Warning: incest Continue reading “Today, the truth”
I got triggered again, after a long time.
Warning: incest content under the cut. Continue reading “Keeping the monsters under control”
Okay. I’m going through a couple of days of a mini manic episode so my mind is all over the place. I’ll try to write this so I can get it off my head.
I’ve always dreamed of the idea of moving to a different country, living in a place where no one knows who I am, away from my family, a fresh start. I don’t mean like “disappear without telling anyone”, but just moving.
My goal was always to go to a country in the same continent. However, a year ago I came across a different country I had never contemplated before. It’s in the opposite side of the planet, a completely different culture. Sure, it has good things as well as bad things, but at least they’re new. It would be the ultimate “fresh start”.
It’s not like I had a plan, I didn’t even admit it to myself, but just having that thought in the back of my mind brought me so much peace. A new hope for my future, like I’d never had before.
Last week I decided that maybe I should actually look into it, and started reading about it. Then I came across a video of a girl explaining how she had just gotten her visa, and my hurt sank. It’s not like I thought getting a visa took 5 minutes, but I just had the realization that this is for neurotypicals only. Having a stable and important job, a degree, a career, a good relationship with your family, a good reason to move to that country. I will never have those things that you need to have in order to get a visa.
This is a neurotypical world built for neurotypicals only.
This is one part of the whole thing. The other thing that really triggered me is sexism.
Both mine and that culture are sexist, just like any other culture in this planet. That’s obvious.
However, sexism manifest itself differently in every case. And although that culture is much more conservative, and I’m sure sexism is well integrated into that, there are also some other things there that don’t exist here. Like men respecting and treating women nicely, or finding a girl beautiful regardless of her tits size, or boys talking about how they genuinely want to get married and have kids when they’re a couple of years older.
I had never seen that before. Ever, in my life.
And considering how fucking traumatized I am, and how hard it is for me to just be around men, the idea of living in a place where men are less scary sounded like a fucking dream.
Guess is not going to happen though.
I decided to write a year recap to clear my mind. As always, remembering things is hard for me, so writing is really useful.
I’ll start with the end of last year, cause that’s really where this past “cycle” started. I had recovered from a lot of my mental health symptoms and I was really proud of that, since I did it with a lot of hard work, and on my own (treatment is not easy to get where I live).
However, as time went by, I still wasn’t feeling okay. Then I realized something: is not about me. I feel okay, I’m okay with my life. It’s the things that are outside of me are the ones that make me unhappy. And one of those main things was my family.
I realized that my family made me feel a lot of pain. At the beginning, I didn’t understand why, but I started thinking. And realizing things. I started reading my old diaries from when I was 13 to 18, since it was really hard for me to remember my life up to that point clearly. Then I started remembering things.
And that’s when I started seeing the truth: my family is filled with crazy motherfuckers, and I’ve been abused. It all made sense. My life made sense for the first time ever. So did all my mental illness, which up until then I couldn’t understand why I was ill.
(I accidentally found out that I have ADD too, which was also depressing).
So what so I do now? I guess I have to move out as soon as possible. I was desperate for money, but I hated the idea of going back to the type of jobs that I had had in the past. (I had a horrible experience, I’ll talk about it some other time). Luckily I came up with the idea of working online, as a freelancer, and LUCKILY it worked. So during those two months where I was setting things up for my new job, I pushed the “abuse thing” to the back of my head.
Then December came around, and I started to feel unwell. I didn’t make the connection, I kinda forgot about the abuse. I just got really depressed in only a couple of days. It was brutal. All my BPD symptoms came up so hard. All day long (and I mean all. day. long) I only thought about is how much I wanted to be raped, and beaten, and murdered. Hated by all the people I care about. I couldn’t sleep, and I had no energy. Standing up or going to the kitchen was physically painful. I was barely eating. My stomach problems were at their worst, so I had to go to the hospital for medication.
I saw abuser B during those weeks, but I barely remember anything from it. I do remember that their asked me why I didn’t want to see their family, since they “miss me” and “don’t understand why I’m so distant.” Fucking hilarious. I said I just didn’t feel comfortable around them. “We have very different personalities, we just don’t click.” Of course that’s not the truth, I don’t want to see them because they treat me like I’m worse than trash, but they would tear me apart if I ever said something like that.
I was so nervous when we had that conversation, I was shaking. Later on, I saw their family only for a couple of minutes. They asked me if there’s anything going on, if they did something wrong. “Is it about the things that we said about [family member]?”
That’s it. That’s the only thing they could think of. Something that is not even related to me. They can’t think of any occasion in which they were a piece of shit to me. And the funny thing is, [family member] is also my abuser, so I couldn’t care less about the shit that they’ve got to say about them.
Anyway, December passed, and during January and February I was just as depressed. I was feeling really suicidal too. In one occasion, after something that happened with abuser A, I actually considered doing it. I was waiting to cross the street in a corner, cars were coming, and I considered to just keep walking. I didn’t.
NSFW. Sex abuse trigger warning.