Hi... I'm new here. I'm not entirely sure how or why I found this forum, but after reading a lot of your stories, I was moved to tell my own as well. So here it goes.
I can't remember when the abuse started, but the earliest memory I have of it was around 3 years old. Long story short, my father's mother (i.e. my grandmother) used to have me stay over her house practically every weekend until I turned about 8 (that's when my parents were about to go through with the divorce). While over my grandmother's, she'd spoil me and treat me well. I actually loved her more than my mother. But at night she'd do the ol', "don't tell anyone or mom-mom will get in trouble speech" as she would proceed to grab vaseline out of the medicine cabinet and slather her finger(s) in it. She'd tell me she had to do it; that something was wrong and my vagina was "red" and she was putting medicine on it. Last time I checked? vaseline wasn't medicine.
And it hurt. I remember screaming and kicking and crying when she'd do it. To this day I can't, for the life of me, figure out why she did it. I wondered if she did it to her kids, and the other grandchildren. I dunno. To me, this was normal procedure every time I'd see her. But it didn't end there. She was creepy and abusive in other ways. Kissing me way too hard on the face/mouth, pinching me, touching me, monitoring me when I would go to the bathroom (yes, gross, eh?) and making sure she'd administer the baths and wash me. Remember, this was all from as early as I can recall until I was like grade school age.
Anyway, I remember my mother (who is a certifiable head case... hasn't been diagnosed professionally speaking, but she exhibits severe NPD) once asked me when I was still young if my grandmother was touching me. I accidentally told her one evening that "mom-mom put medicine on me so why didn't she [at night]?" My mother flipped out on me and made me feel so scared I never told her about it again.
I mean, you'd think my parents would have figured out from the constant bed-wetting that something was wrong with me. But, no, instead my mother would just yell and scream at me and make me sleep in my own piss because she was angry she had to clean up after me. I remember being 4 years old and going to my parents' bedroom to tell them I had an accident again, and she made me strip the bed and put new sheets on and made fun of me along with my older brother.
Anyway... this is just a brief summary of the childhood sexual abuse. My family was also very dysfunctional to boot. As I said, I had a very angry, nasty, self-aborbed mother that made MOMMY DEAREST look like the mother from LEAVE IT TO BEAVER. My dad was emotionally gone-- and he eventually knocked up some whore from Europe who wanted him for his money and left me and my brother high and dry at the ages of 10 and 16. He spawned 2 more evil children who took after their evil mother, who kept us from our father (because she was afraid all his money would be spent on us, instead of her-- therefore we grew up without a dad). She didn't even put my brother or I in the obituary when our father died last year, but that's a different story.
Anyway... so I grew up with a crazy mother for the most part who treated me like a veal; I wasn't allowed to have friends, talk on the phone, or do any extracurricular school activities. She basically just wanted me not to bother her. I pretty much was a mother to her growing up and she neglected me in all ways but cooking and cleaning.
Anyway, back to the sexual abuse-- I didn't even know it was abuse until I was in high school. Around this time we saw in the paper my grandmother had died. It was at this point, as I was getting ready for school one morning, my mother laughs and goes, "didn't mom-mom used to molest you?"
I was shocked. Not only did she sit there and just blatantly announce this as if I wouldn't be disturbed by it, but she also laughed about it? I confronted her about her not helping me when I went to her. She said she couldn't have done anything anyway; that my father wouldn't have believed it. And there sealed my fate of having low self-esteem for the rest of my life. lol
I was so confused. I thought, "women don't sexually abuse children... that's something that men do. But I know what she did to me hurt and was wrong... I don't get it."
I grew up so angry and didn't like people touching me. When I would see my friends at school, if they tried to hug me or touch me my body would go rigid; I hated it and would yell at them for it. I didn't like anyone putting their hands on me, yet I couldn't quite understand why. Now I look back and go, "well, duh! It's no wonder!" (well, that, and my mother was great at beating on us when we were young.)
It didn't help I was also bullied and made an outcast because I was the "fat girl" my entire life. But when I actually was able to make friends, my mom, of course, wouldn't allow me to have any. Very manipulative, selfish woman, she is. Her goal in life was to have me single and take care of her. This then led to an abusive marriage when I turned 22. Married the first man I ever dated. Note: don't ever do that, esp. if you only have dated him less than a year. But he was the better alternative to my mother at the time.
Anyway... so also my older brother freaked me out a couple of times growing up. I never told anyone this, but there was one time when I was about 13 he kinda did this strange move where he tried to act like he was beating me up on the stairs, but he purposely grabbed my breast and was feeling me up (I developed early). It definitely was a sexual thing-- to this day I don't understand why he did it. Later on in life, when I was in my late teens, I caught him watching me in the dark while I was in my bedroom getting dressed. It was really creepy and to this day I don't feel comfortable around him.
