bodhisativa
New Here
Hello everyone. My name is Ashley, I'm 19! Not really sure how to introduce myself, but I guess a good place would be to start with my story? I'm not really sure what I'm looking for here, but I feel like this may be beneficial to me. I have been to therapy many times before but I always spoke about my depression, never my PTSD or past traumas.
When I was about 7 or 8 is when my trauma began to happen. My brother's friend, who also happened to be my neighbor (them being 9 or 10), began to abuse me. At first it started out innocently I guess you could say... you know, little kids showing each other their privates out of curiosity. But then I began to not want to 'play' that 'game' anymore. I wouldn't say it was my brother that instigated it, it was his friend. He would threaten me, tell me if I didn't pull my dress up and my panties down that he would hit me over the head with a baseball bat, or kill me. My brother was always there, but he never made the threats, and he just stood there silently when this happened. I can't remember if they touched me, though I feel like they did. I have glimpses of memories about them touching me but I couldn't tell you if they're real or not. My parents ended up getting divorced, so we moved away, and I never saw my brothers friend again. Many years went by, and my brother started acting out. My parents were having constant custody battles and it got to me and my brother.
When I was 11 years old my brother asked me if we could 'play' that 'game' we used to play when we were younger. I knew instantly what he was talking about, somehow. I said no and I got really upset and offended. After that, I would wake up in the middle of the night to my brother standing over me. It never clicked to me what he was doing, which I'm sure you understand why, you wouldn't think your own brother would do something like that to you. I'd always ask, "Andrew, what do you want? What are you doing?" He'd just say "Nothing," and walk out of my room. Sometimes I would have dreams that I was naked and wake up to my underwear being down, but I guess an hour or so after he molested me because sometimes I would wake up and he wasn't in the room. But my underwear was down.
Me, My brother, My dad, My stepmom, and My 4 year old stepsister went on a trip to Disney World. This is when I found out. Me and my brother shared a room. I was sleeping and woke up and saw my brother pacing about, so I closed my eyes slightly and pretended to be asleep. He then went on to touch me. He pulled his boxers down at one point and I panicked in my head and rolled over, to which he became afraid that I had woken up and left the room. This memory still haunts me to this day because being a virgin, I remember enjoying the sensation of him touching me. I also am not sure whether or not he ever penetrated me.
I immediately called my stepmom into the room and told her. I don't remember what I said, but I remember her crying. She told my dad. My brother was so ashamed he stayed in the hotel for the rest of the trip. I disassociated for awhile, I hadn't even cried, and later when we were in a restaurant I had to run outside and finally began to cry. This is one of the only few times I had ever cried about the trauma in my life.
Years go by, no flashbacks, though many dreams of my brother and my dad having sex with me happened. My dad never sexually violated me, at least I don't think so, I think it was association of male figures I trusted. However that also scares me, because what if he did and those dreams mean something and I just don't remember? What if I repressed it? I started getting heavy into drugs and self-harm. I have done more drugs than you could ever dream of. I have cut scars all the way down my arms and legs. I never thought that these things had anything to do with my trauma.
When I was 17, I started dating my ex Woody. That was what everyone called him so I called him that too. We got along greatly. He was very understanding, very loveable, very kind. Because of my trauma, I could not handle this. I became clingy and needy. I became very volatile. We had been discussing trying anal for awhile, but everytime we did it hurt me, so we didn't. One time we had sex, vaginally, and without asking he slipped it in the other hole. My face was buried in the blanket. I said no. I don't think he heard me, though he didn't even ask permission. he kept going until he finished. He realized immediately he did something wrong because I wasnt moving, and was lying crumpled on the floor. I had been biting into the blanket and crying. I told him he raped me and he was so shocked. He kept saying sorry, I'm so sorry. he began to cry too. He told me when I looked into his eyes it looked like I wasn't even looking at him. It looked like I was looking somewhere else.
