Hello, all. I don't really know what I'm doing here exactly; I suppose it was loneliness that brought me here, or hope that someone might understand. Heck, I know someone at least has to get the vague idea of it... I also apologize for being long-winded and possibly wandering off track; I'm scatter-brained, to say the least.
For starters, I'm 21 years old. I have PTSD and severe anxiety/depression, issues with eating disorders, and Fibromyalgia.
I survived severe childhood abuse; of a sexual, physical, and emotional nature.
By the time I was 15, it had escalated a lot. I began drinking heavily and abusing pain medications. By 16, I got my GED (I was part of the top 11 percent that year - unfortunately, no one cares about the top 11, only the top 10. Haha!) and I became homeless.
I hopped from one house to another over the years, meeting folks here and there willing to let me stay. I had some "adopted siblings" from similar positions who helped me away from the drug scene. Each time it ended the same way, though. After a couple weeks I was too much of a burden, too costly; one "friend" even thought I was trying to seduce her husband.
The most traumatizing time was when I met a man who was particularly psychotic; no matter what happens, I will say that my willingness to see the good in anyone will probably be the death of me.
I thought I was in love with this man. He gave me a "home," which turned into a prison. I wasn't allowed to leave, for weeks at a time. "Friends," that turned out to be his other lovers he was parading in front of me. "Work" which turned into supporting his (very expertly hidden, I must add) drug habit.
I haven't got any evidence, but I'm 99.9% sure I was also being given drugs without my knowledge. An old friend told me just the other day that he tried to molest her early on in our "relationship," while I was right there, literally next to them on the couch, asleep. I'm still not quite sure how to feel about that revelation. Much less do I know if there's anything I could do about it.
When I met my husband, after a couple equally depressing years from then, it seemed to be so much better. I was so incredibly happy just to have my own bed to sleep in, without worrying about who would be trying to sneak into it. I could eat without worrying about being beaten over it. I thought it was a little weird to live with him and my now mother-in-law (plus my brother-in-law and.... Larry. Larry is a whole different story I don't even wanna get into right now.) but comparatively... Well, it wasn't the weirdest I'd seen.
I really did try to like his family, at first. Then I started to hear my mother-in-law saying less than kind things through the walls. Not much at first, but eventually it became constant.
My "favorite," was when I heard my mother was in the hospital, and I asked her for a ride. (I never really had the time/funds to get a license or a car, if you can imagine.)
I felt particularly bad, as it was my brother-in-law's early birthday party.
She told me, "Oh sure honey! No problem!" Then, she walked around the corner, not five feet away from me, and said to my brother-in-law, "I'm sorry we have to leave early," to which he replied, "It's okay, I don't mind." (I genuinely believe he did not; he's a really laid back guy.) But she decided to raise her voice above her usual speaking volume and say, "No, it's really not." That was one awkward car ride.
Most recently, less than a week ago, I was having worse-than-usual pain.
I have a medical marijuana card, as it's the only thing I've found that helps with my problems without intensifying some or creating new ones... And I was quite upset I had missed closing time at the dispensary. So I knocked over a small basket sitting on my dresser. (Well, it had started to fall and I decided to finish the job. Might as well get some satisfaction, rather than be more flustered by it I figured, if that makes sense.)
I then asked my husband to leave me alone for a bit, before my sour mood escalated. So he did.
As soon as he was out the front door, I hear his family shouting from the living room, "If she asked me for a ride there, I'd drive her there and leave her there!" "She's got a marijuana addiction! If she didn't, why would she turn into a raging f***ing b**** every time she was out?" I didn't know a basket on the floor equaled out to that, but alright.
Even if marijuana isn't something everyone agrees with, which I totally accept, it's the only option I've been given that has made a difference to me... All I wanted was to not feel like I was frequently being stabbed by pens, or walk without feeling needles up my legs, not to mention maintain the ability to keep certain events from replaying in my head. And dang it, I'm not hurting anyone, and I have no desire to self-harm when I'm using it. I feel like that's the most important part. If you don't agree, eh. I don't mind. But you're not my mother-in-law.
