Anonymous Starling
New Here
I don’t know where to start…
For now, I would like to remain anonymous as I still feel crazy and I don’t trust myself; I have a lot of self doubt and I don’t want to make myself look out to be a fool!
This is going to be a long thread.. So, if you really want to join this roller coaster of a ride— BUCKLE UP. I’ve written a lot over the years, so this is going to bounce from my experience of growing up with an emotionally/mentally abusive paranoid Narc as a father, to having locked away memories, to be being certain I endured sexual abuse as a young child, to my experiences with Misophonia (a disorder that causes extreme panic, pain, and anger when triggering sounds are heard), PGAD (Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder; a pain disorder), and then to the possibility I may have either OSDD or P DID, as well as a struggle with MD (maladaptive daydreaming).
I don’t feel like rewriting everything I’ve been writing about for months to years, so I will be copying and pasting a lot of my notes to this thread.
Again, this is gonna be a ride. Don’t feel compelled to answer or read it all. If you are interested, however, I would greatly appreciate your comfort and support.
Here we go…
I don’t know where to start. I feel as though I’ve only been alive for the last five years now, and even those years have not been a life because I have been stuck in bed with such severe chronic pain, I scream my lungs out every day from how badly it hurts.
I was diagnosed with a condition called PGAD (Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder), however my symptoms do not stem from nerve damage, meds, or anything else that is known to cause PGAD. My symptoms aren’t even exactly the same as PGAD.. they’re a little different. For the last five years now, I’ve been suffering from this pain— it feels as though an invisible man is poking my cl!t 24/7. Other times, it’s even worse and it hurts so badly, I want to take a knife and cut everything out.
I also have Misophonia, and those trigger sounds, visuals, objects, and vibrations— they all trigger the pain immediately and then I’m hiding in my bed screaming from the pain. If it weren’t for God, I don’t think I’d still be here today. I often scream and cry, begging Him to take me home, but the truth is I am scared and I don’t want to die yet. I want to live. I mentioned I feel like I’ve only been alive for the last five years. Here’s why..
I am 18 right now, almost 19. Everything before the age 14 is either dark, blurry, and in third person, or completely blank and non existent. Everything before the age 11 is even more blank. I have just a couple memories from early childhood, but those are so dark, blurry and in third person. Any other pieces of my childhood that I have now, I’ve gotten from either pictures or working through therapy and also working on getting my memories back myself.
Growing up, my father had 50/50 custody of me. He was emotionally and mentally abusive (extreme paranoid narcissist). I grew up feeling like I wasn’t just his daughter, I also had to play the role of best friend, therapist, and wife. I watched many women come and go from his life, but I was his one supply source he’d never lose.
When I’d go to my mom’s (where I was totally safe) on her custody days, I’d panic and cry because “daddy can’t be lonely, he’ll be sad! He needs me!” That was my childhood and really all I really associate childhood with. When I was 12 or 13, my father ended up moving out of the state, breaking the 50/50 custody agreement. He still begged me to fly out and visit him regularly though and I never wanted to. I always made excuses as to why. “I don’t want to fly alone on a plane.” So he’d fly to me and then fly back with me. “I don’t like flying.” So one time, he drove all the way across states to pick me up. “It just makes me really anxious.”
He’d emotionally manipulate me and gaslight me until I gave in and visited him. I ran out of excuses. I’d go when he’d tell me. (Honestly, it took years to even admit to myself that I didn’t want to be near him). Then finally… A couple months before I turned 14, I flew out to visit him. A couple days after I got there, we drove from there out a couple states to visit my grandparents on his side. I hadn’t been there in maybe 4 years prior?.. I was very happy to see my family there as it had been so long. But then the second night of us staying at my grandparents, I had a nightmare that I was r*ped. It wasn’t even a graphic dream and from an outside perspective, it probably wouldn’t even look like r*pe. But somehow, even having little to no understanding of sex or r*pe and no interest in the thought of sex prior to this nightmare, I woke up and just knew “I was r*ped in that dream.” Again, I didn’t even understand that concept prior to that dream. And somehow after having that dream, I completely understood what r*pe was, what it looked like, what it felt like, what grooming and molestation looked like and felt like— everything. There was this voice within me SCREAMING “this happened to me in real life” and I could not ignore it, but I also couldn’t believe it.