Before I started posted here I saw some threads that asked questions like, "why am I always a victim?" and "I have anger issues at work" and "I have PTSD/anxiety/depress". Well, count me in as well, because I can relate to all of these.
On the perpetual victim front, I feel like I've grown up always being attacked/picked on by others. The worst was when I was in my mid-20's and I had a group of women basically ruin my life, along with this professor who tried to coerce me into giving him oral sex. I don't need to go into details-- there's so much more to this-- but it sent me spiralling into a deep, clinical depression. I ended up suicidal and eventually had to be committed for a brief period. but I was also married to a very abusive man at the time as well, so that was a main factor in the depression as well.
When I tried to go to therapy and find a therapist I was comfortable with, it never worked out. I remember the one I went to-- I basically sat there the first day and spilled my guts within 5 minutes. There was a lot of cursing, tears, and anger. When I was done exploding all of the things that happened to me in my life, the therapist looked at me with anger in her eyes and scolds me for cursing in her office. I sat there, totally baffled... all I could think was, "I've been in so much pain, so long. So many things have happened to me. And all you can hear is the word 'f*ck?'" once again I'm dealing with a woman who will not validate my pain and is there only to judge me. I really hate therapists for the most part; they always seem more messed up than the clients.
So let's see, what else? Well, the other popular running theme for us seems to be anger issues at work. For some reason around 2010 I started to develop PMDD really bad. I started to cut and became suicidal again. The depression really never left, but I was much better than before. But it seems the PMDD was causing a lot of problems for me and I was having trouble at work when I was stressed. To this day I still freak out if the stress is getting to me. Usually if I'm in a public place, cutting is a better option, in my mind, than crying. I have no other coping skills aside from eating. lol
I think I've covered all of the basics. I'd like to end with the notion that all of this has really caused me to not like the majority of people on this planet. I keep joking with my boyfriend (whom I love-- he is a wonderful person, really) that I must have done some rotten things in a previous life to have to have gone through all the things in this one. I'm definitely burning through my karma I guess. But for some reason I just still can't wait to die. I look forward to it and embrace the idea. I don't like it here on this planet. The human race disappoints me a lot. Not saying that I'm perfect or there aren't good people out there-- there are very good hearted, kind, loving people on this earth. It's just that I seem to keep running into the ones that aren't for the most part. Either that, or the good ones are so few and far in between. I do love animals though. :) lol
<Edited by CB - basic grammar - capitalisation.>
I can't remember when the abuse started, but the earliest memory I have of it was around 3 years old. Long story short, my father's mother (i.e. my grandmother) used to have me stay over her house practically every weekend until I turned about 8 (that's when my parents were about to go through with the divorce). While over my grandmother's, she'd spoil me and treat me well. I actually loved her more than my mother. But at night she'd do the ol', "don't tell anyone or mom-mom will get in trouble speech" as she would proceed to grab vaseline out of the medicine cabinet and slather her finger(s) in it. She'd tell me she had to do it; that something was wrong and my vagina was "red" and she was putting medicine on it. Last time I checked? vaseline wasn't medicine.
And it hurt. I remember screaming and kicking and crying when she'd do it. To this day I can't, for the life of me, figure out why she did it. I wondered if she did it to her kids, and the other grandchildren. I dunno. To me, this was normal procedure every time I'd see her. But it didn't end there. She was creepy and abusive in other ways. Kissing me way too hard on the face/mouth, pinching me, touching me, monitoring me when I would go to the bathroom (yes, gross, eh?) and making sure she'd administer the baths and wash me. Remember, this was all from as early as I can recall until I was like grade school age.
Anyway, I remember my mother (who is a certifiable head case... hasn't been diagnosed professionally speaking, but she exhibits severe NPD) once asked me when I was still young if my grandmother was touching me. I accidentally told her one evening that "mom-mom put medicine on me so why didn't she [at night]?" My mother flipped out on me and made me feel so scared I never told her about it again.
I mean, you'd think my parents would have figured out from the constant bed-wetting that something was wrong with me. But, no, instead my mother would just yell and scream at me and make me sleep in my own piss because she was angry she had to clean up after me. I remember being 4 years old and going to my parents' bedroom to tell them I had an accident again, and she made me strip the bed and put new sheets on and made fun of me along with my older brother.
Anyway... this is just a brief summary of the childhood sexual abuse. My family was also very dysfunctional to boot. As I said, I had a very angry, nasty, self-aborbed mother that made MOMMY DEAREST look like the mother from LEAVE IT TO BEAVER. My dad was emotionally gone-- and he eventually knocked up some whore from Europe who wanted him for his money and left me and my brother high and dry at the ages of 10 and 16. He spawned 2 more evil children who took after their evil mother, who kept us from our father (because she was afraid all his money would be spent on us, instead of her-- therefore we grew up without a dad). She didn't even put my brother or I in the obituary when our father died last year, but that's a different story.