Anyway. I went into, "Hostile environment/Time to jet," mode and I ran.
She added a nice "I would have helped you out had you come and asked me!" as I scurried out the door. (Nevermind that I was having issues with chronic pain, and my husband went to ask for exactly that moments before. Plus that "raging b****" thing.) Luckily, my husband had seen me leaving on his way back from the store and followed me.
His mother brought up the idea of a "family meeting," afterward, (through text messages to my husband; never a word to me) but I feel like it's a complete and total farce. For one, because only one "family meeting" ever happened of the many she has mentioned. By many, I mean at least a dozen different instances. For twosies, that one time turned into a lecture about how I'm not a good wife to her son and I give him too many reasons to be stressed out. (To clarify, the discussion was supposed to be about my husband having issues with drinking his problems away and how I didn't like that they were enabling him still. That has since been rectified, no thanks to her.) That was the only time she ever said any issue she had with me to my face, and she never really said anything specific.
Which brought me here!
To sum it up, I wake up every day disappointed I didn't somehow die in my sleep. Distraught by the idea that I have to interact with people who clearly do not enjoy my presence, not to mention that I'm totally dependent on them in every way. To be back to feeling guilty for eating, sleeping, or downright existing... I've started to feel like this will happen to me no matter where I go. I'll always be the odd one out, and a burden to boot.
I can hardly leave the house anymore because of it. By the end of the day I find myself hoping that it'll magically be the night the great-aunt I never knew leaves me her fortune, or the option I mentioned previously. (After a few tries at speeding along the process not working out, I've decided it's just not in the cards, for me.)
As much as I've tried to talk to my husband about it, he shuts down every time and will avoid me for days afterward. I can't deal with that, on top of the rest.
But here, in a rare moment of clarity, I found this place. I've never been very receptive to therapy (by that I mean I hate it), so I'm hoping I'll get something more out of "real people," or at least someone who kind of "gets it."
Maybe just using text instead of verbal communication is the key; who knows!
I've re-read this pretty much thirty-million times, and it only gets longer. Procrastination, indeed...
So, thank you for reading this. If you've made it all the way through, you deserve a dang medal; and I apologize for anything that doesn't make much sense!
For starters, I'm 21 years old. I have PTSD and severe anxiety/depression, issues with eating disorders, and Fibromyalgia.
I survived severe childhood abuse; of a sexual, physical, and emotional nature.
By the time I was 15, it had escalated a lot. I began drinking heavily and abusing pain medications. By 16, I got my GED (I was part of the top 11 percent that year - unfortunately, no one cares about the top 11, only the top 10. Haha!) and I became homeless.
I hopped from one house to another over the years, meeting folks here and there willing to let me stay. I had some "adopted siblings" from similar positions who helped me away from the drug scene. Each time it ended the same way, though. After a couple weeks I was too much of a burden, too costly; one "friend" even thought I was trying to seduce her husband.
The most traumatizing time was when I met a man who was particularly psychotic; no matter what happens, I will say that my willingness to see the good in anyone will probably be the death of me.
I thought I was in love with this man. He gave me a "home," which turned into a prison. I wasn't allowed to leave, for weeks at a time. "Friends," that turned out to be his other lovers he was parading in front of me. "Work" which turned into supporting his (very expertly hidden, I must add) drug habit.
I haven't got any evidence, but I'm 99.9% sure I was also being given drugs without my knowledge. An old friend told me just the other day that he tried to molest her early on in our "relationship," while I was right there, literally next to them on the couch, asleep. I'm still not quite sure how to feel about that revelation. Much less do I know if there's anything I could do about it.
When I met my husband, after a couple equally depressing years from then, it seemed to be so much better. I was so incredibly happy just to have my own bed to sleep in, without worrying about who would be trying to sneak into it. I could eat without worrying about being beaten over it. I thought it was a little weird to live with him and my now mother-in-law (plus my brother-in-law and.... Larry. Larry is a whole different story I don't even wanna get into right now.) but comparatively... Well, it wasn't the weirdest I'd seen.
