New and in the midst of a CPTSD hurricane


New Here
Based on what I have seen here, these are supposed to serve as a "diary" of some kind. So, I guess I should provide some background. I don't want to get into the specifics right now. I don't even know who is here reading. But, I was raised by a narcissistic alcoholic father and a co-dependent mother. I went on at 17 to move in with a boyfriend who liked to hit me, restrain me, and generally make me feel like shit before he bought me the most beautiful gifts. But I needed to get out of my parent's house, and maybe, just maybe that is what I deserved (or so I thought at the time). I remember struggling against him and thinking that this was the only way to physically get rid of the pain I was feeling. I was a kid. I had no idea how much more trauma I was heaping onto my life. I thought this was how life was. Until one day when he came home from work in a mood. He was working in a warehouse and wore steel-toe shoes. We argued, as usual, and as I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, he kicked me right in the face. He broke my nose and my eyes turned black. I left shortly after that. Back to my parent's house but not for long. There are so many small traumas that go along with the major ones. So many boys and men. I still cannot explain why my mind goes to this place where men are evil and also my salvation.

After a brief stay at my parents' house, I knew I couldn't remain there. Nothing had changed, but at least I had a car. So I drove, as I often do, to a friend's house who lived about 45 minutes away. I met lots of people, dated a few, and drank with most of them, and when I think back to the time between 18-19 it's kind of blurry. But, at 19 I met my first husband. Growing up poor I guess I thought that money was the key. Money is what makes families "normal." My ex-husband was a hottie and his family was comfortable in the finance department. These two things were all I thought it took. Looking back, it almost makes me laugh before I start to cry. Turns out Mr. Comfortable Hottie was also an alcoholic and a sloppy drunk. This seemed perfectly normal to me. It looked like my family but with a nice house and stuff to put in it. I tried everything I could to turn our home into a place that he wanted to be. I know he was not faithful. I know he crossed more lines than I knew existed at the time. Finally, one day he came home completely wasted. I had given birth to our twins not too many months prior. On rare occasions, I was able to drive them around until they drifted off, and then I could get some sleep too. Only this night was different. As I slept, he tried touching me. This was long after I had stopped sleeping with him because he just disgusted me. I did the swat away of his hand that we women do sometimes. I groaned and said no. But he was undeterred. He raped me that night. He was too shit-faced to know if I was conscious, physically ok, or even alive. I disassociated pretty quickly from years of practice. I remember being caught in this thought that, "This is your husband. Husbands have a right to their wife" and "This is absolutely wrong. I said no. My own husband cannot be trusted to keep me safe." It was hard to reconcile that for a long time. I'm thankful for my ability to disassociate only I wish I had the strength then to scream, or push, or anything besides laying there like a corpse. I know it's not my fault, but since he was my husband it also doesn't look like the rape I'm used to hearing about. So, is it really? I think so, but maybe others do not.

I took the kids and left shortly after that. Back to my parent's house for 4 months with 9 month old twins, no job, and no place to go. I got a job immediately and found an apartment in no time. Those 4 months were ridiculous when I think back. I was 29 at the time and it had been 10 years since I had last lived in a house my parent's owned. Again, nothing had changed. I dated a bit. It was weird at that age with little kids to date. But I don't really know how to not seek out the approval of men. My current husband reached out to me on MySpace. We had dated when I was 14-16. He was comfortable and familiar. We dated casually for a few months and then decided to make it exclusive. I never let the kids see him in a way that would lead them to believe he had spent the night. I was diligent. Eventually I saved enough and I bought the kids and I a house. It was one of the proudest moments I have ever had. Knowing I had done that all by myself for my family. Then, one day, upon discovering that I could no longer stand the smell of coffee, I realized that I was pregnant. I was not trying, and I had been on DepoPrevera. I strugged with this decision. I made an appointment at the clinic and canceled it. I was torn up. My parents did not want me to have the baby. My husband (boyfriend at the time) was supportive with whatever I decided. He really was amazing. In the end I decided to have my son. I was 30 years old, had a decent job, and owned a home. I could not imagine what excuse I could have to not have this baby. Besides, I loved him already. This caused a rift in my family of origin that still exists. My father has never formally met my son and I have not spoken to my parents in 13 years. Even though it's hard, especially now around the holidays, I know it was right.

My parents, not ones to be told what to do, took me to court for grandparent's rights. They wanted visitation with my daughters (from my first marriage) but not my son. My position was and remains, that they can hate me all day, but they will not, under any circumstances, divide my family. All of my children are their blood and so they can choose to love them all or none. Thankfully the judge agreed and tore them a new asshole in the court docs. The vindication felt amazing, but having to testify to keep the right to make decisions for my own children, was a small death inside. My daughters had to see a law guardian at the time who was there to ensure they got what was in their best interest. I am thankful for him, but I am also furious that my kids still remember going there. That should not be a memory they carry. Nothing prepares you for betrayal by your own parents like that.

Now I'm here, with this man for 15 years, and married for 7. He is also an alcoholic and my mind has had enough. I recently had a flashback and that was the beginning of the end. It put me right back into the place I was when I left my first husband. I sleep in clothing, and I have lost so much weight. I don't know how to get out of this "thing." Our marriage isn't great. I think I want a separation, but I don't know what to think. I don't know what decisions are right and which are wrong anymore. I'm going through EMDR therapy, and I think my therapist is a genius, but I don't know. It's all scary.