For the next year, I became completely obsessed with the idea of— not sex— but r*pe. Nightmares of r*pe became regular. Extremely intense daydreams of r*pe took over my life. I LIVED in my head. On top of all this, my PGAD symptoms appeared around puberty and this trip I had with my father and grandparents was within the same half a year as my first menstrual cycle.
As months went on, my physical pain symptoms worsened. I went on to have exams upon exams, MRIs, an x-ray, a sonogram— the doctors could find nothing else that could be causing my symptoms. But I had and still have all these signs and symptoms of sexual abuse.
Again, I hardly have any memory of anything up until the age 14– really up until that trip and I had that nightmare. Like I said, I feel like I’ve only been alive since then. Like that nightmare and that trip “put away” past me and “woke up” the me that has been alive since! I feel like a version of me lived and died at the age 6, then a new me from then lived and died at maybe 11.
Then a new me lived from 11 to right before I turned 14 and she died with that trip and nightmare. I’ve been here ever since, and I know that I know I was sexually abused at some point, I just don’t have the memory. I have been working so hard on trying to reconnect with these “versions of me” that have “died off” so that I can work my way to remembering my life, or at least what happened.
I cut off my relationship with my father back in January by the way.. whether he sexually abused me or not, he was still emotionally and mentally abusive. I have so many random “puzzle pieces” that once correctly sorted can tell me exactly what happened, but there are a few problems… One, I have no idea where these pieces belong. Some of them don’t even look or feel like they belong in the same puzzle! What if there are multiple puzzles (multiple sexual abuse events)?? (Which is what my gut tells me, but) How do I know?? Because some pieces start to click together and tell me it happened with my father…
Then some pieces tell me it happened with an adult male friend of his he invited over a couple times that I have zero memory of… Then some other pieces tell me it was BOTH of them… And then some other pieces tell me the county fair is involved.. some tell me there were multiple YOUNG men… and then finally, there’s this handful of pieces that I cannot allow myself to believe are real, because when it pieces together, they create this picture or story that I was a victim in child sex trafficking, alongside at least one other kid, and I can’t believe for a SECOND that that is even possible!!! My parents had 50/50 custody, plus, I went to elementary school up until 4th grade. SOMEONE had to have seen SOMETHING. And I know without a doubt my mom and family would have spoken up if they noticed anything off. They were always aware of the emotional/mental aspect, and did what they could for me through that. But if these scattered puzzle pieces I have, put together this incredibly insane scenario… how would no one have noticed??
The second side to this all is that growing up, my father gaslit me insanely. That’s my father’s first language. And now.. I gaslight myself. I really, really can’t trust myself. I’m so very visually creative; what if my nightmares mean nothing? Sure, I had no idea of sex or r*pe at 13, let alone at 6/7 (I had an SA-type nightmare then too), but I’m creative! My mind could’ve made it up! Or… what if I just LIKE the idea of being a victim? What if I was just born with a wicked and disgusting desire to be victimized and dominated? I felt these feelings literally all my life— I have one memory from when I was only 4 years old and in preschool.
It was Halloween and I was dressed as a kitten. The other kids and I were playing a game where they tried to catch me to make me into their “stew.” I remember this from third person.. I wanted to just go limp and let them grab me and drag me away like a ragdoll; like I was just a lifeless object. I wanted them to drag me and control me and scare me and hurt me.
What kind of 4 year old thinks or feels that way???? Was I just born a total psychopath?? Or was I just born a sl*t??? I’ve never been sexually active. I believe sex should be saved for marriage.
But if it weren’t for my family (moms side) and God being so faithful in my life, I fear I would’ve put myself in a dangerous and vulnerable situation a long time ago now.. Because I often feel like I’m only good for sex. I feel like a stray dog without its master, and now I’m worthless and I’m nothing. I’m nothing without my master.
The painful PGAD-type symptoms I experience chronically feel like they were created in me intentionally. It feels like at some point in a life I don’t remember, a man groomed and molested me in such a way that my little body would be stimulated in ways it was too early for, and then he’d touch me to relieve the painful sensations he intentionally stimulated, but then he’d pull back, leaving my little body feeling this pain that was awoken and then never fully relieved. And then he’d do it again, but then provide a little less relief each time before pulling away. Until finally, he’s created this torment with my body— this addiction.
