Ghostybear73
Diamond Member
This is what my therapist calls learning to be emotionally vulnerable. Throw myself out there in hopes that if I start talking, I will start feeling. I don't remember much of my life before nine. I know some of what mom thinks is funny and tells people. I know I was kicked out of the car on the freeway when I was 5 because I called my mom a name. I guess the funny part was me chasing the car screaming. She came back for me a couple hours later.
I remember my brother and his friends locking me in the car with them and smoking enough pot to get me high and dumping me out in the middle of nowhere. Nobody came back for me. I have no emotions other than anger. I do not cry, not because it is a sign of weakness for me, but because it is a sign of weakness for others. If I cried when I was younger, my brothers would beat the shit out of my.
My mother manufactured drugs so there were a lot of drug dealers, gangs and random other people around the house. As I got older, I could not cry because the people my mom let have me would make my life much worse. Everything was more intense, objects being used in the rape, getting burned with a cigarette or getting cut. 30-35 years ago there was no saving grace. Besides as a top manufacturer, my mother was feared. Nobody crossed her, even a stranger.
I can't wear anything around my wrists, ankles, I freak over needles (although I'm doing better with those), my car window has to be open even when it's raining. I haven't really slept in a while. I was taking meds to knock out the dreams, but they caused me to sleepwalk. I talked to the psychiatrist recently and told him I decided dreaming about someone in a rage catching me and cutting my arm off with the serrated part of a knife was better than almost burning the house down in my sleep, so I don’t take those meds anymore.
Every night is a struggle. I was drugged, raped and beaten from the age of 9 to 13/14. My brother made numerous attempts to kill me. Starting at around 9, my mother started selling me out pretty regularly. My mom left me at 15 and I started the phase 2 of my life…on the streets.
Phase 2-4 (which I will discuss in time) were just as bad…I have made one bad decision after the other. Between packing my son up and moving him across country over and over again, I found myself constantly struggling with just supporting my child both physically and mentally, I was always putting him I in bad positions.
I'm in part 5. I am 40 years old and have stopped running. I have an MBA with a concentration in healthcare mgmt, a bachelor of science in criminal justice, more titles than u can put on a card. I have a house, 2 cars, a daughter, a good man and now…now, I'm spending the majority of my days thinking of suicide. Now that I am at a place where I feel safe and have become extremely successful, all the past has reared its ugly head and I am suffering from numerous issues, primarily PTSD.
I remember my brother and his friends locking me in the car with them and smoking enough pot to get me high and dumping me out in the middle of nowhere. Nobody came back for me. I have no emotions other than anger. I do not cry, not because it is a sign of weakness for me, but because it is a sign of weakness for others. If I cried when I was younger, my brothers would beat the shit out of my.
My mother manufactured drugs so there were a lot of drug dealers, gangs and random other people around the house. As I got older, I could not cry because the people my mom let have me would make my life much worse. Everything was more intense, objects being used in the rape, getting burned with a cigarette or getting cut. 30-35 years ago there was no saving grace. Besides as a top manufacturer, my mother was feared. Nobody crossed her, even a stranger.
I can't wear anything around my wrists, ankles, I freak over needles (although I'm doing better with those), my car window has to be open even when it's raining. I haven't really slept in a while. I was taking meds to knock out the dreams, but they caused me to sleepwalk. I talked to the psychiatrist recently and told him I decided dreaming about someone in a rage catching me and cutting my arm off with the serrated part of a knife was better than almost burning the house down in my sleep, so I don’t take those meds anymore.
Every night is a struggle. I was drugged, raped and beaten from the age of 9 to 13/14. My brother made numerous attempts to kill me. Starting at around 9, my mother started selling me out pretty regularly. My mom left me at 15 and I started the phase 2 of my life…on the streets.
Phase 2-4 (which I will discuss in time) were just as bad…I have made one bad decision after the other. Between packing my son up and moving him across country over and over again, I found myself constantly struggling with just supporting my child both physically and mentally, I was always putting him I in bad positions.
I'm in part 5. I am 40 years old and have stopped running. I have an MBA with a concentration in healthcare mgmt, a bachelor of science in criminal justice, more titles than u can put on a card. I have a house, 2 cars, a daughter, a good man and now…now, I'm spending the majority of my days thinking of suicide. Now that I am at a place where I feel safe and have become extremely successful, all the past has reared its ugly head and I am suffering from numerous issues, primarily PTSD.
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