We were still dating. He said he would do anything to keep me. He said he'd change and he'd make it up to me. The opposite happened, he started distancing himself. All I wanted was the support of the one person I thought I loved, so that detachment threw me into desperation. I became a different person. I always had to see him. I texted him and called him constantly, which only pushed him further away. I started becoming suicidal and doing any drugs that came into my hands. I started threatening him by telling him I was going to report the police, I was lashing out so much. I had never felt this much pain in my life before. This is when I finally started having the flashbacks that I hadn't had for years. Memories of him and my brother became indistinguishable, almost as if they were the same person in my mind. At one point I spoke to Woody about my brother and how I couldn't stop comparing him to my brother, and he said, "Well why didn't you just stop your brother then if it was that bad?" I never thought he'd say anything like that to me.
A few days later I took a bottle of allergy medication, and went into my first hospital for suicide. The second time I went into the hospital, two weeks later, I admitted myself after a night with a bunch of xanax led me into the back of a cop car because I was knocking on people's doors asking where Woody was. Three weeks later, I went into my final hospital, and this was the worst case because I had taken a whole bottle of klonopin, my Mom walked in and found the empty bottle, and she called the cops. I tried to take more pills and wrestled with a cop because they tried to take it from my hand. Getting to the hospital I broke a bunch of property and was incoherent for three days.
We eventually broke up. I didn't see it at the time but those hospitals saved my life. My parents moved to Florida soon after and I went with them, which was the best decision I could make at the time. I moved back to the state where the abuse happened, and spoke to a detective about filing a report against Woody for what had happened. I ended up moving back to Florida two weeks ago, so I never got around to doing that. I don't think I wanted to do that for the right reasons, anyways. I think I just wanted revenge. I would not have felt right if I did that.
It's been a year since that happened, and about 8 years since what happened with my brother. I am doing a lot better now, though I still have depression and anxiety, and PTSD. The depression is barely there anymore, same with the anxiety, but the PTSD is. I would say I think I'm generally okay now, I am making a bunch of right decisions in my life right now. But I still have flashbacks and I still have dreams. I still have sensory feelings that overcome me and overtake my whole body, and these all happen randomly. It feels horrible when it happens. I'm not sure what I'm here for, but I just wanted to introduce myself and share my story. Thank you for letting me share, and I'm glad I found this place.
Thank you.
When I was about 7 or 8 is when my trauma began to happen. My brother's friend, who also happened to be my neighbor (them being 9 or 10), began to abuse me. At first it started out innocently I guess you could say... you know, little kids showing each other their privates out of curiosity. But then I began to not want to 'play' that 'game' anymore. I wouldn't say it was my brother that instigated it, it was his friend. He would threaten me, tell me if I didn't pull my dress up and my panties down that he would hit me over the head with a baseball bat, or kill me. My brother was always there, but he never made the threats, and he just stood there silently when this happened. I can't remember if they touched me, though I feel like they did. I have glimpses of memories about them touching me but I couldn't tell you if they're real or not. My parents ended up getting divorced, so we moved away, and I never saw my brothers friend again. Many years went by, and my brother started acting out. My parents were having constant custody battles and it got to me and my brother.
When I was 11 years old my brother asked me if we could 'play' that 'game' we used to play when we were younger. I knew instantly what he was talking about, somehow. I said no and I got really upset and offended. After that, I would wake up in the middle of the night to my brother standing over me. It never clicked to me what he was doing, which I'm sure you understand why, you wouldn't think your own brother would do something like that to you. I'd always ask, "Andrew, what do you want? What are you doing?" He'd just say "Nothing," and walk out of my room. Sometimes I would have dreams that I was naked and wake up to my underwear being down, but I guess an hour or so after he molested me because sometimes I would wake up and he wasn't in the room. But my underwear was down.
Me, My brother, My dad, My stepmom, and My 4 year old stepsister went on a trip to Disney World. This is when I found out. Me and my brother shared a room. I was sleeping and woke up and saw my brother pacing about, so I closed my eyes slightly and pretended to be asleep. He then went on to touch me. He pulled his boxers down at one point and I panicked in my head and rolled over, to which he became afraid that I had woken up and left the room. This memory still haunts me to this day because being a virgin, I remember enjoying the sensation of him touching me. I also am not sure whether or not he ever penetrated me.
