Sufferer Chapters In My Life

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IamBecca

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Its always hard to know where to start with your introductions. My story is old, as i was only in my early teens when my "explosion" happened. My parents were good to me. I don't remember a time when I wasn't fed or unwashed. For the most part, I was happy and loved. I am the middle child. I have an older brother (+2 yrs) and a younger sister (-4 years).

CHAPTER 1 (BROTHER)
My entire life, i was picked on by my brother, it started with small attacks and got to a point where i was held up in a bathroom for hours at a time waiting for my mother to pull in. (we were latch key kids after school until about 5:30PM) We lived in a remote area and didn't have a ot of neighbors to run to. I was tormented regularly, he would pin me down and thump my sturnum, spit in my face or let the spit drip as slow as possible on my face, he would chase, hit and set me up in any way possible but at the same time, he would make sure no boys would get near me. His aggression got worse and worse and today, he lives off disability, diagnosed with bi-polar but refused to take meds regularly, has multiple domestic charges from his wife and his only son. I did attempt to tell my mom on a couple of occasions back when I was young, but she didn't believe it was anything other than sibling angst. She told me to kick him in the balls when he was mean to me but believe me, I tried to find his nuggets and to no avail. He was always stronger and angrier. I can only remember the full on attacks later in my teenage years. I attempted suicide for the first time so my parents would finally see the extent of his behavior. My sister and I don't have much memory of my brother when we were younger. She was not tormented, he started and ended with me, she was always treated with love and kindness but she remembers my torment. (she had enough sense to hide when it got really bad).

All my life, I’ve had things taken from me. I was helpless and “taken” and there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t start to see a counselor until the past 6 months. (I’m 45) I’ve tried in the past but none were helpful or ready to face all my baggage. My brother has tried to commit suicide, been into rehab, lives off disability and my mom still, today, pressures me about taking care of my brother when she is gone. She doesn’t realize what she’s asking and my counselor wants me to tell her my experience with my brother even though I have tried to when I was young. Im having a hard time with this because I don’t want to bring up the past or make her feel like it was somehow her fault but the counselor thinks that she has a misperception of how “siblings” are supposed to act too because her brothers were mean and aggressive towards her.


CHAPTER 2 (SCHOOL JANITOR)
I went to a catholic grade school, my brother was always getting into trouble and I saw him get disciplined many times by teachers what would say he was out of control. My seventh grade year, I was sexually abused by the janitor of our little school. He, over the years, would move from hugging to groping and pinching and more. This was going on when my brother was fighting with me every night by then. Our janitor was an old man, who nobody would have ever expected. He was always kind, very kind, to the girls with hugs and such. It got to a point where I couldn't go out into the halls when classes were in session even for a drink or to go to the bathroom because he was out there, roaming the halls, and would stop you to hug you when he got the chance. Like most young girls i didn't tell a soul > one night, I was telling my younger sister to stay away from him and not to give him any time of day, long story short: she told my mom and when my mom brought it to the school's attention, we had a small meeting with all of the 7th and 8th grade girls, we found that there was only ONE, that claimed he didn't touch them. By this time, I was in 8th grade and I had been groomed for a second year. The RESULT: nothing was ever talked about again, after the initial meeting, the janitor "retired" that year and I moved onto high school.

PS. The janitor’s son was our teacher and requested after our 7th grade year, to have us again throughout our 8th grade year, I don’t know if that had something to do with “it” or not. The son went on to be a priest and moved away from my state.


CHAPTER 3 (SUICIDE)
Meanwhile, that summer, my father had been showing signs of depression, his father committed suicide when he was 22 and my father used the same gun when he took his own life (circa 1985). My father died when i was 14, I don't know if he knew about my abuse (brother or janitor). He shot himself when my sister and I were home alone, I saw him leave with a gun in his hand and said to my girlfriend on the phone, that he must be going squirrel hunting. I heard the gun shot later and again mentioned that dad must have gotten something. He chose to take his life in the area that my sister and I were cleaning up for a club house. My little sister found his body. She was only 9-10 years old. My 16 year old brother was immediately told he needed to be the “man of the family”. I made the 911 call and took part in the decision to have an open casket and where and how to bury him, I do not know why.. THIS WAS MY EXPLOSION. I attempted suicide for the second time here. I wanted so badly to be with dad. Thereafter, my brother got so bad that he started fighting with my mom and was eventually told to go stay with my grandmother.


CHAPTER 4 (DATE RAPE)
My family noticed all of our friends stopped coming around, I’m sure it was because they didn’t know what to say. My dad was always the bright star in the room, he had many people who loved him and wanted to be around him. We were now tainted and nobody knew how to help. My mom tried to get us some therapy but to no avail. We were all left to go on with our lives and forget about this tragedy. I tried to make the best of my new surroundings in high school. I found a boyfriend that ended up date raping me. He took away the only thing I had to myself. I’ve wrestled with myself on this one because we were dating and I continued to date him after because i didn’t know any better. I said no, I tried to push him off me, but he prevailed. After this, I had issues with myself. I felt like I was a dirty girl and now there is nothing special about me.


CHAPTER 5 (CANCER)
My counselor also thinks this tragedy is huge too> My daughter, at age 10 (2005), was diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer. She was brought to the doctor with a huge goiter, at least three tests were taken and showed the mass to be benign. The doctors scheduled surgery and removed it, upon doing this a biopsy of the goiter was performed and they found Follicular Thyroid Cancer and she had to be taken back to the hospital to remove the rest of the thyroid after only two weeks of recovery. As a parent, my husband and I, chose not to tell her she had to go back to have the second surgery until the very morning of. I didn’t want my 10 year old to have to worry about it for a long time before she had to go “do it all over again”.


CHAPTER 6 (BREAKDOWN)
In 2010, my body started to shut down in ways that I didn’t understand. I was in constant pain, I was massively depressed and could only sleep but found myself having insomnia. I began seeing doctors who all had a perfect combination of meds to make me feel better. My diagnosis have been fibromyalgia, maybe MS, and a number of others which kept me on meds. In 2012-2014, I started to shut down again. This time I was poked, prodded, and had multiple test performed only to bring my neurologist to think I had Multifocal Motor Neuropathy, which is rare, so we went up to the MAYO clinic in MN for a week to perform tests. I left the clinic with only one finding: I was manic depressive(at least one suicide attempt in here too) . My faith in the system, and in medications is gone now. I eventually pulled myself off of all meds and today, I take nothing. I am just dealing now. Dealing with my tormented life, and reminding myself how strong I am now and have become. Its been a long battle and for most of my life, I’ve walked alone - but I’m not done fighting; my story isn’t over.


Well, this took a lot out of me but I hope some background will help you all know my struggles.

Thanks for your time.
 

watundah

MyPTSD Pro
Goodness. I am so sorry that you have endured so much and like many of us here, you have incredible strength. Never forget that the worst is in the past and you no longer live there. I'm glad that you see that we can continue writing a new and better story. Sending you the best.

My brother was a shit, too, and there seems to be an expectation that being mean to sisters is just a given vs seeing a line is crossed and we're being abused.
 
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