G
Greta
Hello, this is my first time here. I am an adult survivor of physical and mental child abuse. I'm in my very early 40s, but it feels like I never started to live until 6 years ago when I started eliminating the abusers from my life. No one who's in my family of origin seems to understand that it's not a grudge. I don't wish these people ill—as they were my parents, sister and step parents. And I actually miss my biological relatives and my stepmom.
However, I have a child to protect—from them and from the person I become when they are around and trying to play their games. Contrary to what most of the world thinks (including a lot of people who remain in abusive families) child abuse doesn't always end with adulthood. It just morphs into another ugly form, but I digress...
I'm not here to get drawn into the past. I would like to walk away from it...or at least learn how to more regularly put a stop to my PTSD when it starts to interfere with me being present with my loved ones. I dissociate terribly on holidays and many times on weekends unless I make a huge effort to be aware of myself (which can be extraordinarily draining).
The worst are my birthday and Mother's Day. My father kidnapped me on my birthday to force custody. My mom gave up then. It wasn't just fear. For years, she enabled my father's abuse after that birthday even though she left him herself. I grew up afraid for my life and afraid of people. I felt like I was surrounded by a brick wall with one brick out of it. This fear was probably my savior though. If I had not been so shut off from other people in my teens and early 20s, I probably would have had the resources to experiment and become addicted to some kind of drug or alcohol. A few therapists I've seen tell me most people like me do.
On my 37th birthday, the wall started to come down. My mom insisted we visit her to celebrate at her house, we had got into an argument, and I tried to leave with my husband and daughter—who was still a toddler. My stepfather started to scream at me, and he attacked me in front of my family. My husband pulled him off of. I was in hysterics. We all were. When we got to the car, I kept crying and apologizing, but my husband demanded I stop apologizing. He pointed out there was nothing normal or justifiable about what my stepfather did. It then came down like a boulder on my chest. My childhood was not my fault. My stepfather had done these things all throughout my tweens and teens, but it was all him. I wasn't some wild child. Other than bad grades (depression is marvelous for that) I was no trouble at school. I never got into fights, I didn't skip classes, and I never gave the teachers any trouble.
My husband, my daughter, and myself... We all had some form of trauma from that day, but I was falling apart. It was like my past invaded my present and I was forced to see how ugly my childhood was. I always blamed myself... They made sure of that. It actually felt safe to take all the fault... But when I realized it was never my fault, it was a terrifying feeling. It was like my whole world had been turned upside down. I felt so vulnerable and broken.
My husband encouraged me to look for help. I interviewed about 8 therapists. Ironically, the one who was the best was free through a county-paid program. I spent a year in therapy. It was so very hard, but—oh—it was so necessary. For the first time I could actually start to see myself.
It's been a number of years since then. I feel more whole than I ever have. My husband and I are happier together than ever...of anything in my life I feel our relationship is the best. He is kind and funny (about the right things)—and while he's no doormat—he doesn't have a cruel bone in his body. And I have actually made friends... Real friends... The kind who are good people who are sane, have boundaries, and—yet—would take a bullet for you.
But I'm still not completely happy.
First, I miss my family of origin. Going back, however, is not an option (I can't even begin to discuss all my biological father has done). I'd like to confront my mom one more time, but I don't expect it to go anywhere or to change her. She is so damaged. I could love her as is (her criticizing, narcissistic tendencies and all), but my stepfather is simply too dangerous and not at all someone who belongs in our lives. I don't want my kid growing up thinking violence and nasty people are normal and part of life. But my mom doesn't understand nor respect that.
My biological father is also very dangerous for many other reasons. I don't believe I'll ever see him again and don't intend to. This doesn't keep me from missing him and remembering good parts about him when I was a child. He was seeing a therapist himself when we parted ways. I genuinely hope he finds peace and healing even though I will never risk my family's safety trusting him again.
My sister was headed down the same road as my biological father. She abused her ex's child, and was showing abusiveness towards her new baby son. After she tore into me for cutting off our father (when she herself has come close to it for many lesser reasons), I didn't have the heart to keep contact with her.
These are all things I realize only time will heal...and just like people who lose their family to death—I will always feel some sadness. The big difference is there are a very limited number of people I trust to talk about it with and I don't like to do it too much. It's depressing, and if I'm not careful I just keep repeating the same things over again.
So that comes to my second problem... I want to stop dissociating. I space out. Sometimes I relive the past in my head or sometimes I worry about scary things that could happen in the future. Sometimes I compulsively shop. Sometimes I pick my skin. Sometimes I just lay in bed tired and angry.
This isn't working well anymore. I want to be able to be present for my beautiful family during times we really should be bonding the most anyhow—on weekends and holidays. Distraction used to be the only thing that worked. Well, the problem is with a small child, a house, pets, and other responsibilities, taking trips away from your home all the time isn't really a great answer, is it? Exercise is fantastic, but there are times in life (like when I had lyme disease last year) where it's hard to go for a run.
So here I am. To vent. To talk with others. To maybe get ideas on things that could work through this. I'm starting to pay attention to triggers, but sometimes they sneak right by. Also, seeing my little girl coming to an age I was when the abuse really started to pile on is like a big trigger in itself, but I need to be here for her.
