My facets

This is embarrassing but I had to get it off my chest.

Host: M, girl, real age. Straight.
Doesn’t really front, ever. Don’t know much about her. The facets probably showed up when she was young to protect her, so she’s not really aware of the trauma, although she might hold some memories from when I was really young. Can’t front since my life is too overwhelming for any human being. Also, I’m afraid she would be too confrontational with my abusers. Really connected to the body (the few times she’s fronted).

Protector: L. gender less, no age although it feels like they’re a bit younger than the Host. Bisexual.
The one that has been fronting for years. Lots of dissociation, has really bad memory,  has a “just survive and keep going” modus operandi. Although they’ve been fronting for years, I hate feeling genderless. It feels more like a robot, instead of a person.
Probably showed up to protect the host when she was little. Totally disconnected from the body.

Another facet: A, masculine, around the age of the protector. Bisexual.
Don’t know much about him, never fronts. Gender dysphoria issues when he’s around. Doesn’t really hold any memories. Feels okay about my abusers, since he doesn’t see the abuse.

Little facet. Girl. Around 5 maybe? But with the body of an adult. Non-verbal.
Been around for a while, but I wasn’t sure if she was really a facet or just a part of my personality, until she co-fronted one day when I got triggered. Dormant pretty much all of the time.

 

I hate having facets cause I would love to feel like a normal girl my age, but I don’t think the host could live my life.

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.

Their only goal was to kill me

I have one year and a half to make enough money to maintain myself and move out. Right now I barely make enough money to buy food.

That’s how long my abuser will help me financially. Which would be fine, in any other circumstances, since I’m in my twenties. Except I’m mentally ill, an abuse survivor, and I’m functional only 60% of the year. I can’t get treatment. I had to drop out of college. I wouldn’t be able to find a job, outside of the online job I have right now (that I’ve created myself).

Have a child, abuse them their whole childhood, and then kick them out once they are in their twenties, right? Regardless if they are a functional human being or not.

That’s the situation my abuser created for me. That’s them, pushing me once again to kill myself. That’s them trying to kill me.

That’s all they’ve ever wanted. To destroy me. That’s what they’ve been trying to do since I was born.

 

How am I going to survive this? When will I stop fearing for my life? How much of my life are they going to destroy?

 

Why did I have to go through this? Why did my life have to be horrible? Why did I have to be born in a family that only had me to abuse me?

I’m so tired of fighting for my survival.

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.