new "dad" taught me a great many things too, but the biggest thing he taught me was how to be a small target. I learned that when things got physical with him and my brother it was best to just disappear - you can't get hurt if they don't know you're there. He taught me to be invisible. He taught me that being alone was safer than the alternative and that hiding in books was my only refuge.
Then one day, my brother left home. "I wish I could take you with me" he said as he was packing his things into his car - but he was just a boy himself - barely 18. He didn't know how to be responsible for himself (they did not each us that) let only trying to take care of his little sister too. Before that - my dad had never been physical with me, only with my brother... but now that safety net was gone. I no longer had a buffer. I swore to myself that the first time he laid his hands on me would be the last... and it was.
I left home a month before my 17th birthday to escape the abuse. I was still a child - fragile, naive, and alone in the big bad world. I lived with a friend and her dad for awhile, then my brother and I got an apartment. I learned to navigate an adult world even though I really was not a part of it - I couldn't have my name on the lease or any of the bills but I could pay those bills. I wasn't even old enough to buy my own cigarettes. If it weren't for my brother I don't think I would have made it.
At the age of 18 I became a stripper (daddy issues - go figure). I learned that I had power over men - that I could manipulate and abuse them and they would pay me for it. I based my self worth off of the opinions and affections of strange men. I dressed that cupie doll up in fancy clothes, 6-inch heels and a thong but she was still a dollar store cupie doll who just wanted to know what love was.
I had a few flings and short lived, tumultuous relationships before I found a nice guy. We dated for a few years and during that time I started to heal... to find out who I wanted to be. (Looking back - he was the most stable person I've ever had in my life.) I was on a good path, I had learned to take care of myself (with only a little help) and I had found my strength.
And then my brother went to prison... for murder. I was already a fragile person - this broke me. My brother had been my protector, my rescuer, my provider, my best friend. We had weathered many storms together and come out stronger but while I was stable for once, he had gone out to wander the world & got lost. He made bad friends, he made bad choices, and he did bad things and his incarceration sent me into a tailspin.
I self destructed - I broke up with the nice guy... I had found something more exciting than stability. I found a cute boy with tons of (what I perceived as) passion. We had a lot of fun together – parties, drugs, raves, more drugs.
I didn't realize it until much later (like, a few months ago when I found an old journal) but the cycle of abuse started about 6 months into the relationship (maybe even sooner but that's when it first showed up in the journals) and escalated after we were married. I remember the first time he threatened to kill himself in front of me – he had his shotgun in his mouth, I was so afraid...I truly believed if I left him he would do it. He did this a few times before he slipped up and revealed his true self... the next day when he was sober & I tried to talk about it he said "Oh, I didn't really mean it – the gun wasn't even loaded – I was just &^%$# with you". The next time it didn't work – he didn't get the reaction he wanted because he had taken away it's power by revealing the truth – so he changed tactics. He figured out he could use my abandonment issues against me. Anytime things got rough, or I was thinking about leaving him, he would threaten to leave me first. This was a major trigger and my reaction was to beg him to stay... each and every time, for years upon years upon years, I would be so close to being done with him and he would play that card... and every time no matter how done I had been moments before I would beg for him to stay.
We didn't have the internet back then like we do now – there were no articles in my face about red flags, I had no idea what a manipulative narcissistic even was at the time. I thought if I loved him enough it would be okay. I had been taught to honor the commitment of marriage even to the detriment of yourself. I had been taught that hard work could fix anything. I was blinded by who I wanted him to be instead of who he actually was... and so I stayed.
As the years went on, the trap tightened. We moved to a desolate area – literally the middle of nowhere, in the woods. I left my job - "you wont have to work! I'll be making enough that you can just stay home and take care of the house and the yard and plant a garden". It sounded really good – but antifreeze tastes sweet too. It was there in the woods I that it first dawned on me that he had been manipulating me the entire time. It was then that I first saw through it. I almost left – god I wish I had left that night... I didn't stay for him that time. I did it for my parents – they had bought the house in the woods for us and if I left I was going to cause them all sorts of financial woes (little did I know at the time, that ended up happening anyway – my continued suffering based on their needs was a wasted effort).
