NetherWarper
New Here
I feel like right now a small weight on my body is being lifted. I have never shared this with anyone before, but things lately have gotten so bad I just can't take this any longer. If no one reads this so be it, but I'm writing it down, and maybe will even get some feedback, someone suggesting something and I will have told at least one person my story. Here it is.
I'm 25 years old. Doesn't feel like it. So much of my life was spent surviving that I still feel eternally a young soul. Firstly, my mother was a drunk an a serious addict. Not one of those friendly chattery drunks. She was (although I am an atheist) literally EVIL incarnate. Borderline Personality, Bi Polar, with a serious itchin' for whatever would f*ck her up most. She used men for money and stability for her crazy life.
She feel pregnant with me in 87 when she was still married to another man with one child (my sister) that she took not a bit of mind too. My dad was only 18...of course she lied about her age with her affair. They were all police officers in Memphis. You readers would be shocked to know how corrupt some officers really are. My mother did desk work, deemed to crazy for civilian interaction, she was stuck with the clerical end of police work. Around the time I was born things took a turn for the endless downward spiral that would be our family and my life. She divorced the first man, married the kid (my dad, and 18 is still a child lets be real here) and really started to evolve into a new type of evil.
My paternal grandmother was my saving grace, she loved me, she didn't want them to take me home from the hospital but there was nothing she could do, she told me that she would come over following the days/weeks/months after my birth and ask how I would sleep at night. My parents shook their heads like they didn't know or care. They were letting me "cry it out" at a week old...three months...one year. I was underweight. I have flashbacks I don't understand, I know that a child that young cannot possibly remember something like that, but I do. I do remember laying on my back, staring at a ceiling, wooden crib bars to my sides and crying. Wanting to see a face..any face... . My parents fought ALL of the time, my mother using all of those drugs would get violent and it would end in blood on the floors, we would be hurt from trying to break it up.
My sister would get me ready in the morning, an 7/8 year old getting a 4 year old ready... making me cereal, brushing my hair. My parents would be putting on their work uniforms like nothing happened the night before. Shining upholding police officers. I was allowed to go to my grandparents on weekends. We loved it there, Toys, fresh meals, love more importantly. But then Sunday night came and we were forced into the darkness. I can say literal DARKNESS because my mother ALWAYS wore sunglasses, even when she slept, showered, and always a hat or cap of some kind, she wasn't feminine at all, and in the daytime the curtains would be down, sheets on windows, no lights allowed. She hated light and it was so dark, it matched her and my father, their fighting. I cried for just a drawn blind to see out my bedroom window and I was beaten for it. We got one meal in her care. It was called Kids Steak. She said it came special from the butcher and that every kid has it for dinner. I am an adult now and I know now it was a ground beef patty that took her ten minutes to cook and serve with A1. I can no longer eat A1. It triggers me to remembering the hungriness I felt all the time, the awful taste of that meat every night.
My grandparents were good people and they tried so hard to get us out of that house, but the court system is so goddamn flawed and they don't like taking kids away from their parents. My mother was smart and would buy kits to clean her system, anything she could to hurt us and our grandparents as much as possible. There are things that hurt so bad to remember. She would fight with our dad at night, I would cry into my pillow, try and imagine I was somewhere far away. A bird flying in the opposite direction. Our door would SWOOSH open and it would be her in the darkness with those glasses "You whores ruined everything. You stupid bitches ruined my life!I hate you!" My dad would punch her for saying that about us, then when he would realize how much he physically hurt her he would just leave. He left us there with her. To what go sleep in a truck??I would've picked that truck too, the truck bed was much better than my bed!
She would lock us out of the house for hours and hours. Once a cop came to our door because a neighboor saw me deficating in the backyard. I was pooping outside because I could no longer hold it. And when I think about that memory I feel so shameful. I have asymmetrical breasts now as an adult thanks to her drug use during pregnancy. I do not feel beautiful or strong or independent. I still feel like that little ugly chubby kid I once was. At 18 I couldn't take it anymore. My parents both eventually screwed up so bad that they now are serving looong lengthy sentences in prisons. Divorced finally.
I packed my things and moved to Florida. Now I have a boyfriend of 4 years and we have a 2 year old son. Maybe its because of how it was for me growing up but I am the best mother in the world to that sweet little boy. I could NEVER imagine doing or saying anything like that woman did to me. My boyfriend is great, great family but they all live in Jersey, far away so its just the 3 of us. I try to see that my life is much better than it used to be but I CANT get passed so many things. The abuse for years and years, begging for someone to help.
One of the worst is when my parents were divorcing when I was 13. Because of school location I was stuck living with my mother in a nasty trailor (she had finally been fired from the police force)with a drug dealer. She had just served a 1 year sentence for holding her boyfriend hostage and having a standoff with police. I am not kidding, the night of my 12th birthday too. The drug dealer we were living with was a much older man, a dirty hippie looking type. He wanted me to call him Dad, the more I did nice for him the more drugs my mother was rewarded with. She took my Ritalin every morning and his drugs every night. Once I was taking a bubble bath and he came in and wouldn't leave. He watched me take that bath. I felt the same way I felt with I pooped in that backyard. Shameful. Embarassed. Low. Nothing. The nothingness of nothing. And when i think about it writing this right now i can feel the same emotions pouring through me.
I am by the American Standard, poor. We have a nice house we rent, but although I went to college I could not find a job in my medical assisting field and resorted to working and popular brand sandwich restaurant. I cannot afford a psychologist to listen to this stuff, to help me cope with the black hole that was my life. I still feel like I am just survivng every day. I put on such a front to everyone around me, and I hurt so bad on the inside. Because I lack health insurance I cannot afford to pay for someone to listen.
