Does this count as trauma?

Workingonit

MyPTSD Pro
I tried to talk to my mom the other day and it went okayish. But she made comments that make me think she doesn't believe me when I tell her things. And I can't stop ruminating on it. I really don't want to hurt her so I will try writing it down here.

My abuse started young. 5 or 6. My brother was a cry bully and my mom encouraged it. On top of being held responsible for everything he did because I was older and it was my responsibility to keep him out of trouble. We are a year apart in age. It was everything if I had a toy and he wanted he would cry to mom. If he wanted to play a game and I didn't he would cry to mom. Her favorite thing was to slap me in the face but I got big fast. And very adept at dodging her blows. I still have a faded scar on my nose from her manicured nails grazing the tip and taking skin. You can barely see it but I know its there.

When I got to big for her to hurt me she put dad to the task. As you can imagine I hated my little brother for a long time. I discovered church around age 8 or 9 and gravitated there to get away until they decided i had to take him and watch him there too and then he was constantly trying to do it there. I was so embarrassed I stopped going and so did he.

When I was about 10 he filled the lawnmower gas tank up with rocks. My dad asked me if I wanted to take the spanking for him. I said no, I didn't even know about it or have anything to do with it. He didn't care but he spanked us both. He made each of us go get a switch. I chose a small one and my brother chose a big one. My dad thought he was clever and used the big one on me and the small one on him.

This is just an example to explain the kind of physical and emotional abuse I went through. Not a one off.

I broke my finger around that time. My pinky. By the time I convinced them to take me to the doctor it had already set. Its still crooked. Again this kind of neglect wasn't a one off.

I was an angry kid but I grew up fast because things got much worse. I hated my mom and her uneven treatment of us and I hated my brother for getting me beat and his manipulations. I would hit him in the arms and legs trying to get him to stop but it just made it worse and I felt so guilty, I was so young and just wanted it to stop but there was no escape.

When I was about 11 or 12 my parents split. They fought all the time. Broke things, did drugs and didn't parent us at all except my brother was babied and coddled by my mom over everything. She slept for days at a time then was up for days living the tweaker life. My dad was on the road for long periods of time doing road construction. The last thing she said the day the split was something along the lines of " get the f out and take that little bastard with you" referring to me.

We came to visit once. Dad told me to be on my best behavior or else. He was playing a video game and I wanted to play with him. We had been couch surfing for a while at this point and he refused and made a big scene and my dad stomped the shit out of me and we left. He started drinking alot but no brother, no beatings, just neglect. So it was an improvement.

About a year went by and dad left me at moms for a visit. She finally had a babysitter and was going to go out with her friends. I told her that if she left i was calling dad and would be gone by the time she got back and she would never see me again. She did the right thing. No way in hell was i going to be left alone with him. There was literally no telling what he would do.

The next time we came to visit. She was in the back room sucking D for meth? The bag of drugs was on the bed with them. I dont know if it was meth or coke. Doesnt really matter. We caught her, i saw everything. Her drug dealer took off down the road butt naked and she attacked dad when he went after him... butt naked. We took my brother and didnt see her again for about three or four years. I found out later from people she was in the wind running drugs for the cartels with her bf until they ended up on the wrong side and her bf ended up in a ditch with his throat slit. I dont know what they did to her but she survived.

We ended up running the roads because my mom told child support that she had us both and they were basing his payments off of a job he couldnt work with two kids at home. He tried to get them to stop but the government is a hammer and he was a nail and mom was mia so government does what government does best... make everything they touch exponentially worse.

Around this time my dad had a surgical steel butter knife he sharpened neurotically. He used to tell us that was what he was going to kill my moms bf with.

Both my mom and dad where culturally fruit tramps. If you dont know what a fruit tramp is just think gypsy. Basically the same thing. My dad was psychotic, violent, alcoholic. We worked alot of odd jobs, orchards mostly. He made me work, not my brother, just me. Iwas a big kid and we lied about my age or i would work under his ticket. He would take my money so he could afford alcohol. Sometimes he would let me keep some of it and give some of it to my brother so we could buy clothes. Eventually i stopped. We fought over his drinking. He started out by beating me to get me to work and when that didnt work he turned to psychological and emotional abuse. He would tell me how he had it so much worse when he was my age and how lazy i was.

Eventually we ended up in california for about 6 months living in my uncles house that was so rotted from moisture that some of the walls had rotted thru to the point where if you touched it, it would fall apart. My grandma lived with us while she died of cancer. She died in my bed.

I was suspended 3 times from school and expelled once during this time. We went to school sporadically during this time. It was hardest on my brother because he was a little monster and couldnt make friends. My dad made sure that i dealt with his "bullies". He didnt have bullies he had social problems he would start shit with people that werent me and they didnt love him like i did. Even tho i hated him i still didnt want him to get hurt. I never had to fight over him. I would always talk to them and get them to stop. I never wanted to hurt people.

It was in the locker room and i had just finished dressing. A kid came up to me and whipped his dck out and started yelling masturbator right in my face. I punched him in his stomach, he bowled over and i kneed him and he hit his head on the concrete floor. Hours later i got called to the office and put in handcuffs. Suspended. He eventually admitted to what he did. The suspension stuck, the arrest didnt. Dad was pissed and abusive i was causing him problems.

