We exist

Pros: I’m doing therapy and she’s great.
Cons: I feel like shit.

 


 

I’ve been abused my whole life. That has been my life. I don’t know how to be a human, how to live. The pain is so big.

I feel like the only way to move on is to accept it as a part of me. The abuse I’ve suffered my whole life defines who I am today. That’s just how it is.

But at the same time that makes me feel gross. Like I’m accepting it, like I wanted it. Like I liked it. I was there, therefore I was part of it. I participated by just existing.

But that is not true.

I just have to face the world, being honest with who I am. I’m an abuse survivor. It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t want it. But it defines who I am today. And I’m gonna keep going, or at least try.

We exist.

Outcast

I’m so angry at everyone. Every single neurotypicial fucker in this world.

I’m so pissed of about the fact that I was put into this situation.

I was abused my whole life, and no teacher or adult around me did shit about it. And even if they wanted to help me, they probably wouldn’t had had any resources to recommend me, since the place where I live is shit.

Because I was abused my whole life, I became mentally ill to the point where I should had been hospitalized and medicated. I received none of that, because of course my abusers will never aknoledge my mental illness, but even if they did there ain’t SHIT for abuse survivors or mentally ill people here.

I had to drop out of college in my second year because of how suicidal I was. I still haven’t been able to be functional enough to go back.

Now that I’m in my early twenties, I have to have a job and make money to survive, except I can barely do shit like eating and taking a shower. The therapists that I’ve gone to were a fucking disaster. There isn’t a single support group for basic shit like depression or anxiety where I live.

Professionals don’t know what ADHD is, and there’s only one med that treats it that is not illegal here.

I’m not trying to throw people under the bus, or to make them feel guilty, but it just makes me sad the fact that in some places, mental health resources exists.

What the fuck am I suppoused to do???

All these years, while I’ve been recovering ON MY OWN, I’ve heard people from other countries saying “reach out! that’s the best thing you can do!”.

Well, what if there’s nothing there?

That’s how things are where I live. Even if you survive the abuse, you might die when you reach adulthood because you have no resources to recover.

Maybe surviving the abuse wasn’t enough. Maybe I’ll end up dead anyway.

My story

Trigger warning: child sex abuse, incest, abuse.

 

I was born two decades ago. My whole life I suffered from emotional abuse from my family, and was sexually abused by one? of them when I was possibly a toddler. They also brainwashed me with a sort of “religion” that they created.

I had no support, from anyone.

I first wanted to kill myself at 13, and during my teenage years that was all I could think about. Some of my symptoms where extreme maladaptive daydreaming, hallucinations, and being completely disconnected from my identity (years later I discovered it was OSDD-1).

I hit rock bottom right after finishing high school. I was delusional, convinced that the world was going to end (by my religious family member), and ready to die.

I had been so hurt by my abusers, to the point that I could not longer pretend that didn’t happen, but I didn’t know how to feel anger. I had never been allowed to feel it, so I had no idea how to express it.

With time, I was able to do it. I was feeling angry for the first time in my life. I was venting, and complaining, and validating my emotions (not in front of my abusers, obviously). That’s when I decided I wanted to live, but I would do it for me, not because I had to” or because that’s what my abusers wanted.

So that’s when I started recovering. And when I say “recovering”, I mean doing that completely on my own. My abusers had convinced me that therapy/psychology/just the world in general was bullshit, so I didn’t seek out professional help. But I started reading about mental health, journaling, analyzing my thoughts, etc.

It actually worked. I started recovering. Of course, it wasn’t a simple process. The period where I started college was also extremely hard, I had to drop out eventually, and my abusers where as cruel as always. But with time, my mind got a little better.

It actually got so much better, to the point where I didn’t hate myself or the world anymore. But I still was depressed. “What’s the problem, then?” I thought. That’s when I realized: it was my family. That’s what pushed me to be mentally ill in the first place. That’s what’s keeping me from being happy today.

I had a really hard time remembering my past, so I started reading my diaries from when I was younger. I started to remember, and puzzling everything together.