He made it so that my body would NEED him to touch it in order to be relieved of the pain he first created. I don’t know why I think I know that. That didn’t come from any outside source. I never read anything like that, I never heard of anything like that— That all came from this voice inside me that just knows.
Somehow I just have the knowledge of that very specific grooming method. Is that a real grooming method?? I know that I know, yet I still don’t trust myself or fully believe myself.
Anyway.. I think that whenever I repressed the memory of the abuse or trauma (If this abuse really DID occur), the monster of symptoms or “addiction” he created in my body must’ve gotten repressed too. And I think that once I hit puberty, those symptoms “unpaused” and started up again.
Only now, whoever initially did it to me is no longer here to relive the pain or feed the monster he created. The pain gets so bad, I hate it but this part of me inside cries and begs that sexual abuse will happen “again” (if it ever happened at all) so that I’ll be relieved of this. No doctor or therapist has been able to reverse yet, and I think progress isn’t being made because I still can’t trust or believe myself that any sexual abuse happened to begin with.
Now I’m stuck with this pain literally 24/7, at all times it feels like I’m being poked in the cl!t and I scream and I cry and I’m just so scared that I’ll never get to live again. I’m so scared that I’ll be stuck like this for the rest of my life. I had dreams and desires. I wanted to get married and have a godly marriage and be a wife, homemaker, and mother. But I’m terrified!!
I can’t even look men in the eyes. Even the guy I loved and wanted to have a future with. I was petrified in his presence and I fear that men who show any interest in me only see me as an object, toy, or plaything. I beat myself up because I live in my head replaying these scenarios of “what if this happened and I was r*ped” or “imagine one day I get kidnapped and trafficked.” I beat myself up and say “you’re sick and disgusting and wicked!! You weren’t sexually abused, you just wish you were because you have r*pe fantasies!!”
But on the other hand, I KNOW that’s not true because I am frankly TERRIFIED at the idea of men even having any interest in me. They’re not r*pe fantasies— that is the LAST thing I want!! I’m so afraid! I can’t even look men in the eyes!! But then how come I can’t stop imagining being r*ped over and over and over as though I like it and want it to happen? And why when I was 4 did I like it when the other preschool kids dragged me in that game and I went limp like a ragdoll? And why did I used to vividly imagine wolves grabbing my limbs, ripping them off my body, and eating me alive until it made my privates physically hurt when I was little? Why why why am I dealing with any of this?? And the biggest why— WHY can’t I just REMEMBER whatever maybe happened if I WANT to remember? I’ve been trying so hard to remember… I mean, again… after pushing and working so hard, I have these scattered pieces, but they’re either too blurry or too out of the realm of possibilities. There’s no way I was trafficked! There’s no way there was more than one man! There’s no way there was another little kid that suffered alongside me at one point! There’s no way that little boy also died during that time! There is just NO WAY.
I’m losing my mind!! And I hate myself. I hate myself that I’m so blind and I hate myself for not believing myself and I hate myself for the “r*pe fantasies” and I hate myself for being afraid of men, especially those who care about me, and I hate myself for ever opening this can of worms to begin with. When I woke up from that nightmare 5 years ago, I should’ve repressed that too….. Wow. I must be really messed up.. how can I say I should’ve “repressed that too” when I’ve declared a million times in the last year alone that “all I want is to remember/know what happened to me.”
I’m shattered and scattered; divided even within my own self. I’ve been to 6 therapists (including trauma therapists) in these last 5 years and they all end up saying “you need more help then what I can provide” and then pass me around like it’s a game of hot potato and I am the potato. I don’t know where to go from here, honestly. I’ve spent these last few years so determined to figure out the truth and never give up… but I’ve now reached the point that I wish I could go back and somehow either not have had that nightmare, not have gone on that trip, or just forgotten that nightmare… but something tells me that it would’ve come out one way or another. If not that trip; if not that nightmare, it still would’ve reached me somehow. Not to mention, the PGAD-type symptoms.
I guess this was bound to happen. I was bound to end up here, stuck in bed screaming in pain, my desires for my future crushed. If what happened, happened.. and he did it.. whoever “he is,” whether it was my father, his friend, a group of teens, or all of them separate or combined… He broke me. They all broke me. They ripped me open and gutted me and tore me apart. Then I put on some nice clothes and a mask and I covered it all up.
