At 17, my father and I lived in my grandmother’s house. He paid no rent and filled it with hoarded filth — mold, cat piss, broken everything. The house couldn’t be sold.
My grandmother offered me a deal:
If I cleaned and repaired the house, she’d kick my father out and let me live there.
I worked like my life depended on it. I can’t begin to describe how happy I was at the idea of having a home not just a house I live in. I taught myself plumbing, electrical work, drywall, mold remediation. I hauled out mountains of trash. I turned a condemned house into something livable.
If you’ve ever watched the show hoarders, then you know what my house look like it looked exactly like their houses
When my father realized I was going to get the house, he snapped.
He restricted my access to food. And took my phone away.
This was during COVID. Friends who helped me were gradually convinced I was dangerous. One by one, people stopped feeding me. Even leaving food outside became “too risky.”
I starved.
When that didn’t break me fast enough, my father took my phone and threatened to send me to prison if I contacted anyone. I believed him.
I had one hope left: my grandmother.
She knew I was starving. She told me to keep cleaning.
This is important, because I was being abused and I wanted it to stop more than anything. She told me in order to stop the abuse I needed to clean so I dropped out of school temporarily just so I could clean the house. I worked every second of every day cleaning. I had a 3.5 GPA prior to this so I knew I could afford to miss school as long as I came back for the finals. But realistically, the abuse had me not focusing on my future and simply focusing on getting him away from me.
I finished the house. Through the starvation and calorie restriction, the beatings, the constant, emotional abuse. He was always calling me retarded and stupid, and saying every reason why he didn’t love me. He would scream it so loud in my face that there would be spit droplets covering my face when he was done yelling at me. I got weaker with Hunger. and he got stronger with steroids. Towards the end. I remember he crushed a saltine cracker on the floor and shove my face into the floor and made me eat it off the floor licking up the crumbs.
She didn’t answer my messages.
Rather than kicking him out, she just ignored meFor months, I survived on nearly expired cans of soup from her pantry. she didn’t kick him out, but she would send me expired cans of soup. just enough calories to stay alive, no real nutrition. My body didn’t just weaken; my mind did. I lost coordination. I couldn’t form new memories. I watched my intelligence drain away and couldn’t stop it
I lost thirty pounds in less than a month. People complimented me because they thought it was intentional. I think Covid changed everyone’s mindset about reality and everyone just became more self-centered and not an evil way just in a that’s the way it happened kind of way. They were afraid of Covid.
Two weeks before finals, my grandmother finally kicked my father out.
As soon as she kicked him out, I started going back to school. I started frantically catching up on everything. My intelligence kind of started to return not strongly but a little bit enough to finish high school with a 2.5 GPA. I didn’t care about college at this point. I just wanted survival
One week later, she told me I had to get out,
A realtor was coming
She had never intended to let me stay.
She gave the reasoning that it was because I let my grades go
Can you f*cking believe that??
I don’t remember much after that. I graduated somehow. At my graduation, I heard each person’s name get called, followed by cheering and clapping. When my name was called, it was complete silence. None of my family showed up. I was actually happy that they didn’t.
As an adult, I kept getting fired. Anxiety and shutdown followed me everywhere.
I realized i couldn’t have a stable job and I don’t have anyone else. so I had to move in with my grandmother.
At her house.
I moved into her basement with mice that keep me up at night from how many there are.
I went from being promised a house to being shown a dirty gross basement that was filled with trash that had to be cleaned. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I never got any more than a single basement room. I suppose it’s just kind of like adding insult to injury. It was basically like her saying, clean it slave. you can actually keep this one.
I had to stay. It was my grandmother‘s basement, which I felt entitled to at the very least. I hate her more than you can possibly imagine but she isn’t the trauma trigger like my father is. She’s just a necessary catalyst for my CPTSD existing. She created it but wasn’t the active abuser so I was able to live with her and just not love her in anyway.