I really did try to like his family, at first. Then I started to hear my mother-in-law saying less than kind things through the walls. Not much at first, but eventually it became constant.
My "favorite," was when I heard my mother was in the hospital, and I asked her for a ride. (I never really had the time/funds to get a license or a car, if you can imagine.)
I felt particularly bad, as it was my brother-in-law's early birthday party.
She told me, "Oh sure honey! No problem!" Then, she walked around the corner, not five feet away from me, and said to my brother-in-law, "I'm sorry we have to leave early," to which he replied, "It's okay, I don't mind." (I genuinely believe he did not; he's a really laid back guy.) But she decided to raise her voice above her usual speaking volume and say, "No, it's really not." That was one awkward car ride.
Most recently, less than a week ago, I was having worse-than-usual pain.
I have a medical marijuana card, as it's the only thing I've found that helps with my problems without intensifying some or creating new ones... And I was quite upset I had missed closing time at the dispensary. So I knocked over a small basket sitting on my dresser. (Well, it had started to fall and I decided to finish the job. Might as well get some satisfaction, rather than be more flustered by it I figured, if that makes sense.)
I then asked my husband to leave me alone for a bit, before my sour mood escalated. So he did.
As soon as he was out the front door, I hear his family shouting from the living room, "If she asked me for a ride there, I'd drive her there and leave her there!" "She's got a marijuana addiction! If she didn't, why would she turn into a raging f***ing b**** every time she was out?" I didn't know a basket on the floor equaled out to that, but alright.
Even if marijuana isn't something everyone agrees with, which I totally accept, it's the only option I've been given that has made a difference to me... All I wanted was to not feel like I was frequently being stabbed by pens, or walk without feeling needles up my legs, not to mention maintain the ability to keep certain events from replaying in my head. And dang it, I'm not hurting anyone, and I have no desire to self-harm when I'm using it. I feel like that's the most important part. If you don't agree, eh. I don't mind. But you're not my mother-in-law.
Anyway. I went into, "Hostile environment/Time to jet," mode and I ran.
She added a nice "I would have helped you out had you come and asked me!" as I scurried out the door. (Nevermind that I was having issues with chronic pain, and my husband went to ask for exactly that moments before. Plus that "raging b****" thing.) Luckily, my husband had seen me leaving on his way back from the store and followed me.
His mother brought up the idea of a "family meeting," afterward, (through text messages to my husband; never a word to me) but I feel like it's a complete and total farce. For one, because only one "family meeting" ever happened of the many she has mentioned. By many, I mean at least a dozen different instances. For twosies, that one time turned into a lecture about how I'm not a good wife to her son and I give him too many reasons to be stressed out. (To clarify, the discussion was supposed to be about my husband having issues with drinking his problems away and how I didn't like that they were enabling him still. That has since been rectified, no thanks to her.) That was the only time she ever said any issue she had with me to my face, and she never really said anything specific.
Which brought me here!
To sum it up, I wake up every day disappointed I didn't somehow die in my sleep. Distraught by the idea that I have to interact with people who clearly do not enjoy my presence, not to mention that I'm totally dependent on them in every way. To be back to feeling guilty for eating, sleeping, or downright existing... I've started to feel like this will happen to me no matter where I go. I'll always be the odd one out, and a burden to boot.
I can hardly leave the house anymore because of it. By the end of the day I find myself hoping that it'll magically be the night the great-aunt I never knew leaves me her fortune, or the option I mentioned previously. (After a few tries at speeding along the process not working out, I've decided it's just not in the cards, for me.)
As much as I've tried to talk to my husband about it, he shuts down every time and will avoid me for days afterward. I can't deal with that, on top of the rest.
But here, in a rare moment of clarity, I found this place. I've never been very receptive to therapy (by that I mean I hate it), so I'm hoping I'll get something more out of "real people," or at least someone who kind of "gets it."
Maybe just using text instead of verbal communication is the key; who knows!
I've re-read this pretty much thirty-million times, and it only gets longer. Procrastination, indeed...
So, thank you for reading this. If you've made it all the way through, you deserve a dang medal; and I apologize for anything that doesn't make much sense!