It worked for a few years. I survived. And then suddenly, that cover up started to fall apart. Not enough though. I don’t know how, but somehow I’ve managed to cling on to whatever is left of my mask and cover up claiming “I want the truth out!!” but still withholding it somehow. I don’t know how. I really do want to remember. Why can’t I? What am I doing wrong, what’s stopping me from remembering? Is it because I won’t believe or trust myself? How can I believe something that has no proof or that I have no memory of? What if my signs and symptoms are just symptoms of my OCD or Autism, or what if I’m psychotic, or what if I really was just born a sick little sl*t with a wicked and sick love for r*pe fantasies? I recall having this terrible nightmare when I was around 7 years old. I remember the dreams I had throughout my entire life more than I remember my actual life. In this nightmare, I “woke up” in the night and slowly crawled out of my bed and headed for my door which was wide open and the hall light was on. But before I could make it to the doorway, I was grabbed from behind. Two unidentifiable young men grabbed me and started tossing me back and fourth between each other like a ragdoll. I didn’t fight it. I shut down; dissociated. I just let them throw me around. Somehow at some point I was stripped naked. At some point, they started forcefully shoving my face and mouth into their naked rear ends and their laughs surrounded me and the room was filled with this green smoke and they said “breathe in it” and laughed some more. This was the scariest nightmare I’ve ever had. So scary and traumatic, I dissociated IN the dream. I didn’t know that was even possible. To be honest.. I’d consider the possibility of this maybe being an actual memory of real life and it not actually being a dream.. But this dream took place in my room at my mom’s house, where I was safest. And there’s no way two young men appeared in that room in the night and filled it with green smoke and threw me around, reeking havoc and being as loud as they were, without waking anyone up. There’s no way two young men could’ve even gotten into the house. So I know it was just a dream.. but a child doesn’t just dream those things because they “have a creative mind.” Right? Or could that have been all it was? A nightmare. Not a memory.. not based on a memory..
I did EMDR with 4 different therapists in the last 5 years. Little to nothing ever came from it. If anything did come up, it was just nausea and panic. Back in June, I had an EMDR session with my last trauma therapist. Before going in, I prayed that I’d see whatever I needed to see at this time/point in my journey. Then I went in for my session, and for the very first time.. I saw something. So clear. I was in my bedroom at my father’s house. I was little. A man was in there with me, another man was watching in the doorway, and there was possibly a third also in the room with another little kid. I was naked. This man in front of me was naked. There was oral r*pe. Then it cuts and now I was crawling on all fours, still naked, and this man was sitting on top of me, also still naked, “riding me” like a cowboy on a horse saying “Yee haw!” like it was a game. I was not laughing like he was though. I had no expression. I was zombie like. I was just.. gone.
There was another image that took place in that same room. I was sitting on my knees and this man was standing behind me, over my shoulders, resting his privates on my shoulder. I feel like I felt like the world was watching. But really, I feel no emotion regarding any of these images. I feel nothing at all. It feels like I got somebody else’s memories dumped into my head. I felt nothing at all during that EMDR session too, other than first being sure they were real memories…. And then quickly convincing myself they were fake.
With all the nightmares I’ve had my now, my mind has enough imagination to work with. I can’t trust anything that comes up. Especially when I feel nothing towards it. I’ll say it again… I have all these scattered puzzle pieces… so many things that could’ve happened, that I can’t trust or believe at all. I know so much, yet not enough. I know both everything, and nothing simultaneously. I don’t know what to do anymore. One moment, I know without a doubt that even if I can’t remember it, I was sexually abused at least once in some form. Then just a second later, I shame myself and don’t think anything ever happened at all. I’m a mess. I somehow managed to write so much here, and that’s still not even everything. There’s so much I haven’t even gotten into.
And I won’t here… cause this is already too much. It’s far too much, especially knowing there’s no one who can respond to this and tell me “oh yeah, you were definitely sexually abused” because no one was there, besides whoever would’ve been involved. I know that the only thing that can be said is to keep trying therapy…
But I’ve ran out of options in my area. We’ve already put in thousands of dollars into doctors and therapists who haven’t been able to help me at all. There’s literally no one here who specializes in any of this to this extent. Everyone passes me around to the next person. I’ve even gone to the hospital a couple times and they rejected me because they don’t do trauma therapy apparently and wouldn’t know how to help me. I’m so tired.. I am so, so, so tired.
Now… For the OSDD/PDID/MD part which I’ll post in a comment here..