Ironically I started this whole thing trying to fight my father to be different than him and provide something for myself that he never provided me. And now I live in my grandma’s basement not paying any f*cking rent. Living with someone I hate. I tried to fight my father tooth and nail.
just to end up like him. Mooching off my grandma and paying nothing.
I am so ashamed and embarrassed at who I am and what I’ve become.I don’t pay her because I f*cking hate her. For lying to me and for breaking me. I still feel like a loser about it. To be crystal clear it’s not because I didn’t pay her. but because I live with a person, I f*cking hate. It’s not an attractive look. Especially when I’m a young man and she’s an old woman.
Over time, I rebuilt slowly, carefully.
I started working out every day. I got big muscles. I was happy finally
I was extremely close to moving out. I have $15,000 saved up.
Then I saw my father again. My grandmother told me one hour before he showed up that my father would be coming to Thanksgiving.
That was all it took.
My body went back to the same place: panic, cognitive collapse, inability to eat, staring at walls for hours. Blood tests showed severe deficiencies. I make mistakes constantly. I’m about to lose my job. So I had to resign rather than getting fired. I wanna work, but I can’t.
I’m ashamed of how I’m reacting. To the simple sight and sound of him. My grandma lied to me and didn’t tell me my father would be at Thanksgiving.
She f*cking lied again, I suppose I deserve it for being a f*cking loser and living with her. The world just felt so f*cking scary.
I’m not posting this for pity or advice.
I’m posting because I want to know if anyone else has experienced this kind of shutdown where your nervous system just gives up, where your mind goes blank, where life becomes unmanageable after seeing someone who once controlled your survival.
I don’t need fixing.
I just want to know I’m not alone.
There’s so much to the story that I didn’t explain if you don’t believe me I’m happy to answer any questions or something doesn’t make sense.
Shit hasn’t been this bad since one week before finals. When my grandma said get out. My body is shutting down. It’s only been a month and it’s getting worse and worse and worse every day.
I have the money to take care of myself for a while, considering I’m not paying rent.
My grandmother offered me a deal:
If I cleaned and repaired the house, she’d kick my father out and let me live there.
I worked like my life depended on it. I can’t begin to describe how happy I was at the idea of having a home not just a house I live in. I taught myself plumbing, electrical work, drywall, mold remediation. I hauled out mountains of trash. I turned a condemned house into something livable.
If you’ve ever watched the show hoarders, then you know what my house look like it looked exactly like their houses
When my father realized I was going to get the house, he snapped.
He restricted my access to food. And took my phone away.
This was during COVID. Friends who helped me were gradually convinced I was dangerous. One by one, people stopped feeding me. Even leaving food outside became “too risky.”
I starved.
When that didn’t break me fast enough, my father took my phone and threatened to send me to prison if I contacted anyone. I believed him.
I had one hope left: my grandmother.
She knew I was starving. She told me to keep cleaning.
This is important, because I was being abused and I wanted it to stop more than anything. She told me in order to stop the abuse I needed to clean so I dropped out of school temporarily just so I could clean the house. I worked every second of every day cleaning. I had a 3.5 GPA prior to this so I knew I could afford to miss school as long as I came back for the finals. But realistically, the abuse had me not focusing on my future and simply focusing on getting him away from me.
I finished the house. Through the starvation and calorie restriction, the beatings, the constant, emotional abuse. He was always calling me retarded and stupid, and saying every reason why he didn’t love me. He would scream it so loud in my face that there would be spit droplets covering my face when he was done yelling at me. I got weaker with Hunger. and he got stronger with steroids. Towards the end. I remember he crushed a saltine cracker on the floor and shove my face into the floor and made me eat it off the floor licking up the crumbs.
She didn’t answer my messages.