Then, for a time, things got better. We decided to have kids. For the most part he was very attentive when I was pregnant... except that one time he got mad & threatened to burn the house down around me & the baby. Our son was born, life got busy, there wasn't much time for big fights for awhile. I don't really remember when things got worse but we were to a point of "done" again we found out we were pregnant the second time. I remember telling my friend "well, maybe it'll get better now. He was so super sweet to me the last time I was pregnant, maybe it'll be like that again.".
Shortly after the birth of our second child we lost the house in the middle of nowhere and moved into his dad's house. His dad is significantly worse than he is, things went from bad to worse quickly. This arrangement lasted about a year before I got to my breaking point – we moved into a trailer park, his mom moved with us. We were okay for a minute... and then the cycle rolled around again. I was really done that time but he used his power over me to convince me to try one more time. "I don't really mean these things I say – I'm just venting". The truth became fuzzy – so you don't mean it when you say you're gong to leave but I'm supposed to believe you now when you say you don't mean it... and I am just supposed to know which statements are true and which are not?
When we decided to give it one more try, my friends told me "go back to the beginning, do whatever it was that made you fall in love the first time". Yeah, so that was sex... we did a lot of sex. We got pregnant again... we moved out of the trailer park... I had a miscarriage. I spent the entire day alone at the emergency room – he didn't even leave work to be with me. When he got home that day he said NOTHING... he gave me a hug and that was the end of it. I was left to deal with that trauma entirely on my own. Once again, I was broken... not that I'd ever actually been repaired or anything, just more broken. For a time, I stopped fighting it. I resigned myself to the fact that this was my life, it was the way it was going to be and I couldn't do anything to change it.
The we got pregnant again, we bought a house, our daughter was born. My body did not do well with that last pregnancy and I was officially diagnosed with endometriosis when the doctor did my tubal. I began having persistent stomach problems and lack of appetite. I went from 160lbs to 120lbs in a few months. I didn't know it at the time, but this was my body reacting to the long term stress and abuse.
Then there is that moment where everything changes. I had been distant from my brother for many years – I did not deal well with his incarceration so I went back to what my mom had taught me when I was young – denial, bottle it up, pretend it just doesn't exist. I took my oldest son to see the new Star Wars movie – it was his first movie in a theater. It was a milestone and it broke my heart that my big brother was not there for it. I broke through my issues and wrote him a letter that began a dialogue that is now a healthy, working relationship. He utilized his time in prison effectively – he went to groups, he learned multiple trades, he kept out of trouble. He has so many tools in his tool box he could open a hardware store.
When I reconnected with my brother I woke myself up... and not just to the pain of losing him for so many years. Once my eyes were open they were open to all of it... I could no longer blind myself. I could no longer accept that this was the way it was supposed to be.
In preparation for the end of my marriage I enrolled in beauty school. They said 14months, it took 18. It was the most excruciating 18 months of my life. I wouldn't even admit to myself what I was doing – I kept saying "It's just in case" & "It's to help our family" but deep down I knew it was about survival after the fact... and he knew something had changed. When we fought and he threatened to leave I no longer begged him to stay – I told him to GO! I used my stomach problems as an excuse to not have sex anymore than I had to. I spent as little time with him as I could.
This past January – after many doctor visits, after seeing specialist after specialist I was diagnosed with anxiety. (Anxiety is still just a symptom though – a symptom of Complex PTSD) and we reset the cycle one last time. We communicated effectively for a little while – we cried together, we said we'd make it better. As my graduation from school approached, the cycle devolved. It wasn't even three months before we were back to that point again. I had a full on panic attack in expectation of his reaction to an event and he did not react at all. The next morning I told him I didn't want to be married to someone I was afraid of... he said he'd leave.
