Hello. I am uncertain where to start. Beginning to end may be enough to fill a novel. I can say my childhood was very nice. I am the youngest of three children. I have one bother & one sister. My parents divorced when I was twelve. I was also violently raped at that age, by a stranger, therefore losing my virginity.
I was raped multiple times by different people. I was also repeatedly raped by my first boyfriend who also beat me and force fed me drugs. The only rapist who was imprisioned was an illegal alien from Mexico. DNA evidence sealed his fate. My boyfriend came to the scene of the crime & as they had not asked for a description yet, questioned him. He had a traffic warrant, was arrested & jailed. I am skipping some information here to save time. He then told me I deserved to be raped, more abuse followed, & so on and so forth.
Later on I married & tried to have a family. My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage. My firstborn, died at 4 months of age from S.I.D.S. Without getting too graphic, he had passed in the night, & as he usually slept through the night, I had been asleep as well. Only to wake in the morning and find him. My husband knowing infant CPR thought he could help, and flipped him over. Words cannot describe what I saw. The next night I had a nightmare. That nightmare was brought to life in a scene in the movie Trainspotting, several years later. Which made my life much worse. Also very soon after my son passed my sister had a stillborn. We then each had two more children. I had a daughter and she, a son. Our children were emotionally close enough to be brother and sister. My son's death ended my first marriage. I remarried when my daughter was 2 years old. My second husband loved to play with my PTSD and terrorize me with scaring me until I would go cry in a corner for 20 minutes or so. His reason, he thought it was funny. He loved to do it because it amused him. This is one reason he is no longer my husband.
My father was killed in a flash flood August 13, 2003 His body was found and recovered 2 weeks after the fact.
My sister's son's biological father kidnapped him at the age of 7. When his father passed away, my sister's son was returned to her several years ago at the age of 16. He later committed suicide with a gun on 9/11. Police dectectives stated that it was related grief of losing a girlfriend.
Years ago during my second marriage, I did have psychological therapy coupled with Zoloft. For a few years. My psychologist/ psychiatrist team was outstanding. Taught me how to cope in healthy ways. I was diagnosed as having Severe Clinical Depression and PTSD.
This is leaving out a lot of situations, circumstances and other incidents. I am merely scratching the surface I'd say.
Most recently, in July of 2010 my mother passed from breast cancer in the hospital as I held her hand. She had Stage 4 Metastatic Breast Cancer. She never saw a doctor until 3 months before her death. She hid it from my family. Her breast was gone. It was not surgically removed. She passed 3 months after I took her to a doctor. She refused hospice and insisted only I care for her & visiting nurses. The nurses and I had to clean the, site.
After my mother's death, my sister was bed-ridden for a time, in a high risk pregnancy. (Before this pregnancy, she suffered a miscarriage.) I went to her and took care of her as well.
She now has a healthy 17 month old daughter. My daughter is now 20, and married to an Army man. He was also our neighbor and a childhood friend of my daughter.
This year I had another miscarriage, very early on. Coincedentally my daughter suffered one a month or so later. She called me first, before a doctor. I am not glad for my losses, but I was glad to be able to answer her questions and help her. To be able to empathize with her, understanding her fear and pain, and how to safely handle the situation. And to help her know what to expect. She did visit her doctor who confirmed it by the way.
There is so much more to say that is relevant. I understand also that I can claim no monopoly on claiming hard life , pain, fear, and loss. Especially as many others have had much harder, scarier lives. I could even be one of the lucky ones and not know it.
In January I will be 40 years of age. Sudden/ unexpected sounds still terrify me. Even if it is just my man quietly walking into the room behind me to ask, "Is there any coffee in the pantry?" But I can function. I cry when I need to. I don't blame myself for other's actions. I can laugh. But once in awhile, I don't understand why I can't just be a hermit who lives in a cave. Living off of the land.
This isn't who I am, but where I have been that has brought me here.
I was raped multiple times by different people. I was also repeatedly raped by my first boyfriend who also beat me and force fed me drugs. The only rapist who was imprisioned was an illegal alien from Mexico. DNA evidence sealed his fate. My boyfriend came to the scene of the crime & as they had not asked for a description yet, questioned him. He had a traffic warrant, was arrested & jailed. I am skipping some information here to save time. He then told me I deserved to be raped, more abuse followed, & so on and so forth.
Later on I married & tried to have a family. My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage. My firstborn, died at 4 months of age from S.I.D.S. Without getting too graphic, he had passed in the night, & as he usually slept through the night, I had been asleep as well. Only to wake in the morning and find him. My husband knowing infant CPR thought he could help, and flipped him over. Words cannot describe what I saw. The next night I had a nightmare. That nightmare was brought to life in a scene in the movie Trainspotting, several years later. Which made my life much worse. Also very soon after my son passed my sister had a stillborn. We then each had two more children. I had a daughter and she, a son. Our children were emotionally close enough to be brother and sister. My son's death ended my first marriage. I remarried when my daughter was 2 years old. My second husband loved to play with my PTSD and terrorize me with scaring me until I would go cry in a corner for 20 minutes or so. His reason, he thought it was funny. He loved to do it because it amused him. This is one reason he is no longer my husband.
My father was killed in a flash flood August 13, 2003 His body was found and recovered 2 weeks after the fact.
My sister's son's biological father kidnapped him at the age of 7. When his father passed away, my sister's son was returned to her several years ago at the age of 16. He later committed suicide with a gun on 9/11. Police dectectives stated that it was related grief of losing a girlfriend.
Years ago during my second marriage, I did have psychological therapy coupled with Zoloft. For a few years. My psychologist/ psychiatrist team was outstanding. Taught me how to cope in healthy ways. I was diagnosed as having Severe Clinical Depression and PTSD.
This is leaving out a lot of situations, circumstances and other incidents. I am merely scratching the surface I'd say.
Most recently, in July of 2010 my mother passed from breast cancer in the hospital as I held her hand. She had Stage 4 Metastatic Breast Cancer. She never saw a doctor until 3 months before her death. She hid it from my family. Her breast was gone. It was not surgically removed. She passed 3 months after I took her to a doctor. She refused hospice and insisted only I care for her & visiting nurses. The nurses and I had to clean the, site.
After my mother's death, my sister was bed-ridden for a time, in a high risk pregnancy. (Before this pregnancy, she suffered a miscarriage.) I went to her and took care of her as well.
She now has a healthy 17 month old daughter. My daughter is now 20, and married to an Army man. He was also our neighbor and a childhood friend of my daughter.
This year I had another miscarriage, very early on. Coincedentally my daughter suffered one a month or so later. She called me first, before a doctor. I am not glad for my losses, but I was glad to be able to answer her questions and help her. To be able to empathize with her, understanding her fear and pain, and how to safely handle the situation. And to help her know what to expect. She did visit her doctor who confirmed it by the way.
There is so much more to say that is relevant. I understand also that I can claim no monopoly on claiming hard life , pain, fear, and loss. Especially as many others have had much harder, scarier lives. I could even be one of the lucky ones and not know it.
In January I will be 40 years of age. Sudden/ unexpected sounds still terrify me. Even if it is just my man quietly walking into the room behind me to ask, "Is there any coffee in the pantry?" But I can function. I cry when I need to. I don't blame myself for other's actions. I can laugh. But once in awhile, I don't understand why I can't just be a hermit who lives in a cave. Living off of the land.
This isn't who I am, but where I have been that has brought me here.