One was with a kid that was bullying me for hours on the first day of school. I told him repeatedly i didnt want to fight him and he didnt want to fight me. Eventually i agreed and waited for him after school. I hurt him real bad. Held him down and asked him if he was done. When he said no i would punch him in the back of the head and ask him again. Next time i would hit him a little harder. The principle only saw me beating on him. The cops were called charges were pressed and i was expelled. After the investigation all charges were dropped and the expulsion was overturned. It took about a week. During this time my dad beat me and emotionally abused me because he didnt believe.

The other two were similar events.

These are not the only instances it was a long half a decade i can assure you. Violence, drugs, abuse, neglect you name it. But ill skip to how i finally got "away"

We had just spent the winter in slab city california, which was a shitstorm all by its self. The harvest was starting. I was 15 or 16 at the time. We walked to a creek to go swimming with a couple of cousins and my brother was being an asshole so I played a prank on him. I shouldn't have done it but I more than payed for it. I dipped his shirt in the creek and told him I peed on it. He cried the entire way home. We all told him it wasn't pee and it was just a joke but he told dad I peed on his shirt and made him wear it. That was probably the worst beating I ever took. I waited until he left the next day for work and took off walking. I made it about 10 miles walking with my dog before dad pulled up and he told me that he would take me to my aunts.

He took both of us to my aunts. I was pissed. He couldn't be bothered to raise my brother. That was my job.

My aunts was an improvement. The first semblance of "stability" i had in a long time. They were pill popping jehovas witnesses. We lived there for about a year while my mom went to rehab.

After that we each had a choice to pick which parent to live with. Dad was going back to slab city and mom was moving to Yakima.

I made my brother choose first. It was a big stink. He chose dad so I went with mom.

I knew what was going to happen to him without me as a buffer for the beatings and emotional abuse but I didn't care. He has told me stories. Knowing them both I can only imagine it was worse than he let's on.

I lived with mom and her new boyfriend right up until I was about 17. We were arguing about something. I dont remember what. I told him to keep his hands off me and he told me I wasn't to big for an ass whoopin. I was a cocky kid. Fruit tramps fight as a past time and I was good at it. Boxing and wrestling grown men since I was about 14. He tackled me and after I dislocated his shoulder I "moved" back in with dad.

He had moved into an orchard that hired on year round employees. I worked payed for my rent in a trailer next to his and went to school. Got good grades played football for a year. Became really close with my boss. Like the dad I never had.

He was a marine and had all kinds of medals. I used to look at them when I was to tired to drive home and stayed at his house. He lived real close to school.

9/11 happened and I told him that I was going to join and we got into a huge fight. He told me that if I joined never come back to his house. So I didn't.

Dad was a prick about it so I moved back in with mom.

My second senior year came to a close and I had to talk to the counselor. 5 years of high-school with a 3.6 GPA and not enough credits to graduate. On top of gang violence. 3 cholos tried to rob me after school. I hit one the other two took off.

I dropped out, took the ged the next day and off I went to bootcamp.
 
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I volunteered for deployment. Was crossleveled into a deploying unit. Spent 3 or 4 months mobilizing and preparing to push into theater.

We got to ft Irwin California. And I was transfered again into an advanced security detail. We were a bunch of random mos's, I was a heavy wheeled diesel mechanic according to my mos. The training was rigorous. Cqb, convoy operations and alot of other things in our crash course into infantry operations. Long days, very little sleep. Our CO at the time was a LT and named our detatchment delta company.

After that we pushed into Kuwait. I think I need to stop here for awhile. I still don't remember all of it. This is where the amnesia begins. I remember alot of it. When I contacted my second Commander in theater I got alot of the memories back but not all. And at this point my memories aren't the best. I'm still working on it. Trying to recover lost memories.
 
I sent a a request to the va for decorations I received during my deployment. I got an email a couple minutes ago saying that they don't have authority to make the determination for the records requested and have referred my request to the army.

What does it mean? Was it classified? So many questions. Very little answers and nobody will tell me anything. I hate this feeling.
 
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I'm sorry, but this made me laugh. This is SO like our government!
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe this person knows."
"I don't know. Why would I know? Ask Bob."
"Check with Human Resources."
"Hey, Barb! You know anything about this?"
"Check with the Dept. Of Motor Vehicles."
 
I'm sorry, but this made me laugh. This is SO like our government!
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe this person knows."
"I don't know. Why would I know? Ask Bob."
"Check with Human Resources."
"Hey, Barb! You know anything about this?"
"Check with the Dept. Of Motor Vehicles."
I have issues with my memories. But I've contacted my co in theater. Which unlocked some memories and sent me back into full blown ptsd for weeks. I also had my va therapist contact him because after I remembered exactly who he was I couldn't bear the shame knowing I fell out after about a 11 or 12 months of a 14 month deployment.

So I know it happened and I have the rest of my dd214 confirming I was there.

I remember the flashbacks on guard duty taking over my senses. I remember crying to my squad leader begging him not to send me home.