Then he changed his mind... he said he couldn't go. "If you're the one that wants to end this so bad then you should go"... so I did. He didn't really think I would, I know he was bluffing... but now I'm free... mostly. I had to leave my babies behind... I had no choice. They are safe for now – his current game is "I can do it better than you"... to prove he can be a better parent than I ever was. Realistically (I repeat this to myself every day) it is better this way – he is financially stable, he can afford the house, he can afford to feed & cloth them, and he keeps his own mother too... 3 months out & I still don't even have a job (realizing the CPTSD is a huge factor in this – which is in part why I came to this forum).
So that brings us to now – I graduated from beauty school & left him within days. I am living in an extended stay hotel, I haven't had a job in over a decade, my cousin (who also recently left an abusive relationship) has been "funding my escape", after 19 years and tons of work towards rehabilitation my brother is now out of prison, I have one friend who might as well be a counselor himself, I go to a therapist that doesn't really help me much, I have been criticized for my decision to leave the kids with him – especially by those closest to me (MOM) and told I am doing it all wrong, I am struggling to keep myself afloat but
I AM NOT GOING BACK!!!
It took so much out of me to escape, and I am working hard to rebuild myself... so that I can not only be a better person moving forward but so I can help my children rebuild themselves when they are free too... I cannot rescue them yet but I will.
So yeah, thats my story - the condensed version anyway. It felt good to run the whole thing... if you made it this far, thanks for reading - you really are a Hero lol.
I was born. Shortly thereafter my parents divorced, I have no memories of my biological father... I do not know what he looks like, the sound of his voice, or the way it feels to have him hug me. He is merely a name and an old photo. No one talks about him - it's as if he never existed... except that he did because if he doesn't exist neither do I. There is one memory - not of him directly mind you - it was my birthday, I don't recall which one, I was still very young. My mom gave me a present he had gotten for me - no visit, no phone call, no letter or card just a cheap plastic Cupie doll... like something you'd buy at the dollar store. As I am going through this process of healing I have realized I based my self-worth on that dollar store cupie doll - that was all I was worth to my own father so why would any other man value me any more than that? Poor little plastic, naked, cupie doll.
I AM NO LONGER A CUPIE DOLL.
My mother taught me about life... the way she learned it and the way she lived it. She taught me that sacrifice was more important than asking for help, she taught me I needed a man to rescue me, she taught me to bottle it up - to sweep it under the rug, she taught me denial, she taught me that her new husband was more important than her own children, she taught me manipulation, she taught me guilt. She is still teaching me even now - she just recently taught me that my children, her grandchildren, are more important than I am. She's teaching me that her love and help must be earned, not given freely. She has taught me that verbal and emotional abuse is what we should expect - that toxicity is normality.
My new "dad" taught me a great many things too, but the biggest thing he taught me was how to be a small target. I learned that when things got physical with him and my brother it was best to just disappear - you can't get hurt if they don't know you're there. He taught me to be invisible. He taught me that being alone was safer than the alternative and that hiding in books was my only refuge.
Then one day, my brother left home. "I wish I could take you with me" he said as he was packing his things into his car - but he was just a boy himself - barely 18. He didn't know how to be responsible for himself (they did not each us that) let only trying to take care of his little sister too. Before that - my dad had never been physical with me, only with my brother... but now that safety net was gone. I no longer had a buffer. I swore to myself that the first time he laid his hands on me would be the last... and it was.
I left home a month before my 17th birthday to escape the abuse. I was still a child - fragile, naive, and alone in the big bad world. I lived with a friend and her dad for awhile, then my brother and I got an apartment. I learned to navigate an adult world even though I really was not a part of it - I couldn't have my name on the lease or any of the bills but I could pay those bills. I wasn't even old enough to buy my own cigarettes. If it weren't for my brother I don't think I would have made it.
At the age of 18 I became a stripper (daddy issues - go figure). I learned that I had power over men - that I could manipulate and abuse them and they would pay me for it. I based my self worth off of the opinions and affections of strange men. I dressed that cupie doll up in fancy clothes, 6-inch heels and a thong but she was still a dollar store cupie doll who just wanted to know what love was.