For now, I would like to remain anonymous as I still feel crazy and I don’t trust myself; I have a lot of self doubt and I don’t want to make myself look out to be a fool!
This is going to be a long thread.. So, if you really want to join this roller coaster of a ride— BUCKLE UP. I’ve written a lot over the years, so this is going to bounce from my experience of growing up with an emotionally/mentally abusive paranoid Narc as a father, to having locked away memories, to be being certain I endured sexual abuse as a young child, to my experiences with Misophonia (a disorder that causes extreme panic, pain, and anger when triggering sounds are heard), PGAD (Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder; a pain disorder), and then to the possibility I may have either OSDD or P DID, as well as a struggle with MD (maladaptive daydreaming).
I don’t feel like rewriting everything I’ve been writing about for months to years, so I will be copying and pasting a lot of my notes to this thread.
Again, this is gonna be a ride. Don’t feel compelled to answer or read it all. If you are interested, however, I would greatly appreciate your comfort and support.
Here we go…
I don’t know where to start. I feel as though I’ve only been alive for the last five years now, and even those years have not been a life because I have been stuck in bed with such severe chronic pain, I scream my lungs out every day from how badly it hurts.
I was diagnosed with a condition called PGAD (Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder), however my symptoms do not stem from nerve damage, meds, or anything else that is known to cause PGAD. My symptoms aren’t even exactly the same as PGAD.. they’re a little different. For the last five years now, I’ve been suffering from this pain— it feels as though an invisible man is poking my cl!t 24/7. Other times, it’s even worse and it hurts so badly, I want to take a knife and cut everything out.
I also have Misophonia, and those trigger sounds, visuals, objects, and vibrations— they all trigger the pain immediately and then I’m hiding in my bed screaming from the pain. If it weren’t for God, I don’t think I’d still be here today. I often scream and cry, begging Him to take me home, but the truth is I am scared and I don’t want to die yet. I want to live. I mentioned I feel like I’ve only been alive for the last five years. Here’s why..
I am 18 right now, almost 19. Everything before the age 14 is either dark, blurry, and in third person, or completely blank and non existent. Everything before the age 11 is even more blank. I have just a couple memories from early childhood, but those are so dark, blurry and in third person. Any other pieces of my childhood that I have now, I’ve gotten from either pictures or working through therapy and also working on getting my memories back myself.
Growing up, my father had 50/50 custody of me. He was emotionally and mentally abusive (extreme paranoid narcissist). I grew up feeling like I wasn’t just his daughter, I also had to play the role of best friend, therapist, and wife. I watched many women come and go from his life, but I was his one supply source he’d never lose.
When I’d go to my mom’s (where I was totally safe) on her custody days, I’d panic and cry because “daddy can’t be lonely, he’ll be sad! He needs me!” That was my childhood and really all I really associate childhood with. When I was 12 or 13, my father ended up moving out of the state, breaking the 50/50 custody agreement. He still begged me to fly out and visit him regularly though and I never wanted to. I always made excuses as to why. “I don’t want to fly alone on a plane.” So he’d fly to me and then fly back with me. “I don’t like flying.” So one time, he drove all the way across states to pick me up. “It just makes me really anxious.”
He’d emotionally manipulate me and gaslight me until I gave in and visited him. I ran out of excuses. I’d go when he’d tell me. (Honestly, it took years to even admit to myself that I didn’t want to be near him). Then finally… A couple months before I turned 14, I flew out to visit him. A couple days after I got there, we drove from there out a couple states to visit my grandparents on his side. I hadn’t been there in maybe 4 years prior?.. I was very happy to see my family there as it had been so long. But then the second night of us staying at my grandparents, I had a nightmare that I was r*ped. It wasn’t even a graphic dream and from an outside perspective, it probably wouldn’t even look like r*pe. But somehow, even having little to no understanding of sex or r*pe and no interest in the thought of sex prior to this nightmare, I woke up and just knew “I was r*ped in that dream.” Again, I didn’t even understand that concept prior to that dream. And somehow after having that dream, I completely understood what r*pe was, what it looked like, what it felt like, what grooming and molestation looked like and felt like— everything. There was this voice within me SCREAMING “this happened to me in real life” and I could not ignore it, but I also couldn’t believe it.
