Jessimessi
New Here
Hi everyone, let me first say thank you to each and everyone of you who has shared their experience before me as for once in my life an entire world that MAKES SENSE has opened before me. I am new when it comes to therapy and understanding that my entire life has been a series of abusive and dysfunctional experienced, and that I can't just "get over it and move on"
I am 35 years old and so dealing with some anger at myself that I never recognized how distorted my thinking and actions have been until recently. I was born to a mother with severe npd, and at 6 months old she sent my older brother and I to live out of state with my "father" and his wife so she could attend "college" I do have horrible memories from this time including my father coming home drunk and abusing my brother and I, beating and choking my step mom, and my grandmother slitting her wrists while caring for us when I was around 3 - and being placed in state custody. My maternal grandparents came for us after that. Not my mother.
Once back "home" my mother remarried and moved the family abroad and away from all the family we knew. Between being isolated, terrified and the mental and physical abuse we endured I have a hard time remembering much for the next 8 years. Just that I was so very lonely.
I never remember being taken to the doctor. We were expected to have no needs and we're just complaining if we dared to expect care. As soon as I could manage to get back to the US in the care of my grandmother at 15, I was already smoking and drinking alcohol and experimenting with hash. I realize now I was just trying to push the pain down. I could never cry, or show happiness or excitement. Unless my mother wanted us to.
Being back home wasn't as wonderful as my childish mind imagined it to be. My grandfather died the day before I came back and life there as I knew it ceases to exist. My grandmother coped by ignoring I was there to grieve ( which I understand). I didn't know the. That she was also an extremely emotionally abusive person as well. I raged and numbed my way through high school, experimenting with any drug I could get my hands on. Acid, Coke, meth, pot, pills.. Whatever. I would see my mom maybe once a year or whenever the f&ck it fit her schedule. My first suicide attempt was at 17, when I began to feel like maybe I had made a mistake I crawled to my grandmother telling her I'd taken an overdose. " well just go lie down! She snapped. Later, she said she thought it was " just a bunch of aspirin and a cry for help" she finally took me to the ER, and I remember at my follow up refused to put me in any type of therapy.
anyways not sure where I'm going with this as it isn't all sorted out in my own head yet. Fast forward I was determined to have a great life on my own. I busted my ass over 7 years to be the first person in my family to earn a bachelors degree, I bought a house on my own at 27. I did everything "right" until....
I met my ex husband at 28, married him at 30 and life fell apart. I have always been overly independent and never asked my ex for anything. I was laid off my job a month before the wedding. I didn't have time to think about finances but I was getting married right? Had a partner for life- we'd get through it. I also discovered I was 3 months pregnant at this time.
Looking back, there were SO many signs, I just didn't have the healthy framework I needed to see them. On our honeymoon he "actually" beat the shit out of me for the first time. There was no arguing the nuances anymore ( I pushed you because you wouldn't let me leave, I didn't touch you stop acting like a victim) two days later I miscarried at 17 weeks in the car and in bathrooms on the way home. ( can't get these images out of my mind) When we returned I almost died from hemorrhaging bc he wouldn't take me in. He finally did take me and played the concerned husband part so well I actually was stupid enough to play along.
Within two weeks I was isolated, broke, and alone besides him. He refused to help financially in any way even though he was living in what he called "my house" why would he pay for "my house?
I kicked him out and changed the locks. He terrorized me. He broke into my house stealing EVERYTHING. Cops said you can't steal what you own, you're married yuck yuck. He continued to lie and steal, gaslight and stalk. I finally rented a hotel room to blow my brains out. He wasn't going to let me get off that easy. He had the police track my phone, arrest me and have me evaluated since I was obviously f*cking insane. He had me admitted ( he was my husband he could do that) and played the preening concerned husband during my whole admission.
I finally filed for divorce when I could get out and get enough room between us. I had no one. My family seemed pleased my life had gone awry. Who did I think I was going to college and buying a house. See? I was just a fake. So I kept going on. Continued to work although the panic and anxiety eats me alive.
I have no friends, and when I do I just don't seem to be able to keep up with it. I have had several medical problems and car accidents for which I was funneled into pain management. Of course, I abused my meds but decided to stop on my own 3 months ago.
I did find a wonderful and patient partner and we had an unexpected pregnancy. I now have a beautiful daughter. It is for her that I sought help to break this cycle of shit that haunts my family. She does not know them and never will. I will never best, demean or taunt her. I look at her and wonder what must be wrong with me for everyone in my life to have done so to me? I have a wonderful therapist that I trust after wanting help for so long but hating the people I ended up with. It is a daunting task!!