That was a year ago. Being able to see the fact that you’ve been abused is not something easy, every abuse survivor knows that. Specially when you’ve been as brainwashed as I was. I was going back and forth, seeing the abuse, and then denying it completely and wanting to kill myself for being so “stupid and crazy”.

With time, the doubts went away and I began to fully accept it. It was very painful, and I felt completely alone (which I was, and still am). But I guess I got over it pretty quickly. At the end of the day, I’ve never really had a relationship with my “family”, so seeing them as strangers wasn’t hard.

It was also a good thing, in a sad way: for the first time, my life made sense. For the first time, I could understand why I wanted to die, why I saw myself and the world the way I did.

But it wasn’t over. I had a period where I would get triggered very time I masturbated. It wasn’t the first time, but it had never been that often. A couple of weeks went by, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Why was that happening?

I started wondering if something could have happened. If I had been abused not only emotionally, but also in other ways.

Memories came up, flashbacks came up, and I realized I’ve had symptoms of sex all my life. Things still aren’t clear, but I know something happened. For now, that’s enough. Digging into it provokes a HUGE fear in me, like I’ve never felt before in my life. I don’t have the support or resources to process it right now.

Which brings me to the other thing. During this time, I tried getting professional help. It was a disaster. All three therapists that saw me couldn’t understand why I was struggling (I am NOT joking). They would treat me like I was stupid, and just being dramatic, and refused to acknowledge as true anything I would bring up. Things as basic as my mom being absolutely insane, or me having panic attacks.

When I brought up the fact that I thought I might have been sexually abused because I was having flashbacks, one of them told me “Don’t you think that if you had been raped you would remember?”

She said that. She fucking said that.

Any professional in this planet should know that is not only possible, but absolutely common for people to remember their abuse years after it’s happened. But she fucking said that.

That was the last time I tried getting professional help.

And I just kept going. On my own, trying to recover, trying to accept what happened. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m trying.

Now, the focus of my life is on my work. Even though I still struggle a lot, I have to make money since I’m already in my twenties. Of course, my abusers refuse to acknowledge anything they’ve ever done, or even the fact that I’m mentally ill. Hell, they see me as an abuser, because I’m a “spoiled monster” who “uses them”. The truth is that I can barely function. But I’m trying, since I have no other choice, or I’ll probably end up in the street or dead.

Even when I feel a little bit better, my ADHD makes my life hard. Getting treatment for it is super hard where I live, so yay. Not only my family failed me, but also the whole fucking health system.

That’s where I’m at right now. Trying to work, trying to reach out to people. And telling my story. That way, if I die, at least the world will know that it was my abusers’ fault.

 


 

Writing this was so draining I don’t have the energy to proofread it, I apologize for the mistakes I’m sure it has.

Rambling

One of the annoying things about being an abuse survivor is having to constantly check if you’re being “healthy” and doing “what’s best for you”.

At least for me, since I’m not receiving any treatment so I have to be my own therapist.

I know that having relationships and being around people is “the thing that helps you the most”. Every person who’s done recovery says that. I get it. It’s just that so far I was too busy surviving, I didn’t have the energy to “just go out and meet new people!”.

Or to meet people, period, since I don’t have any relationships.

 

I guess that a lot of people would feel incredibly lonely in my position. I guess I’m used to it, I’ve been alone my whole life. You can’t miss something that you don’t have.

Although it is depressing to think about it. In my twenties, and I’ve never had a meaningful relationship. And I mean with neither friends, family or boyfriend.

Not one.

I have maladaptive daydreaming, so I use it to cope. But every once in a while, I think “what if I die tomorrow? I’ve never been loved. No one ever got to know me. No one got to be happy about the fact that I was in their life.”

 


It’s in times like these one when I realize how much damage they’ve done. 20 years unloved, and I’ll never be able to fix that.

They destroyed me, completely. I should be dead. The fact that I’m alive is a miracle.

And it will never be over. It’s gonna be hard meeting people, having relationships, having partner, and kids, and everything. Everything is going to be a fucking struggle.

Why? Why me? Why did I have to go through that?


 

I know I should go out and meet people. I know that, in theory, that’s going to help me. I just don’t have the fucking energy.

I guess I’ll have to figure something out.