For the next year, I became completely obsessed with the idea of— not sex— but r*pe. Nightmares of r*pe became regular. Extremely intense daydreams of r*pe took over my life. I LIVED in my head. On top of all this, my PGAD symptoms appeared around puberty and this trip I had with my father and grandparents was within the same half a year as my first menstrual cycle.
As months went on, my physical pain symptoms worsened. I went on to have exams upon exams, MRIs, an x-ray, a sonogram— the doctors could find nothing else that could be causing my symptoms. But I had and still have all these signs and symptoms of sexual abuse.
Again, I hardly have any memory of anything up until the age 14– really up until that trip and I had that nightmare. Like I said, I feel like I’ve only been alive since then. Like that nightmare and that trip “put away” past me and “woke up” the me that has been alive since! I feel like a version of me lived and died at the age 6, then a new me from then lived and died at maybe 11.
Then a new me lived from 11 to right before I turned 14 and she died with that trip and nightmare. I’ve been here ever since, and I know that I know I was sexually abused at some point, I just don’t have the memory. I have been working so hard on trying to reconnect with these “versions of me” that have “died off” so that I can work my way to remembering my life, or at least what happened.
I cut off my relationship with my father back in January by the way.. whether he sexually abused me or not, he was still emotionally and mentally abusive. I have so many random “puzzle pieces” that once correctly sorted can tell me exactly what happened, but there are a few problems… One, I have no idea where these pieces belong. Some of them don’t even look or feel like they belong in the same puzzle! What if there are multiple puzzles (multiple sexual abuse events)?? (Which is what my gut tells me, but) How do I know?? Because some pieces start to click together and tell me it happened with my father…
Then some pieces tell me it happened with an adult male friend of his he invited over a couple times that I have zero memory of… Then some other pieces tell me it was BOTH of them… And then some other pieces tell me the county fair is involved.. some tell me there were multiple YOUNG men… and then finally, there’s this handful of pieces that I cannot allow myself to believe are real, because when it pieces together, they create this picture or story that I was a victim in child sex trafficking, alongside at least one other kid, and I can’t believe for a SECOND that that is even possible!!! My parents had 50/50 custody, plus, I went to elementary school up until 4th grade. SOMEONE had to have seen SOMETHING. And I know without a doubt my mom and family would have spoken up if they noticed anything off. They were always aware of the emotional/mental aspect, and did what they could for me through that. But if these scattered puzzle pieces I have, put together this incredibly insane scenario… how would no one have noticed??
The second side to this all is that growing up, my father gaslit me insanely. That’s my father’s first language. And now.. I gaslight myself. I really, really can’t trust myself. I’m so very visually creative; what if my nightmares mean nothing? Sure, I had no idea of sex or r*pe at 13, let alone at 6/7 (I had an SA-type nightmare then too), but I’m creative! My mind could’ve made it up! Or… what if I just LIKE the idea of being a victim? What if I was just born with a wicked and disgusting desire to be victimized and dominated? I felt these feelings literally all my life— I have one memory from when I was only 4 years old and in preschool.
It was Halloween and I was dressed as a kitten. The other kids and I were playing a game where they tried to catch me to make me into their “stew.” I remember this from third person.. I wanted to just go limp and let them grab me and drag me away like a ragdoll; like I was just a lifeless object. I wanted them to drag me and control me and scare me and hurt me.
What kind of 4 year old thinks or feels that way???? Was I just born a total psychopath?? Or was I just born a sl*t??? I’ve never been sexually active. I believe sex should be saved for marriage.
But if it weren’t for my family (moms side) and God being so faithful in my life, I fear I would’ve put myself in a dangerous and vulnerable situation a long time ago now.. Because I often feel like I’m only good for sex. I feel like a stray dog without its master, and now I’m worthless and I’m nothing. I’m nothing without my master.
The painful PGAD-type symptoms I experience chronically feel like they were created in me intentionally. It feels like at some point in a life I don’t remember, a man groomed and molested me in such a way that my little body would be stimulated in ways it was too early for, and then he’d touch me to relieve the painful sensations he intentionally stimulated, but then he’d pull back, leaving my little body feeling this pain that was awoken and then never fully relieved. And then he’d do it again, but then provide a little less relief each time before pulling away. Until finally, he’s created this torment with my body— this addiction.
He made it so that my body would NEED him to touch it in order to be relieved of the pain he first created. I don’t know why I think I know that. That didn’t come from any outside source. I never read anything like that, I never heard of anything like that— That all came from this voice inside me that just knows.