Anyway... so I grew up with a crazy mother for the most part who treated me like a veal; I wasn't allowed to have friends, talk on the phone, or do any extracurricular school activities. She basically just wanted me not to bother her. I pretty much was a mother to her growing up and she neglected me in all ways but cooking and cleaning.
Anyway, back to the sexual abuse-- I didn't even know it was abuse until I was in high school. Around this time we saw in the paper my grandmother had died. It was at this point, as I was getting ready for school one morning, my mother laughs and goes, "didn't mom-mom used to molest you?"
I was shocked. Not only did she sit there and just blatantly announce this as if I wouldn't be disturbed by it, but she also laughed about it? I confronted her about her not helping me when I went to her. She said she couldn't have done anything anyway; that my father wouldn't have believed it. And there sealed my fate of having low self-esteem for the rest of my life. lol
I was so confused. I thought, "women don't sexually abuse children... that's something that men do. But I know what she did to me hurt and was wrong... I don't get it."
I grew up so angry and didn't like people touching me. When I would see my friends at school, if they tried to hug me or touch me my body would go rigid; I hated it and would yell at them for it. I didn't like anyone putting their hands on me, yet I couldn't quite understand why. Now I look back and go, "well, duh! It's no wonder!" (well, that, and my mother was great at beating on us when we were young.)
It didn't help I was also bullied and made an outcast because I was the "fat girl" my entire life. But when I actually was able to make friends, my mom, of course, wouldn't allow me to have any. Very manipulative, selfish woman, she is. Her goal in life was to have me single and take care of her. This then led to an abusive marriage when I turned 22. Married the first man I ever dated. Note: don't ever do that, esp. if you only have dated him less than a year. But he was the better alternative to my mother at the time.
Anyway... so also my older brother freaked me out a couple of times growing up. I never told anyone this, but there was one time when I was about 13 he kinda did this strange move where he tried to act like he was beating me up on the stairs, but he purposely grabbed my breast and was feeling me up (I developed early). It definitely was a sexual thing-- to this day I don't understand why he did it. Later on in life, when I was in my late teens, I caught him watching me in the dark while I was in my bedroom getting dressed. It was really creepy and to this day I don't feel comfortable around him.
Before I started posted here I saw some threads that asked questions like, "why am I always a victim?" and "I have anger issues at work" and "I have PTSD/anxiety/depress". Well, count me in as well, because I can relate to all of these.
On the perpetual victim front, I feel like I've grown up always being attacked/picked on by others. The worst was when I was in my mid-20's and I had a group of women basically ruin my life, along with this professor who tried to coerce me into giving him oral sex. I don't need to go into details-- there's so much more to this-- but it sent me spiralling into a deep, clinical depression. I ended up suicidal and eventually had to be committed for a brief period. but I was also married to a very abusive man at the time as well, so that was a main factor in the depression as well.
When I tried to go to therapy and find a therapist I was comfortable with, it never worked out. I remember the one I went to-- I basically sat there the first day and spilled my guts within 5 minutes. There was a lot of cursing, tears, and anger. When I was done exploding all of the things that happened to me in my life, the therapist looked at me with anger in her eyes and scolds me for cursing in her office. I sat there, totally baffled... all I could think was, "I've been in so much pain, so long. So many things have happened to me. And all you can hear is the word 'f*ck?'" once again I'm dealing with a woman who will not validate my pain and is there only to judge me. I really hate therapists for the most part; they always seem more messed up than the clients.
So let's see, what else? Well, the other popular running theme for us seems to be anger issues at work. For some reason around 2010 I started to develop PMDD really bad. I started to cut and became suicidal again. The depression really never left, but I was much better than before. But it seems the PMDD was causing a lot of problems for me and I was having trouble at work when I was stressed. To this day I still freak out if the stress is getting to me. Usually if I'm in a public place, cutting is a better option, in my mind, than crying. I have no other coping skills aside from eating. lol
I think I've covered all of the basics. I'd like to end with the notion that all of this has really caused me to not like the majority of people on this planet. I keep joking with my boyfriend (whom I love-- he is a wonderful person, really) that I must have done some rotten things in a previous life to have to have gone through all the things in this one. I'm definitely burning through my karma I guess. But for some reason I just still can't wait to die. I look forward to it and embrace the idea. I don't like it here on this planet. The human race disappoints me a lot. Not saying that I'm perfect or there aren't good people out there-- there are very good hearted, kind, loving people on this earth. It's just that I seem to keep running into the ones that aren't for the most part. Either that, or the good ones are so few and far in between. I do love animals though. :) lol
<Edited by CB - basic grammar - capitalisation.>
