Swimming through the waves

Ugh. Haven’t written in a long time. Let’s see.

I was abused by my family my whole childhood, which left me with a lot of trauma. I also have ADHD, which makes working (and moving out) really hard.

The upside is that now I have my ADHD diagnosis, and meds. It’s really hard to have access to meds where I live, so that’s a constant worry in the back of my mind. I’ve also been dealing with annoying side effects, to the point where I’m only taking it sometimes. I can’t risk talking about this with my psychiatrist and have my meds taken away, so I just have to deal with it on my own.

I’ve also been taking care of my physical health, for the first time ever, and my lifestyle is way healthier now.  I’ve actually been doing things like exercising and going out on weekends.

One of the things I’ve noticed is that my menstrual cycle has a HUGE impact on my symptoms. I’ll try to address that with my doctor in the next couple of weeks.

I’ve also been able to work more, so that’s cool. Still not enough though, but I’m trying.


I’ve been thinking of only dating women (if I ever date someone in my life), cause I can’t even imagine being with a man. Too much baggage.


The situation with one of my abusers is kinda stable at the moment, thankfully. They still often flash their genitals, and do shit like walking in on me taking a shower. At least they’re not threatening me to kick me out.

In terms of my housing situation, I might be able to reach an agreement with my abuser. I can’t even believe I’m typing this, it feels too good to be true. However it’s super soon to know for sure, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they change their mind or use it as a manipulation tool. I’m just… hoping for the best.

At the end of the day I’m still at their mercy. They have the power to do whatever the fuck they want with me.


I haven’t been to therapy for a couple of months, but I don’t even feel like it. Therapists are shit here, I’ve been thought that enough times.


That’s what I’ve been dealing with for the last couple of months.


This week I was thinking about getting a second job, but then I started remembering all the issues I had in my previous ones. I realized I really struggle with social situations. I get really overwhelmed. I get overwhelmed just by leaving my house. Sometimes I have weird episodes (I call them “shutdowns”) where my body just stops working and I can barely move or speak.

Getting an ADHD diagnosis was great cause it helped me to see and cope with a lot of symptoms, but I’ve been thinking “is there something else?…”

I started considering autism… I’ve reading a little bit about it, and some things fit. Like getting overwhelmed when going out, or struggling with eye contact.

Sadly, all these symptoms get in the way of me getting a job, or getting a roommate.


I don’t know. Time will tell I guess.  Shit keeps coming up, but I keep moving forward.

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.