Somehow I just have the knowledge of that very specific grooming method. Is that a real grooming method?? I know that I know, yet I still don’t trust myself or fully believe myself.
Anyway.. I think that whenever I repressed the memory of the abuse or trauma (If this abuse really DID occur), the monster of symptoms or “addiction” he created in my body must’ve gotten repressed too. And I think that once I hit puberty, those symptoms “unpaused” and started up again.
Only now, whoever initially did it to me is no longer here to relive the pain or feed the monster he created. The pain gets so bad, I hate it but this part of me inside cries and begs that sexual abuse will happen “again” (if it ever happened at all) so that I’ll be relieved of this. No doctor or therapist has been able to reverse yet, and I think progress isn’t being made because I still can’t trust or believe myself that any sexual abuse happened to begin with.
Now I’m stuck with this pain literally 24/7, at all times it feels like I’m being poked in the cl!t and I scream and I cry and I’m just so scared that I’ll never get to live again. I’m so scared that I’ll be stuck like this for the rest of my life. I had dreams and desires. I wanted to get married and have a godly marriage and be a wife, homemaker, and mother. But I’m terrified!!
I can’t even look men in the eyes. Even the guy I loved and wanted to have a future with. I was petrified in his presence and I fear that men who show any interest in me only see me as an object, toy, or plaything. I beat myself up because I live in my head replaying these scenarios of “what if this happened and I was r*ped” or “imagine one day I get kidnapped and trafficked.” I beat myself up and say “you’re sick and disgusting and wicked!! You weren’t sexually abused, you just wish you were because you have r*pe fantasies!!”
But on the other hand, I KNOW that’s not true because I am frankly TERRIFIED at the idea of men even having any interest in me. They’re not r*pe fantasies— that is the LAST thing I want!! I’m so afraid! I can’t even look men in the eyes!! But then how come I can’t stop imagining being r*ped over and over and over as though I like it and want it to happen? And why when I was 4 did I like it when the other preschool kids dragged me in that game and I went limp like a ragdoll? And why did I used to vividly imagine wolves grabbing my limbs, ripping them off my body, and eating me alive until it made my privates physically hurt when I was little? Why why why am I dealing with any of this?? And the biggest why— WHY can’t I just REMEMBER whatever maybe happened if I WANT to remember? I’ve been trying so hard to remember… I mean, again… after pushing and working so hard, I have these scattered pieces, but they’re either too blurry or too out of the realm of possibilities. There’s no way I was trafficked! There’s no way there was more than one man! There’s no way there was another little kid that suffered alongside me at one point! There’s no way that little boy also died during that time! There is just NO WAY.
I’m losing my mind!! And I hate myself. I hate myself that I’m so blind and I hate myself for not believing myself and I hate myself for the “r*pe fantasies” and I hate myself for being afraid of men, especially those who care about me, and I hate myself for ever opening this can of worms to begin with. When I woke up from that nightmare 5 years ago, I should’ve repressed that too….. Wow. I must be really messed up.. how can I say I should’ve “repressed that too” when I’ve declared a million times in the last year alone that “all I want is to remember/know what happened to me.”
I’m shattered and scattered; divided even within my own self. I’ve been to 6 therapists (including trauma therapists) in these last 5 years and they all end up saying “you need more help then what I can provide” and then pass me around like it’s a game of hot potato and I am the potato. I don’t know where to go from here, honestly. I’ve spent these last few years so determined to figure out the truth and never give up… but I’ve now reached the point that I wish I could go back and somehow either not have had that nightmare, not have gone on that trip, or just forgotten that nightmare… but something tells me that it would’ve come out one way or another. If not that trip; if not that nightmare, it still would’ve reached me somehow. Not to mention, the PGAD-type symptoms.
I guess this was bound to happen. I was bound to end up here, stuck in bed screaming in pain, my desires for my future crushed. If what happened, happened.. and he did it.. whoever “he is,” whether it was my father, his friend, a group of teens, or all of them separate or combined… He broke me. They all broke me. They ripped me open and gutted me and tore me apart. Then I put on some nice clothes and a mask and I covered it all up.