I had a few flings and short lived, tumultuous relationships before I found a nice guy. We dated for a few years and during that time I started to heal... to find out who I wanted to be. (Looking back - he was the most stable person I've ever had in my life.) I was on a good path, I had learned to take care of myself (with only a little help) and I had found my strength.
And then my brother went to prison... for murder. I was already a fragile person - this broke me. My brother had been my protector, my rescuer, my provider, my best friend. We had weathered many storms together and come out stronger but while I was stable for once, he had gone out to wander the world & got lost. He made bad friends, he made bad choices, and he did bad things and his incarceration sent me into a tailspin.
I self destructed - I broke up with the nice guy... I had found something more exciting than stability. I found a cute boy with tons of (what I perceived as) passion. We had a lot of fun together – parties, drugs, raves, more drugs.
I didn't realize it until much later (like, a few months ago when I found an old journal) but the cycle of abuse started about 6 months into the relationship (maybe even sooner but that's when it first showed up in the journals) and escalated after we were married. I remember the first time he threatened to kill himself in front of me – he had his shotgun in his mouth, I was so afraid...I truly believed if I left him he would do it. He did this a few times before he slipped up and revealed his true self... the next day when he was sober & I tried to talk about it he said "Oh, I didn't really mean it – the gun wasn't even loaded – I was just &^%$# with you". The next time it didn't work – he didn't get the reaction he wanted because he had taken away it's power by revealing the truth – so he changed tactics. He figured out he could use my abandonment issues against me. Anytime things got rough, or I was thinking about leaving him, he would threaten to leave me first. This was a major trigger and my reaction was to beg him to stay... each and every time, for years upon years upon years, I would be so close to being done with him and he would play that card... and every time no matter how done I had been moments before I would beg for him to stay.
We didn't have the internet back then like we do now – there were no articles in my face about red flags, I had no idea what a manipulative narcissistic even was at the time. I thought if I loved him enough it would be okay. I had been taught to honor the commitment of marriage even to the detriment of yourself. I had been taught that hard work could fix anything. I was blinded by who I wanted him to be instead of who he actually was... and so I stayed.
As the years went on, the trap tightened. We moved to a desolate area – literally the middle of nowhere, in the woods. I left my job - "you wont have to work! I'll be making enough that you can just stay home and take care of the house and the yard and plant a garden". It sounded really good – but antifreeze tastes sweet too. It was there in the woods I that it first dawned on me that he had been manipulating me the entire time. It was then that I first saw through it. I almost left – god I wish I had left that night... I didn't stay for him that time. I did it for my parents – they had bought the house in the woods for us and if I left I was going to cause them all sorts of financial woes (little did I know at the time, that ended up happening anyway – my continued suffering based on their needs was a wasted effort).
Then, for a time, things got better. We decided to have kids. For the most part he was very attentive when I was pregnant... except that one time he got mad & threatened to burn the house down around me & the baby. Our son was born, life got busy, there wasn't much time for big fights for awhile. I don't really remember when things got worse but we were to a point of "done" again we found out we were pregnant the second time. I remember telling my friend "well, maybe it'll get better now. He was so super sweet to me the last time I was pregnant, maybe it'll be like that again.".
Shortly after the birth of our second child we lost the house in the middle of nowhere and moved into his dad's house. His dad is significantly worse than he is, things went from bad to worse quickly. This arrangement lasted about a year before I got to my breaking point – we moved into a trailer park, his mom moved with us. We were okay for a minute... and then the cycle rolled around again. I was really done that time but he used his power over me to convince me to try one more time. "I don't really mean these things I say – I'm just venting". The truth became fuzzy – so you don't mean it when you say you're gong to leave but I'm supposed to believe you now when you say you don't mean it... and I am just supposed to know which statements are true and which are not?
