Not sure where I belong in here. I'm not diagnosed with anything. I know something's wrong. I could fit in some other areas, but it starts with my father's military service.
My father served over a decade in the British military, from when he was 16 years old (minimum age to join in UK). My parents were still teenagers when I was born. He has been diagnosed with PTSD. When I was very little, I didn't talk. I was sent to speech therapists. My hearing was tested. They couldn't make me talk. When I finally did talk, it was hard. I've never stuttered. My parents were told I had selective mutism. I still struggle to speak when sometimes.
As a little girl, I hated going home. My parents weren't abusive in the sense that they left marks or didn't care. My parents were always exploding. I think he wore out my mother and after awhile, she was just as bad as him. Sometimes when Dad was dragging me around the house by my collar screaming at me, I thought he was going to kill me. I was so ashamed. But the worst was when my Dad would get into fights with other men. I know now that what he was doing was illegal on another level. He's ex-special forces, he could've killed them. I remember him dragging a guy out of a car and beating him. I remember shaking and crying and watching. It wasn't the first or last time I saw him get into a fight. He didn't start them, but he didn't walk away or de-escalate them.
I would wake up at stupid hours of the night freaking out over spelling tests at school. I would melt down during tests. They felt like when my parents would stand over me, demanding an answer, but I couldn't string together a coherent thought to give them an answer and they were going to explode if I didn't. And then I wouldn't be able to get any words out anyway. As an adult, I still find speech a battle when I'm upset. I'd run out of time to answer them and they'd explode. I gave up doing tests at school. I wouldn't answer any of the questions. Teachers would call my name out in class and all I could do was stare back at them.
I felt guilty because sometimes I hoped my parents would die. Maybe they wouldn't come home. Maybe something bad would happen to them and I wouldn't have to face them.
I had problems with kids at school, but nothing was on the same level as scary as my parents. I could block other kids out. I was so far buried in my head, it was like it never even happened. Kids couldn't hurt me. I looked fearless at school but I knew I was a coward. My parents only had to move too suddenly and I'd flinch. They smacked, but never beat. My father hated seeing me flinch. He'd get so angry at me for being a coward. His voice was so loud, my ears would ring after sometimes.
In high school, I was sexually assaulted. I couldn't scream, I can never scream when it really hurts. So I bit him and he hit me. I stabbed him. The adults in the house asked what happened. I couldn't speak and it was a superficial wound. I avoided him. He raped a 13 year old a few months after that. I felt bad about that for a long time. I hadn't told anyone. I just let people think I was a crazy bitch. I couldn't get the words out when I tried to say what happened. In my head I'm screaming but on the outside I look okay. I'm the same on a rollercoaster. It's like at a certain point, I get so scared or upset, I shut down.
I got involved with low end drug dealers for awhile. I showed up for school so little, I almost got expelled. I would disappear for a few weeks without contacting my parents. I liked ecstasy (MDMA) and used that a lot. Sometimes I drank, but I don't like hangovers. My parents still exploded on me, but I was usually too detached and/or high to care anymore. Things got better when I got a job and moved out. The world didn't feel so scary without them.
Anyway. These things happened a long time ago. It shouldn't matter anymore. My parents went for therapy in their 40s. I'm married with kids. I've kept a lid on things for a long time. I quit drinking and doing drugs before I had kids. I stopped starving myself, I eat three meals a day now. But lately I've been having problems sleeping. Headaches. Nightmares. Panic. Freaking out over nothing. I've gone back to school and I'm finding tests and exams are hitting me hard. It's just so dumb. It's just a list of questions in a room with a clock. Each round I feel like a little kid being dragged around by my collar. Choking for air. I feel like the clock is counting down to my death. It's not just during the test. Afterward my nerves are on edge. I feel raw. I'm avoiding my husband and kids. My husband is parenting alone for days each time I have a test or exam. It has very little to do with what I know or don't know. I feel depressed for days afterward. It feels like something violent is taking place but obviously, it isn't.
I'm trying to explain it to my husband and he doesn't get it. It's not getting better. It's getting worse. More headaches, more nightmares, less sleep. I'm rattled.
Military/emergency might not be the right place for this. But looking at people who've had childhood abuse, it's not really the same. Or victims of sexual abuse. I don't feel like I exactly fit into a category. I've read up on children of combat veteran's but it was specifically for Americans. I can relate to a lot of their experiences. I'm not sure what I'm looking for here. I feel like my Dad turned my home into a combat zone sometimes. He didn't mean to, but my childhood hinged on his PTSD. I don't have an enemy to blame here. As I've gotten older, I understand more about what was happening, but that doesn't change what I'm going through right now.