Anyways I'm rambling and not sure if this is even coherent, but this site has given me so many " AHA!!" Moments that for the first time I might be able to see a future.
I am 35 years old and so dealing with some anger at myself that I never recognized how distorted my thinking and actions have been until recently. I was born to a mother with severe npd, and at 6 months old she sent my older brother and I to live out of state with my "father" and his wife so she could attend "college" I do have horrible memories from this time including my father coming home drunk and abusing my brother and I, beating and choking my step mom, and my grandmother slitting her wrists while caring for us when I was around 3 - and being placed in state custody. My maternal grandparents came for us after that. Not my mother.
Once back "home" my mother remarried and moved the family abroad and away from all the family we knew. Between being isolated, terrified and the mental and physical abuse we endured I have a hard time remembering much for the next 8 years. Just that I was so very lonely.
I never remember being taken to the doctor. We were expected to have no needs and we're just complaining if we dared to expect care. As soon as I could manage to get back to the US in the care of my grandmother at 15, I was already smoking and drinking alcohol and experimenting with hash. I realize now I was just trying to push the pain down. I could never cry, or show happiness or excitement. Unless my mother wanted us to.
Being back home wasn't as wonderful as my childish mind imagined it to be. My grandfather died the day before I came back and life there as I knew it ceases to exist. My grandmother coped by ignoring I was there to grieve ( which I understand). I didn't know the. That she was also an extremely emotionally abusive person as well. I raged and numbed my way through high school, experimenting with any drug I could get my hands on. Acid, Coke, meth, pot, pills.. Whatever. I would see my mom maybe once a year or whenever the f&ck it fit her schedule. My first suicide attempt was at 17, when I began to feel like maybe I had made a mistake I crawled to my grandmother telling her I'd taken an overdose. " well just go lie down! She snapped. Later, she said she thought it was " just a bunch of aspirin and a cry for help" she finally took me to the ER, and I remember at my follow up refused to put me in any type of therapy.
anyways not sure where I'm going with this as it isn't all sorted out in my own head yet. Fast forward I was determined to have a great life on my own. I busted my ass over 7 years to be the first person in my family to earn a bachelors degree, I bought a house on my own at 27. I did everything "right" until....
I met my ex husband at 28, married him at 30 and life fell apart. I have always been overly independent and never asked my ex for anything. I was laid off my job a month before the wedding. I didn't have time to think about finances but I was getting married right? Had a partner for life- we'd get through it. I also discovered I was 3 months pregnant at this time.
Looking back, there were SO many signs, I just didn't have the healthy framework I needed to see them. On our honeymoon he "actually" beat the shit out of me for the first time. There was no arguing the nuances anymore ( I pushed you because you wouldn't let me leave, I didn't touch you stop acting like a victim) two days later I miscarried at 17 weeks in the car and in bathrooms on the way home. ( can't get these images out of my mind) When we returned I almost died from hemorrhaging bc he wouldn't take me in. He finally did take me and played the concerned husband part so well I actually was stupid enough to play along.
Within two weeks I was isolated, broke, and alone besides him. He refused to help financially in any way even though he was living in what he called "my house" why would he pay for "my house?
I kicked him out and changed the locks. He terrorized me. He broke into my house stealing EVERYTHING. Cops said you can't steal what you own, you're married yuck yuck. He continued to lie and steal, gaslight and stalk. I finally rented a hotel room to blow my brains out. He wasn't going to let me get off that easy. He had the police track my phone, arrest me and have me evaluated since I was obviously f*cking insane. He had me admitted ( he was my husband he could do that) and played the preening concerned husband during my whole admission.
I finally filed for divorce when I could get out and get enough room between us. I had no one. My family seemed pleased my life had gone awry. Who did I think I was going to college and buying a house. See? I was just a fake. So I kept going on. Continued to work although the panic and anxiety eats me alive.
I have no friends, and when I do I just don't seem to be able to keep up with it. I have had several medical problems and car accidents for which I was funneled into pain management. Of course, I abused my meds but decided to stop on my own 3 months ago.
I did find a wonderful and patient partner and we had an unexpected pregnancy. I now have a beautiful daughter. It is for her that I sought help to break this cycle of shit that haunts my family. She does not know them and never will. I will never best, demean or taunt her. I look at her and wonder what must be wrong with me for everyone in my life to have done so to me? I have a wonderful therapist that I trust after wanting help for so long but hating the people I ended up with. It is a daunting task!!
Anyways I'm rambling and not sure if this is even coherent, but this site has given me so many " AHA!!" Moments that for the first time I might be able to see a future.
