Recovery checklist

Throughout my life I’ve managed to:
  • survive my childhood
  • decided I wasn’t going to die, at the age of 19
  • decided I was going to start the career that I’ve always dreamed of (even though all my abusers were against it)
  • staring recovering on my own, analyzing my thoughts and doing cognitive therapy exercises (before I even know that existed)
  • learn a shit ton about mental health
  • quitting my job and deciding to start my own online business
  • realized I had ADHD
  • realized that I had (and was, and am) being abused my whole life
  • surviving adult years

 

This year I’ve managed to:

  • tell my friends a little bit about my story and my present (first time talking to people who know me irl about it)
  • write and share my story online (so I can have proof that it’s real, and I don’t die with the secret)
  • make friends online (on Discord servers), connecting to other abuse survivors
  • get the ADHD diagnosis
  • starting therapy (which is far from great, but it’s better than nothing)
  • kinda talk to my abusers about my mental health (obviously wasn’t a positive experience, but at least they can’t they they “aren’t aware of it”)
  • start a local mental health online group (which happens to be pretty unique and special group)
  • be part of a feminism online network (which helps me feel less alone, and I know I can go there for help if I think I’ll be kicked out form my abuser’s house)

 

I still need:

  • meds for the ADHD, and with that being able to have a routine
  • someone irl who I can tell my whole story, so I feel heard and I don’t have to be the only one carrying this big secret
  • a good therapist (someone who is emphatic, so I can talk about my abuse and feel heard and understood)
  • to feel better (with meds help), working, saving money, and moving out.
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The gaslighting slows me down, but I’m still going

I’m in the process of getting (at least part of) the treatment that I need, so I’ve been talking to my abusers about my mental health.

It’s hell because they’re full of shit and gaslighting. They’re like “yeah, I support you”, when in reality they

  • deny the things I struggle with,
  • think I have no real problems,
  • think I’m too sensitive,
  • showed little to no empathy after me literally saying “I’ve been struggling for a really long time, I can barely do stuff, and the professionals I’ve seen think I should get treated”,  (no best wishes, offering me support or help, thanking me for sharing it with them, etc.)
  • ignored / were completely unaware of my mental illness ever since I was a kid,
  • blame me for “not saying anything”, even though I did but they shot me down time every single time,
  • think (and tell me) that getting professional help is pointless, and that the only thing that will really help me is their religion,
  • make remarks about how “sad” they are that I treat them “coldly” ever “since I was a kid” which is a blatant lie,
  • blame me for our lack of relationship, while also making me pity them cause they’re “alone and have no relationships”,
  • and obviously completely ignore and deny the fact that they have always treated me like trash.

I’m probably forgetting things.
But they support me getting treatment! Whatever’s best for me!

Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit.

 


 

It’s been hard, but I’m getting there. I’m trying to get the therapy and medication I need, I’m talking to people, I’m advocating for mental health.

It’s hard, but I’m getting there.

Gaslighting excellence

I can barely work or function, so I’m afraid that this might continue for a long time (like it has my whole life) and it’ll get to a point where my family will kick me out from my house.

Because of that, I had a conversation with them and told them I was having lot of symptoms and that I’m having a hard time doing things.

One of my abusers talked about their religion for a eternity and then just basically said “yeah, okay, if you feel shitty you should get help or whatever”.

(I want to point out that it’s ridiculous the fact that I had to “tell” my family that I was mentally ill, as if it’s not completely visible and it has been for years. I’ve also mentioned being depressed and suicidal in the past, but that also went unnoticed by them).

She spoke a lot of gaslighting shit, like “I wouldn’t blame you for that” when she has told me a million times in the past, when I was so depressed I could barely move, that that was an attitude issue and that I needed to grow up.

She also said that I “put too much pressure on myself, that she doesn’t think anything wrong of me” when in past, when I had a hard time in college because of my depression, she accused me of using her for the money and just wasting my time because I was a lazy shit.

She also said “everyone feels bad! the world sucks!” which is what she always says, completely dismissing the fact that I’m clearly less functioning that “everyone”, and that I don’t just “feel shitty”.

 

But yeah, once again, trying to explain to my family that I’m mentally ill, and them just gaslighting me and completely ignoring what I’m saying! 🙂

I wish they would fucking choke 🙂

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.

This is what they’ve done to me

I need to write this so I can get it off my chest.

It’s so hard for me to just imagine having sex. I’m in my twenties and still just masturbating is a fucking struggle. I  get triggered every time.

It’s better than before, now at least I can imagine someone wanting to have sex with me, but I still feel like I’m being a spoiled brat, using someone for my own benefit (that’s how they see me). But it’s actually the opposite, my mind always tends to think that the other persons would just fuck me to get off, like a sex toy. Just using my body, because no one could really want me.

I was imagining having actual sex with someone, where both of us want to fuck each other, and I realized that’s what’s sex is. If it’s not like that, then it’s rape. And there are people in this fucking world who would find me attractive, and who would actually want to have sex with me.

It’s hard for me to accept my body. Or just have a body, or remembering that I have one. I was thinking this has always been the case, since I was a child, and obviously that was thanks to my family.

I remembered when I was 13 or 14, and we were having dinner with my whole family, and some friends of them. They decided to start talking about my appearance (that’s the only thing they would talk about me) and saying, once again, how I should change my hair, change that, pay more attention to my appearance. One of them said I looked “horrible”, and then asked “Don’t you want to attract the opposite sex?”.

What kind of fucked up question is that? Of course everyone agreed. They also starting criticizing how “shy” I was, and how I would never talk. One of their friends, who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, tried to make it better saying “Oh, well I’m sure that when she does have something to say, it’s brilliant!”. My abuser shook their head, with a face that said “Trust me, no.”

They did that. Those people who say they love me did that to me.

I can’t even look at my body. For most of my life I didn’t even feel it. I was like a fucking cloud. I didn’t feel like I was a girl, I didn’t feel like I had a gender. I didn’t feel like I was a person.

This is the fucking proof of what they did to me. This fucking blog, this fucking post. Just so my brain doesn’t try to delete it and forget everything that ever happened to me, like it usually does.

I was a fucking child. They were supposed to tell me “Hey, are boys being nice to you? Do you feel comfortable in your own skin? Remember you’re beautiful and that I’ll protect you.” I was a 13 year old girl. But they were telling me “Your body doesn’t belong to you. Make sure you’re pretty to boys, that’s your only fucking use and you’re failing at it.”

Fuck all of them.

I hope one day someone sees the pain I’ve been through. And they deserve to fucking die. They don’t deserve to see my fucking face ever again.