My father served over a decade in the British military, from when he was 16 years old (minimum age to join in UK). My parents were still teenagers when I was born. He has been diagnosed with PTSD. When I was very little, I didn't talk. I was sent to speech therapists. My hearing was tested. They couldn't make me talk. When I finally did talk, it was hard. I've never stuttered. My parents were told I had selective mutism. I still struggle to speak when sometimes.
As a little girl, I hated going home. My parents weren't abusive in the sense that they left marks or didn't care. My parents were always exploding. I think he wore out my mother and after awhile, she was just as bad as him. Sometimes when Dad was dragging me around the house by my collar screaming at me, I thought he was going to kill me. I was so ashamed. But the worst was when my Dad would get into fights with other men. I know now that what he was doing was illegal on another level. He's ex-special forces, he could've killed them. I remember him dragging a guy out of a car and beating him. I remember shaking and crying and watching. It wasn't the first or last time I saw him get into a fight. He didn't start them, but he didn't walk away or de-escalate them.
I would wake up at stupid hours of the night freaking out over spelling tests at school. I would melt down during tests. They felt like when my parents would stand over me, demanding an answer, but I couldn't string together a coherent thought to give them an answer and they were going to explode if I didn't. And then I wouldn't be able to get any words out anyway. As an adult, I still find speech a battle when I'm upset. I'd run out of time to answer them and they'd explode. I gave up doing tests at school. I wouldn't answer any of the questions. Teachers would call my name out in class and all I could do was stare back at them.
I felt guilty because sometimes I hoped my parents would die. Maybe they wouldn't come home. Maybe something bad would happen to them and I wouldn't have to face them.
I had problems with kids at school, but nothing was on the same level as scary as my parents. I could block other kids out. I was so far buried in my head, it was like it never even happened. Kids couldn't hurt me. I looked fearless at school but I knew I was a coward. My parents only had to move too suddenly and I'd flinch. They smacked, but never beat. My father hated seeing me flinch. He'd get so angry at me for being a coward. His voice was so loud, my ears would ring after sometimes.
In high school, I was sexually assaulted. I couldn't scream, I can never scream when it really hurts. So I bit him and he hit me. I stabbed him. The adults in the house asked what happened. I couldn't speak and it was a superficial wound. I avoided him. He raped a 13 year old a few months after that. I felt bad about that for a long time. I hadn't told anyone. I just let people think I was a crazy bitch. I couldn't get the words out when I tried to say what happened. In my head I'm screaming but on the outside I look okay. I'm the same on a rollercoaster. It's like at a certain point, I get so scared or upset, I shut down.
I got involved with low end drug dealers for awhile. I showed up for school so little, I almost got expelled. I would disappear for a few weeks without contacting my parents. I liked ecstasy (MDMA) and used that a lot. Sometimes I drank, but I don't like hangovers. My parents still exploded on me, but I was usually too detached and/or high to care anymore. Things got better when I got a job and moved out. The world didn't feel so scary without them.
Anyway. These things happened a long time ago. It shouldn't matter anymore. My parents went for therapy in their 40s. I'm married with kids. I've kept a lid on things for a long time. I quit drinking and doing drugs before I had kids. I stopped starving myself, I eat three meals a day now. But lately I've been having problems sleeping. Headaches. Nightmares. Panic. Freaking out over nothing. I've gone back to school and I'm finding tests and exams are hitting me hard. It's just so dumb. It's just a list of questions in a room with a clock. Each round I feel like a little kid being dragged around by my collar. Choking for air. I feel like the clock is counting down to my death. It's not just during the test. Afterward my nerves are on edge. I feel raw. I'm avoiding my husband and kids. My husband is parenting alone for days each time I have a test or exam. It has very little to do with what I know or don't know. I feel depressed for days afterward. It feels like something violent is taking place but obviously, it isn't.
I'm trying to explain it to my husband and he doesn't get it. It's not getting better. It's getting worse. More headaches, more nightmares, less sleep. I'm rattled.
Military/emergency might not be the right place for this. But looking at people who've had childhood abuse, it's not really the same. Or victims of sexual abuse. I don't feel like I exactly fit into a category. I've read up on children of combat veteran's but it was specifically for Americans. I can relate to a lot of their experiences. I'm not sure what I'm looking for here. I feel like my Dad turned my home into a combat zone sometimes. He didn't mean to, but my childhood hinged on his PTSD. I don't have an enemy to blame here. As I've gotten older, I understand more about what was happening, but that doesn't change what I'm going through right now.