So here I am.
If you have read this far into my mighty wall of text, hello and thank you.
However, I have a child to protect—from them and from the person I become when they are around and trying to play their games. Contrary to what most of the world thinks (including a lot of people who remain in abusive families) child abuse doesn't always end with adulthood. It just morphs into another ugly form, but I digress...
I'm not here to get drawn into the past. I would like to walk away from it...or at least learn how to more regularly put a stop to my PTSD when it starts to interfere with me being present with my loved ones. I dissociate terribly on holidays and many times on weekends unless I make a huge effort to be aware of myself (which can be extraordinarily draining).
The worst are my birthday and Mother's Day. My father kidnapped me on my birthday to force custody. My mom gave up then. It wasn't just fear. For years, she enabled my father's abuse after that birthday even though she left him herself. I grew up afraid for my life and afraid of people. I felt like I was surrounded by a brick wall with one brick out of it. This fear was probably my savior though. If I had not been so shut off from other people in my teens and early 20s, I probably would have had the resources to experiment and become addicted to some kind of drug or alcohol. A few therapists I've seen tell me most people like me do.
On my 37th birthday, the wall started to come down. My mom insisted we visit her to celebrate at her house, we had got into an argument, and I tried to leave with my husband and daughter—who was still a toddler. My stepfather started to scream at me, and he attacked me in front of my family. My husband pulled him off of. I was in hysterics. We all were. When we got to the car, I kept crying and apologizing, but my husband demanded I stop apologizing. He pointed out there was nothing normal or justifiable about what my stepfather did. It then came down like a boulder on my chest. My childhood was not my fault. My stepfather had done these things all throughout my tweens and teens, but it was all him. I wasn't some wild child. Other than bad grades (depression is marvelous for that) I was no trouble at school. I never got into fights, I didn't skip classes, and I never gave the teachers any trouble.
My husband, my daughter, and myself... We all had some form of trauma from that day, but I was falling apart. It was like my past invaded my present and I was forced to see how ugly my childhood was. I always blamed myself... They made sure of that. It actually felt safe to take all the fault... But when I realized it was never my fault, it was a terrifying feeling. It was like my whole world had been turned upside down. I felt so vulnerable and broken.
My husband encouraged me to look for help. I interviewed about 8 therapists. Ironically, the one who was the best was free through a county-paid program. I spent a year in therapy. It was so very hard, but—oh—it was so necessary. For the first time I could actually start to see myself.
It's been a number of years since then. I feel more whole than I ever have. My husband and I are happier together than ever...of anything in my life I feel our relationship is the best. He is kind and funny (about the right things)—and while he's no doormat—he doesn't have a cruel bone in his body. And I have actually made friends... Real friends... The kind who are good people who are sane, have boundaries, and—yet—would take a bullet for you.
But I'm still not completely happy.
First, I miss my family of origin. Going back, however, is not an option (I can't even begin to discuss all my biological father has done). I'd like to confront my mom one more time, but I don't expect it to go anywhere or to change her. She is so damaged. I could love her as is (her criticizing, narcissistic tendencies and all), but my stepfather is simply too dangerous and not at all someone who belongs in our lives. I don't want my kid growing up thinking violence and nasty people are normal and part of life. But my mom doesn't understand nor respect that.
My biological father is also very dangerous for many other reasons. I don't believe I'll ever see him again and don't intend to. This doesn't keep me from missing him and remembering good parts about him when I was a child. He was seeing a therapist himself when we parted ways. I genuinely hope he finds peace and healing even though I will never risk my family's safety trusting him again.
My sister was headed down the same road as my biological father. She abused her ex's child, and was showing abusiveness towards her new baby son. After she tore into me for cutting off our father (when she herself has come close to it for many lesser reasons), I didn't have the heart to keep contact with her.
These are all things I realize only time will heal...and just like people who lose their family to death—I will always feel some sadness. The big difference is there are a very limited number of people I trust to talk about it with and I don't like to do it too much. It's depressing, and if I'm not careful I just keep repeating the same things over again.
So that comes to my second problem... I want to stop dissociating. I space out. Sometimes I relive the past in my head or sometimes I worry about scary things that could happen in the future. Sometimes I compulsively shop. Sometimes I pick my skin. Sometimes I just lay in bed tired and angry.
This isn't working well anymore. I want to be able to be present for my beautiful family during times we really should be bonding the most anyhow—on weekends and holidays. Distraction used to be the only thing that worked. Well, the problem is with a small child, a house, pets, and other responsibilities, taking trips away from your home all the time isn't really a great answer, is it? Exercise is fantastic, but there are times in life (like when I had lyme disease last year) where it's hard to go for a run.
So here I am. To vent. To talk with others. To maybe get ideas on things that could work through this. I'm starting to pay attention to triggers, but sometimes they sneak right by. Also, seeing my little girl coming to an age I was when the abuse really started to pile on is like a big trigger in itself, but I need to be here for her.
So here I am.
If you have read this far into my mighty wall of text, hello and thank you.