Most of the first half is blank. I remember engaging the enemy was a regular occurrence. I remember taking rpg fire.

I asked my therapist if my captain told him anything that might help me remember and he told me that doing that was probably a bad idea.

I don't know.
 
I don't have any experience with deployment but I do have some with being near or setting off explosive/IED devices. I think it really does absolutely destroy your nervous system when it happens and introduces the most "fight or flight" adrenalized responses that we have as a species.

Being in a shoot-out was similar for me and I developed not only trauma (the real sense of "holy shit, I am about to die, oh f*ck!!!") but also an addiction to that kind of sensation. It is better than sex. I spent hours playing video games or planning robberies trying to get it back.

There is absolutely nothing on Earth that comes close to that feeling. And then you deal with the fall-out, having a completely over-sensitized nervous system whose responses to literally everything are disorganized.

It turns out it's not better at all, and then the next time it happens you're completely emotionally desensitized which translates over to real life where nothing seems to matter anymore.
 
I don't have any experience with deployment but I do have some with being near or setting off explosive/IED devices. I think it really does absolutely destroy your nervous system when it happens and introduces the most "fight or flight" adrenalized responses that we have as a species.

Being in a shoot-out was similar for me and I developed not only trauma (the real sense of "holy shit, I am about to die, oh f*ck!!!") but also an addiction to that kind of sensation. It is better than sex. I spent hours playing video games or planning robberies trying to get it back.

There is absolutely nothing on Earth that comes close to that feeling. And then you deal with the fall-out, having a completely over-sensitized nervous system whose responses to literally everything are disorganized.

It turns out it's not better at all, and then the next time it happens you're completely emotionally desensitized which translates over to real life where nothing seems to matter anymore.
I have no compulsion for violence. In the moment maybe if i feel threatened. But even in video games i always gravitated to group based mmos. When i was a kid i played shooters. I will definitely get aggressive if i feel like an authority figure isnt handling the situation fairly or if you give me no other choice. But i feel stupid and weak afterwards for getting mad. And when i do fight i get black out mad, I am terrified that ill do something i cant take back.

My first time was an rpg and small arms fire on patrol. I dont really know if it was actually my first time but its the first time i remember. We heard the ak fire and took cover behind a berm and then the rocket hit the other side of the berm a little ways down. By the time we recovered they were gone. Eventually they pushed that tree line way back with deforestation. But i remember that night seeing my squad leaders hands shaking.

Second time was in the mess hall. A mortar hit right outside shook the entire building and brought some of it down. Everyone ran outside. We kept eating. It already landed and the damage was already done. The medics were there and we would just get in the way.

Third time was way later processing iraqis. A rocket hit on the other side of the jersey barrier that surrounded the pit to protect us while we searched the civilians for weapons and explosives. We secured the civilians and took up our fighting positions. No one there

i only recovered these memories a little over a month ago so they are probably distorted so take from them what you will.

About ten years after i got back i was involved in a gang shooting as a bystandard. I was driving by. The brass hit my truck. I pulled over and called the police. I remember he looked at me and i thought to myself well i better get a little farther away. After i got out I didnt touch a gun until after that incident and then i bought lots of them.
 
will definitely get aggressive if i feel like an authority figure isnt handling the situation fairly or if you give me no other choice. But i feel stupid and weak afterwards for getting mad. And when i do fight i get black out mad, I am terrified that ill do something i cant take back.
I feel you. I was indoctrinated into an armed group/organized crime as a kid and trained to be as violent and aggressive as possible with people giving me crack and PCP and shit to make me even wilder. I did a lot of horrific shit that I've had to deprogram and I got some good therapy at Romeo Dallaire at about 16.

I definitely struggle with black out rage and horrific temper that I've worked to excise from myself over the years. Violence is unfortunately bred into me on a neurological level from childhood due to appetitive aggression. I've made a thread on here about how brainwashing can create these schisms in us even if we were otherwise rational people.

Behavioral modification therapies, Forensic Narrative Exposure and anger management does help! I use the VA's AIMS app to keep track of stuff, it feels much less condescending than other anger management programs and is geared toward adults.
 
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condescending
I struggle with this alot. Alot alot. Professionals are the worst. You can train a monkey to be a professional light bulb screwer inner but that does it make them the smartest person in the room or even correct. And condescension is usually accompanied with a dismissive attitude. Its like the one-two punch thats gonna get your ass beat. I need to work on it.

I remember seeing other explosives. But none close enough to feel the shockwave. At least one while on convoy security.
 
I remember seeing other explosives. But none close enough to feel the shockwave. At least one while on convoy security.
We used to make "kitchen napalm" and throw Molotovs at cars and buildings and a few times people made shit like IED/pipe bomb type shit that was not strong enough to produce a huge shockwave but it's still crazy to be near.

It's why I use terms like armed group or VNSA because we definitely went beyond just drive-bys and they had "treaties" in place with our local cops that they would get a cut and walk out of the evidence room with bags of coke that even the newspapers made fun of but no one did shit to stop.

Sorry man I'm rambling away in your diary but all to say even a civilian can get it every once in a while. Glad ur on the forum and hope it helps!
 
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