If anyone has any advice, and opinions good or bad, or inouts, please feel free to share. Thankyou so much for reading this. Are there anyways I can get through all of these flashes and triggers?
I'm 25 years old. Doesn't feel like it. So much of my life was spent surviving that I still feel eternally a young soul. Firstly, my mother was a drunk an a serious addict. Not one of those friendly chattery drunks. She was (although I am an atheist) literally EVIL incarnate. Borderline Personality, Bi Polar, with a serious itchin' for whatever would f*ck her up most. She used men for money and stability for her crazy life.
She feel pregnant with me in 87 when she was still married to another man with one child (my sister) that she took not a bit of mind too. My dad was only 18...of course she lied about her age with her affair. They were all police officers in Memphis. You readers would be shocked to know how corrupt some officers really are. My mother did desk work, deemed to crazy for civilian interaction, she was stuck with the clerical end of police work. Around the time I was born things took a turn for the endless downward spiral that would be our family and my life. She divorced the first man, married the kid (my dad, and 18 is still a child lets be real here) and really started to evolve into a new type of evil.
My paternal grandmother was my saving grace, she loved me, she didn't want them to take me home from the hospital but there was nothing she could do, she told me that she would come over following the days/weeks/months after my birth and ask how I would sleep at night. My parents shook their heads like they didn't know or care. They were letting me "cry it out" at a week old...three months...one year. I was underweight. I have flashbacks I don't understand, I know that a child that young cannot possibly remember something like that, but I do. I do remember laying on my back, staring at a ceiling, wooden crib bars to my sides and crying. Wanting to see a face..any face... . My parents fought ALL of the time, my mother using all of those drugs would get violent and it would end in blood on the floors, we would be hurt from trying to break it up.
My sister would get me ready in the morning, an 7/8 year old getting a 4 year old ready... making me cereal, brushing my hair. My parents would be putting on their work uniforms like nothing happened the night before. Shining upholding police officers. I was allowed to go to my grandparents on weekends. We loved it there, Toys, fresh meals, love more importantly. But then Sunday night came and we were forced into the darkness. I can say literal DARKNESS because my mother ALWAYS wore sunglasses, even when she slept, showered, and always a hat or cap of some kind, she wasn't feminine at all, and in the daytime the curtains would be down, sheets on windows, no lights allowed. She hated light and it was so dark, it matched her and my father, their fighting. I cried for just a drawn blind to see out my bedroom window and I was beaten for it. We got one meal in her care. It was called Kids Steak. She said it came special from the butcher and that every kid has it for dinner. I am an adult now and I know now it was a ground beef patty that took her ten minutes to cook and serve with A1. I can no longer eat A1. It triggers me to remembering the hungriness I felt all the time, the awful taste of that meat every night.
My grandparents were good people and they tried so hard to get us out of that house, but the court system is so goddamn flawed and they don't like taking kids away from their parents. My mother was smart and would buy kits to clean her system, anything she could to hurt us and our grandparents as much as possible. There are things that hurt so bad to remember. She would fight with our dad at night, I would cry into my pillow, try and imagine I was somewhere far away. A bird flying in the opposite direction. Our door would SWOOSH open and it would be her in the darkness with those glasses "You whores ruined everything. You stupid bitches ruined my life!I hate you!" My dad would punch her for saying that about us, then when he would realize how much he physically hurt her he would just leave. He left us there with her. To what go sleep in a truck??I would've picked that truck too, the truck bed was much better than my bed!
She would lock us out of the house for hours and hours. Once a cop came to our door because a neighboor saw me deficating in the backyard. I was pooping outside because I could no longer hold it. And when I think about that memory I feel so shameful. I have asymmetrical breasts now as an adult thanks to her drug use during pregnancy. I do not feel beautiful or strong or independent. I still feel like that little ugly chubby kid I once was. At 18 I couldn't take it anymore. My parents both eventually screwed up so bad that they now are serving looong lengthy sentences in prisons. Divorced finally.
I packed my things and moved to Florida. Now I have a boyfriend of 4 years and we have a 2 year old son. Maybe its because of how it was for me growing up but I am the best mother in the world to that sweet little boy. I could NEVER imagine doing or saying anything like that woman did to me. My boyfriend is great, great family but they all live in Jersey, far away so its just the 3 of us. I try to see that my life is much better than it used to be but I CANT get passed so many things. The abuse for years and years, begging for someone to help.
One of the worst is when my parents were divorcing when I was 13. Because of school location I was stuck living with my mother in a nasty trailor (she had finally been fired from the police force)with a drug dealer. She had just served a 1 year sentence for holding her boyfriend hostage and having a standoff with police. I am not kidding, the night of my 12th birthday too. The drug dealer we were living with was a much older man, a dirty hippie looking type. He wanted me to call him Dad, the more I did nice for him the more drugs my mother was rewarded with. She took my Ritalin every morning and his drugs every night. Once I was taking a bubble bath and he came in and wouldn't leave. He watched me take that bath. I felt the same way I felt with I pooped in that backyard. Shameful. Embarassed. Low. Nothing. The nothingness of nothing. And when i think about it writing this right now i can feel the same emotions pouring through me.
I am by the American Standard, poor. We have a nice house we rent, but although I went to college I could not find a job in my medical assisting field and resorted to working and popular brand sandwich restaurant. I cannot afford a psychologist to listen to this stuff, to help me cope with the black hole that was my life. I still feel like I am just survivng every day. I put on such a front to everyone around me, and I hurt so bad on the inside. Because I lack health insurance I cannot afford to pay for someone to listen.
If anyone has any advice, and opinions good or bad, or inouts, please feel free to share. Thankyou so much for reading this. Are there anyways I can get through all of these flashes and triggers?
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