It worked for a few years. I survived. And then suddenly, that cover up started to fall apart. Not enough though. I don’t know how, but somehow I’ve managed to cling on to whatever is left of my mask and cover up claiming “I want the truth out!!” but still withholding it somehow. I don’t know how. I really do want to remember. Why can’t I? What am I doing wrong, what’s stopping me from remembering? Is it because I won’t believe or trust myself? How can I believe something that has no proof or that I have no memory of? What if my signs and symptoms are just symptoms of my OCD or Autism, or what if I’m psychotic, or what if I really was just born a sick little sl*t with a wicked and sick love for r*pe fantasies? I recall having this terrible nightmare when I was around 7 years old. I remember the dreams I had throughout my entire life more than I remember my actual life. In this nightmare, I “woke up” in the night and slowly crawled out of my bed and headed for my door which was wide open and the hall light was on. But before I could make it to the doorway, I was grabbed from behind. Two unidentifiable young men grabbed me and started tossing me back and fourth between each other like a ragdoll. I didn’t fight it. I shut down; dissociated. I just let them throw me around. Somehow at some point I was stripped naked. At some point, they started forcefully shoving my face and mouth into their naked rear ends and their laughs surrounded me and the room was filled with this green smoke and they said “breathe in it” and laughed some more. This was the scariest nightmare I’ve ever had. So scary and traumatic, I dissociated IN the dream. I didn’t know that was even possible. To be honest.. I’d consider the possibility of this maybe being an actual memory of real life and it not actually being a dream.. But this dream took place in my room at my mom’s house, where I was safest. And there’s no way two young men appeared in that room in the night and filled it with green smoke and threw me around, reeking havoc and being as loud as they were, without waking anyone up. There’s no way two young men could’ve even gotten into the house. So I know it was just a dream.. but a child doesn’t just dream those things because they “have a creative mind.” Right? Or could that have been all it was? A nightmare. Not a memory.. not based on a memory..
I did EMDR with 4 different therapists in the last 5 years. Little to nothing ever came from it. If anything did come up, it was just nausea and panic. Back in June, I had an EMDR session with my last trauma therapist. Before going in, I prayed that I’d see whatever I needed to see at this time/point in my journey. Then I went in for my session, and for the very first time.. I saw something. So clear. I was in my bedroom at my father’s house. I was little. A man was in there with me, another man was watching in the doorway, and there was possibly a third also in the room with another little kid. I was naked. This man in front of me was naked. There was oral r*pe. Then it cuts and now I was crawling on all fours, still naked, and this man was sitting on top of me, also still naked, “riding me” like a cowboy on a horse saying “Yee haw!” like it was a game. I was not laughing like he was though. I had no expression. I was zombie like. I was just.. gone.
There was another image that took place in that same room. I was sitting on my knees and this man was standing behind me, over my shoulders, resting his privates on my shoulder. I feel like I felt like the world was watching. But really, I feel no emotion regarding any of these images. I feel nothing at all. It feels like I got somebody else’s memories dumped into my head. I felt nothing at all during that EMDR session too, other than first being sure they were real memories…. And then quickly convincing myself they were fake.
With all the nightmares I’ve had my now, my mind has enough imagination to work with. I can’t trust anything that comes up. Especially when I feel nothing towards it. I’ll say it again… I have all these scattered puzzle pieces… so many things that could’ve happened, that I can’t trust or believe at all. I know so much, yet not enough. I know both everything, and nothing simultaneously. I don’t know what to do anymore. One moment, I know without a doubt that even if I can’t remember it, I was sexually abused at least once in some form. Then just a second later, I shame myself and don’t think anything ever happened at all. I’m a mess. I somehow managed to write so much here, and that’s still not even everything. There’s so much I haven’t even gotten into.
And I won’t here… cause this is already too much. It’s far too much, especially knowing there’s no one who can respond to this and tell me “oh yeah, you were definitely sexually abused” because no one was there, besides whoever would’ve been involved. I know that the only thing that can be said is to keep trying therapy…
But I’ve ran out of options in my area. We’ve already put in thousands of dollars into doctors and therapists who haven’t been able to help me at all. There’s literally no one here who specializes in any of this to this extent. Everyone passes me around to the next person. I’ve even gone to the hospital a couple times and they rejected me because they don’t do trauma therapy apparently and wouldn’t know how to help me. I’m so tired.. I am so, so, so tired.
Now… For the OSDD/PDID/MD part which I’ll post in a comment here..
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