When we decided to give it one more try, my friends told me "go back to the beginning, do whatever it was that made you fall in love the first time". Yeah, so that was sex... we did a lot of sex. We got pregnant again... we moved out of the trailer park... I had a miscarriage. I spent the entire day alone at the emergency room – he didn't even leave work to be with me. When he got home that day he said NOTHING... he gave me a hug and that was the end of it. I was left to deal with that trauma entirely on my own. Once again, I was broken... not that I'd ever actually been repaired or anything, just more broken. For a time, I stopped fighting it. I resigned myself to the fact that this was my life, it was the way it was going to be and I couldn't do anything to change it.
The we got pregnant again, we bought a house, our daughter was born. My body did not do well with that last pregnancy and I was officially diagnosed with endometriosis when the doctor did my tubal. I began having persistent stomach problems and lack of appetite. I went from 160lbs to 120lbs in a few months. I didn't know it at the time, but this was my body reacting to the long term stress and abuse.
Then there is that moment where everything changes. I had been distant from my brother for many years – I did not deal well with his incarceration so I went back to what my mom had taught me when I was young – denial, bottle it up, pretend it just doesn't exist. I took my oldest son to see the new Star Wars movie – it was his first movie in a theater. It was a milestone and it broke my heart that my big brother was not there for it. I broke through my issues and wrote him a letter that began a dialogue that is now a healthy, working relationship. He utilized his time in prison effectively – he went to groups, he learned multiple trades, he kept out of trouble. He has so many tools in his tool box he could open a hardware store.
When I reconnected with my brother I woke myself up... and not just to the pain of losing him for so many years. Once my eyes were open they were open to all of it... I could no longer blind myself. I could no longer accept that this was the way it was supposed to be.
In preparation for the end of my marriage I enrolled in beauty school. They said 14months, it took 18. It was the most excruciating 18 months of my life. I wouldn't even admit to myself what I was doing – I kept saying "It's just in case" & "It's to help our family" but deep down I knew it was about survival after the fact... and he knew something had changed. When we fought and he threatened to leave I no longer begged him to stay – I told him to GO! I used my stomach problems as an excuse to not have sex anymore than I had to. I spent as little time with him as I could.
This past January – after many doctor visits, after seeing specialist after specialist I was diagnosed with anxiety. (Anxiety is still just a symptom though – a symptom of Complex PTSD) and we reset the cycle one last time. We communicated effectively for a little while – we cried together, we said we'd make it better. As my graduation from school approached, the cycle devolved. It wasn't even three months before we were back to that point again. I had a full on panic attack in expectation of his reaction to an event and he did not react at all. The next morning I told him I didn't want to be married to someone I was afraid of... he said he'd leave.
Then he changed his mind... he said he couldn't go. "If you're the one that wants to end this so bad then you should go"... so I did. He didn't really think I would, I know he was bluffing... but now I'm free... mostly. I had to leave my babies behind... I had no choice. They are safe for now – his current game is "I can do it better than you"... to prove he can be a better parent than I ever was. Realistically (I repeat this to myself every day) it is better this way – he is financially stable, he can afford the house, he can afford to feed & cloth them, and he keeps his own mother too... 3 months out & I still don't even have a job (realizing the CPTSD is a huge factor in this – which is in part why I came to this forum).
So that brings us to now – I graduated from beauty school & left him within days. I am living in an extended stay hotel, I haven't had a job in over a decade, my cousin (who also recently left an abusive relationship) has been "funding my escape", after 19 years and tons of work towards rehabilitation my brother is now out of prison, I have one friend who might as well be a counselor himself, I go to a therapist that doesn't really help me much, I have been criticized for my decision to leave the kids with him – especially by those closest to me (MOM) and told I am doing it all wrong, I am struggling to keep myself afloat but
I AM NOT GOING BACK!!!
It took so much out of me to escape, and I am working hard to rebuild myself... so that I can not only be a better person moving forward but so I can help my children rebuild themselves when they are free too... I cannot rescue them yet but I will.
So yeah, thats my story - the condensed version anyway. It felt good to run the whole thing... if you made it this far, thanks for reading - you really are a Hero lol.
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