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Rorster Trauma Diary

Glad to hear you are the going to give antidepressants a try. Sometimes we are luck and the first one work. Sometimes it's a crap shoot. But I know what a difference I started to feel and I also felt like I could tackle my issues without being so overwhelmed.

There are no magic pills. Sometimes you will still be sad. But being sad is not the same as being depressed. Just be honest with those trying to help you and really hoping this works for you. Sending gentle hugs
Thank you 😊
Woke up in a flashback a couple days ago, fell into a depression that has not subsided. Mad and snappy. People are so shitty. Getting better, but I get worse when I'm around others who just don't give a f*ck.

Memory: one night I was wakened by my step-dad turned husband. He was freaking out. He had a nightmare and said the "demon" was still in the house and he was beside himself. He grabbed me and dragged me quickly outside to the patio, said he was saving me. We sat on the patio while he held his face in fear and me half asleep. Maybe 2am? His breathing was fast and he had been crying. I told him I was going to go inside, that it was safe, but he quietly, pathetically begged me not to, that the demon would get me. I told him it's ok, there is no demon. He was like a child, he trembled, clung to me and hid behind me as we walked into the apartment. I don't know what happened. I don't know why he turned into this state. It was 180 degree difference from his usual arrogant, all-knowing, fearless, controlling, manipulative personality. He did this twice over the years. Never knew what it was about or what caused him to be this way. In the morning, he would be back to his usual self.

I still remember his voice. It was so pathetic, tiny and begging. When he cried, I can feel his tears and their heat. There is a voice message he left me, begging me to come back to him. It kills me to hear someone in such despair. I have not deleted it and have not listened to it since his death. I'm scared to, afraid of the emotions it might bring up in me. But why do I have such compassion for someone who raped me and groomed me and took advantage of my vulnerability as a child whose parents were worthless in protecting and loving me?

I still can't believe he's actually dead. It's been two years but it feels like just yesterday I was with him, in person. I can still see him.
Took celexa for the first time tonight. Not sure what to expect. Hope nothing bad happens. The last time I took an antidepressant I had a bad panic attack. Not sure if it was the medicine or the circumstances though. I used to think I was allergic to sushi because I had some at a restaurant courtesy of my boss at the time, went back to the hotel room my stepdad/husband and I were renting (we were homeless) and developed hives. But later I found out it was my circumstance that gave me hives, not the sushi. My denial brain back then said it was the sushi because..well I was in denial.

I don't like taking medication but am on three pills now. One for birth control, one for acne and now one for depression. Which makes sense, I guess because my flashbacks are mainly depression.
@Rorster93 I take Celexa. I have no problems. Give it time to work, it takes a week or two before you start to notice a difference. If they started you on a low dose after a week or two if you don't feel better and are having no side effects let them know. Sometimes it takes a while to find the right dosage. Wishing you well with this, as we deserve to not be depressed all the time. Hang in here.
No side effects from the celexa so far. But the purpose of this medication is to face my trauma which is where this diary comes in.

My boyfriend has a dog that doesn't get along with people. Not his fault, he was trained that way. He used to take his dog to a particular place to be boarded because his dog became attached to the workers there, a certain female worker. Well now that his dog is used to me, I watch him for my boyfriend while he's out of town. Saves him a lot of money. Well this female worker messaged my bf asking when is he going to bring his dog by for a visit because this is her last week, she is leaving the country to go to college. He never brought his dog by but wished her well. Then he bragged about her to me saying she is a really great person, she will do well in college, she's naturally good with dogs and can run circles around the other staff. That did not sit well with me. He never talks about me to anyone, I'm "private" in his life. I know it's moreso protective of us that he doesn't talk about us to anyone but I mean, golly, he knew her before he knew me, why didn't they date? Is she not single? Is that why? Am I like second best? His second choice?

He knew something was wrong so he asked and I told him I was jealous. He laughed said I need to get over that and we moved on. It felt nice to be able to be jealous and him know about it. I was able to feel a negative emotion with him. Accusing him of infidelity with no evidence or mistreating him is crossing the line.

A few days later, I asked if he has taken his dog for one last visit, he said no, that he doesn't take his dog for visits, only to board and he doesn't need to board him. I asked if she left yet but she wasn't leaving until the end of the month. I mumbled that I wish she was gone already. He told me to be nice, she's 18 years old, a damn kid.

I didn't feel silly until later, delayed because her being 18 wouldn't matter to my stepdad/husband so it didn't mean anything to me at first. He would have still had an affair if it were possible. And this is also where my T says my mind has been groomed. I used to think 6 year olds could be in romantic relationships. She said 6 year olds can't be in romantic relationships, that's where I used to think I carried part of the blame for being raped and molested. But I had no fault because I was a child subject to the abuses of my caretakers. It was amazing to realize how warped my mind was/is.