Rather than kicking him out, she just ignored meFor months, I survived on nearly expired cans of soup from her pantry. she didn’t kick him out, but she would send me expired cans of soup. just enough calories to stay alive, no real nutrition. My body didn’t just weaken; my mind did. I lost coordination. I couldn’t form new memories. I watched my intelligence drain away and couldn’t stop it
I lost thirty pounds in less than a month. People complimented me because they thought it was intentional. I think Covid changed everyone’s mindset about reality and everyone just became more self-centered and not an evil way just in a that’s the way it happened kind of way. They were afraid of Covid.
Two weeks before finals, my grandmother finally kicked my father out.
As soon as she kicked him out, I started going back to school. I started frantically catching up on everything. My intelligence kind of started to return not strongly but a little bit enough to finish high school with a 2.5 GPA. I didn’t care about college at this point. I just wanted survival
One week later, she told me I had to get out,
A realtor was coming
She had never intended to let me stay.
She gave the reasoning that it was because I let my grades go
Can you f*cking believe that??
I don’t remember much after that. I graduated somehow. At my graduation, I heard each person’s name get called, followed by cheering and clapping. When my name was called, it was complete silence. None of my family showed up. I was actually happy that they didn’t.
As an adult, I kept getting fired. Anxiety and shutdown followed me everywhere.
I realized i couldn’t have a stable job and I don’t have anyone else. so I had to move in with my grandmother.
At her house.
I moved into her basement with mice that keep me up at night from how many there are.
I went from being promised a house to being shown a dirty gross basement that was filled with trash that had to be cleaned. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I never got any more than a single basement room. I suppose it’s just kind of like adding insult to injury. It was basically like her saying, clean it slave. you can actually keep this one.
I had to stay. It was my grandmother‘s basement, which I felt entitled to at the very least. I hate her more than you can possibly imagine but she isn’t the trauma trigger like my father is. She’s just a necessary catalyst for my CPTSD existing. She created it but wasn’t the active abuser so I was able to live with her and just not love her in anyway.
Ironically I started this whole thing trying to fight my father to be different than him and provide something for myself that he never provided me. And now I live in my grandma’s basement not paying any f*cking rent. Living with someone I hate. I tried to fight my father tooth and nail.
just to end up like him. Mooching off my grandma and paying nothing.
I am so ashamed and embarrassed at who I am and what I’ve become.I don’t pay her because I f*cking hate her. For lying to me and for breaking me. I still feel like a loser about it. To be crystal clear it’s not because I didn’t pay her. but because I live with a person, I f*cking hate. It’s not an attractive look. Especially when I’m a young man and she’s an old woman.
Over time, I rebuilt slowly, carefully.
I started working out every day. I got big muscles. I was happy finally
I was extremely close to moving out. I have $15,000 saved up.
Then I saw my father again. My grandmother told me one hour before he showed up that my father would be coming to Thanksgiving.
That was all it took.
My body went back to the same place: panic, cognitive collapse, inability to eat, staring at walls for hours. Blood tests showed severe deficiencies. I make mistakes constantly. I’m about to lose my job. So I had to resign rather than getting fired. I wanna work, but I can’t.
I’m ashamed of how I’m reacting. To the simple sight and sound of him. My grandma lied to me and didn’t tell me my father would be at Thanksgiving.
She f*cking lied again, I suppose I deserve it for being a f*cking loser and living with her. The world just felt so f*cking scary.
I’m not posting this for pity or advice.
I’m posting because I want to know if anyone else has experienced this kind of shutdown where your nervous system just gives up, where your mind goes blank, where life becomes unmanageable after seeing someone who once controlled your survival.
I don’t need fixing.
I just want to know I’m not alone.
There’s so much to the story that I didn’t explain if you don’t believe me I’m happy to answer any questions or something doesn’t make sense.
Shit hasn’t been this bad since one week before finals. When my grandma said get out. My body is shutting down. It’s only been a month and it’s getting worse and worse and worse every day.
I have the money to take care of myself for a while, considering I’m not paying rent.