I immediately called my stepmom into the room and told her. I don't remember what I said, but I remember her crying. She told my dad. My brother was so ashamed he stayed in the hotel for the rest of the trip. I disassociated for awhile, I hadn't even cried, and later when we were in a restaurant I had to run outside and finally began to cry. This is one of the only few times I had ever cried about the trauma in my life.
Years go by, no flashbacks, though many dreams of my brother and my dad having sex with me happened. My dad never sexually violated me, at least I don't think so, I think it was association of male figures I trusted. However that also scares me, because what if he did and those dreams mean something and I just don't remember? What if I repressed it? I started getting heavy into drugs and self-harm. I have done more drugs than you could ever dream of. I have cut scars all the way down my arms and legs. I never thought that these things had anything to do with my trauma.
When I was 17, I started dating my ex Woody. That was what everyone called him so I called him that too. We got along greatly. He was very understanding, very loveable, very kind. Because of my trauma, I could not handle this. I became clingy and needy. I became very volatile. We had been discussing trying anal for awhile, but everytime we did it hurt me, so we didn't. One time we had sex, vaginally, and without asking he slipped it in the other hole. My face was buried in the blanket. I said no. I don't think he heard me, though he didn't even ask permission. he kept going until he finished. He realized immediately he did something wrong because I wasnt moving, and was lying crumpled on the floor. I had been biting into the blanket and crying. I told him he raped me and he was so shocked. He kept saying sorry, I'm so sorry. he began to cry too. He told me when I looked into his eyes it looked like I wasn't even looking at him. It looked like I was looking somewhere else.
We were still dating. He said he would do anything to keep me. He said he'd change and he'd make it up to me. The opposite happened, he started distancing himself. All I wanted was the support of the one person I thought I loved, so that detachment threw me into desperation. I became a different person. I always had to see him. I texted him and called him constantly, which only pushed him further away. I started becoming suicidal and doing any drugs that came into my hands. I started threatening him by telling him I was going to report the police, I was lashing out so much. I had never felt this much pain in my life before. This is when I finally started having the flashbacks that I hadn't had for years. Memories of him and my brother became indistinguishable, almost as if they were the same person in my mind. At one point I spoke to Woody about my brother and how I couldn't stop comparing him to my brother, and he said, "Well why didn't you just stop your brother then if it was that bad?" I never thought he'd say anything like that to me.
A few days later I took a bottle of allergy medication, and went into my first hospital for suicide. The second time I went into the hospital, two weeks later, I admitted myself after a night with a bunch of xanax led me into the back of a cop car because I was knocking on people's doors asking where Woody was. Three weeks later, I went into my final hospital, and this was the worst case because I had taken a whole bottle of klonopin, my Mom walked in and found the empty bottle, and she called the cops. I tried to take more pills and wrestled with a cop because they tried to take it from my hand. Getting to the hospital I broke a bunch of property and was incoherent for three days.
We eventually broke up. I didn't see it at the time but those hospitals saved my life. My parents moved to Florida soon after and I went with them, which was the best decision I could make at the time. I moved back to the state where the abuse happened, and spoke to a detective about filing a report against Woody for what had happened. I ended up moving back to Florida two weeks ago, so I never got around to doing that. I don't think I wanted to do that for the right reasons, anyways. I think I just wanted revenge. I would not have felt right if I did that.
It's been a year since that happened, and about 8 years since what happened with my brother. I am doing a lot better now, though I still have depression and anxiety, and PTSD. The depression is barely there anymore, same with the anxiety, but the PTSD is. I would say I think I'm generally okay now, I am making a bunch of right decisions in my life right now. But I still have flashbacks and I still have dreams. I still have sensory feelings that overcome me and overtake my whole body, and these all happen randomly. It feels horrible when it happens. I'm not sure what I'm here for, but I just wanted to introduce myself and share my story. Thank you for letting me share, and I'm glad I found this place.
Thank you.
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