I was not told until recently that I had PTSD. I was told I had had it for a very long time, even though it was a recent event that finally sent me to seek help, which only lasted for 2 sessions. Now, I have no one to talk to. I have been fine, for the most part, all of my life, until this most recent event. Now I have fallen apart, completely. I fight agoraphobia, I have night terrors when I can sleep at all. I cry at the drop of a hat. I have panic attacks in public. I have kicked all of my friends out of my life, even those who have been there for 30 years. I can't even function anymore.
I was sexually abused from age 3-5 by an Uncle. I was sexually abused by another Uncle from age 9 and yet another from age 12. I was raped by a man who's children I was babysitting at age 13 and almost bled to death. I was unconscious and in shock when discovered. I needed surgery and blood transfusion. I was physically abused from birth to age 26 by my mother including being threatened with a loaded handgun at my head, repeatedly (one of my earliest childhood memories, in fact). I was the victim of domestic violence from two spouses and a boyfriend and suffered numerous facial fractures and stab wounds. I was bullied horrendously at school, even to the point that to this day I can't walk into a crowded room or a lunchroom.
I was pretty ok, though, until 2 years ago. I opened my bedroom door and found a man standing there with a 14" survival knife (10" blade). I was held against my will for many hours, sexually assaulted, physically battered, cut repeatedly and then threatened with a loaded handgun that he took from my husbands bedside. I knew that I was going to die and just prayed it was not my daughter who found my body.
I can't heal from this one. I died that day, even though this shell moves around my house pretending to be me. I have no one to talk to. I am completely alone in my suffering. I pray every day for God to let me die because I am too much a coward to do it, myself, evidently. I'm not suicidal but I wish I wasn't here anymore, if that makes sense.
I was sexually abused from age 3-5 by an Uncle. I was sexually abused by another Uncle from age 9 and yet another from age 12. I was raped by a man who's children I was babysitting at age 13 and almost bled to death. I was unconscious and in shock when discovered. I needed surgery and blood transfusion. I was physically abused from birth to age 26 by my mother including being threatened with a loaded handgun at my head, repeatedly (one of my earliest childhood memories, in fact). I was the victim of domestic violence from two spouses and a boyfriend and suffered numerous facial fractures and stab wounds. I was bullied horrendously at school, even to the point that to this day I can't walk into a crowded room or a lunchroom.
I was pretty ok, though, until 2 years ago. I opened my bedroom door and found a man standing there with a 14" survival knife (10" blade). I was held against my will for many hours, sexually assaulted, physically battered, cut repeatedly and then threatened with a loaded handgun that he took from my husbands bedside. I knew that I was going to die and just prayed it was not my daughter who found my body.
I can't heal from this one. I died that day, even though this shell moves around my house pretending to be me. I have no one to talk to. I am completely alone in my suffering. I pray every day for God to let me die because I am too much a coward to do it, myself, evidently. I'm not suicidal but I wish I wasn't here anymore, if that makes sense.