I feel embarrassed and silly. There's nothing romantically interesting about an 18 year old going to college. At least I'm not jealous anymore which I'm considering a win. I'm in a different world, it seems. A world where child sexual abuse is not the norm, is not excused or hidden, it is instead brought to light and strongly persecuted.
When I was in middle school living with my grandparents, I would run the neighborhood with a group of kids that lived on my street. They were all siblings. We would ride bikes everywhere and play video games. None of them really liked me. They mainly liked my brother. I wanted to be best friends with the girl of the group but she only wanted to hang out when she needed some entertainment. If she was with other girls, she would bully me. When it was just her and I, she was my friend. She would always try to get me to do things I didn't want to do. Looking back, she nor any of them had a very good idea of me. There were a couple times where the whole group would bully me, make me cry, even their parents yelled at me. They would exploit information they found out about me, secrets would become known to humiliate me. They would do whatever they wanted. If I retaliated, they would go to their parents. I would be sent home with or without being yelled at. I couldn't tell my grandparents because my grandmother always wanted us to stay indoors anyway. Not sure where she got the idea that kids were supposed to stay inside but that was always her goal. Isolation with her. So it was more like trading shit for shit. Never a break. Either my grandmother or the kids down the street. When school started, I was bullied there by girls who were bigger and looked different than me. Principle didn't care.

I remember eventually becoming so resentful and angry with this girl that I would run her off every time I saw her. I was mean to her and almost pushed her off her bike. She became scared of me and avoided me like the plague. Her and her family moved away and sold the house. I lost contact but my brother stays in touch. I'm okay with not knowing them anymore for the rest of my life.

That was life back then. During the week, get bullied at school, go home to a screaming psychopath, go outside to escape said psychopath only to be bullied by my "friends" down the street. Then, on the weekends, go to my mom's house to be emotionally voided by her and molested by my stepfather.

Fast forward to my early twenties. My husband/former step-father always brought me around his family, insisted I go. I rarely saw my own family but I saw his every week. Not sure why he wanted me around them, they didn't like me either. Their issue was I was not blood, therefore, I was not as important or accepted. He had a niece that was my age. We used to be friends when we were younger, grew apart. But she was always favored while I was pitied. It was a favor to me to let me into the house, to sit on the porch. I was in the company of more important people because I wasn't related to anyone, I was an outsider. His mother, his aunt and his youngest sister made it very clear to me that I wasn't family even though we were married. That didn't mean anything to them not even when he was dying. I used to be jealous of his niece for the acceptance she was given due to being born in this certain family. But I lost the jealousy when I became aware of its toxic dynamic. Now, I only have hope that she can break free. But the last time I saw her, she was fully entrenched.

I feel like all my life I was always the less than. The one who was not as good as the people around me.

My step-mother agrees. She told me even my dad favored her children over my brother and me. It's strange though. My father's blood runs through my veins, my brother's veins and my half siblings veins yet my half siblings have no problem thinking very highly of themselves. Why can't I of myself?

Maybe it's because when they were 13, their step-father didn't put on a pink dress and make them stick a dildo up his ass. But who am I to judge..

Sometimes I wonder what I would have been like had I not grown up in so much toxicity at every angle. What accomplishments would I have achieved, would I have had kids, would I have gone places, what I would have experienced, seen. Who would I have been had my brain not developed on trauma.
I've been taking my antidepressant for two weeks now. Not sure if that's long enough for it to start working but lately I've felt more emotionally stable. I still feel depressed at times but have not thought about suicide and it's easier to get through. One of the reasons for this medication is to help me write about my trauma but I have not been on here and feel a bit further from it right now. I've been staying with my boyfriend a lot. Maybe I'm like others who have PTSD, my symptoms are suppressed when I'm in a loving relationship with a non-abusive partner. I am back at my apartment now only because my bf gets on my nerves sometimes and I still like my apartment. Due to go back to his house today though.

Not sure what the rules are, is this like antibiotics where you must write even though you're feeling better? Does this mean my brain is chemically imbalanced because the medicine is working?

Maybe writing is a bit of self care...well I do have a trip coming up with my boyfriend who is not affectionate to anyone but his dog. I love traveling but long car rides and being away from my familiar stomping ground gives me anxiety. I think it's because I am far away from my known resources, like I know where the hospital is, who to talk to, where things are if I need fuel and food. Where I can run to if shit hits the fan. When I'm at a far away place, I get anxiety thinking about how far I am and can't just drive back. I tell myself that being in an unfamiliar place does not mean I am in danger and there are resources and people here, in this unfamiliar place, just like back at home. Home is always there. It will be there today, and it will be there tomorrow. It sucks when traveling makes you feel like you're stuck in this foreign place and you can't escape back to safety. But what in this foreign place makes me unsafe? I still travel because I'm not going to let my disorder control my life and miss out on opportunities to go places and see things. It's just the anxiety, but I guess that's something that can be managed.

There's always a worry that I will have a panic attack and embarrass myself in front of my boyfriend or the people I'm traveling with. They would view me differently and think I'm weak, they would pity me like I'm handicapped but I'm not, I've just lived a not so pleasant life before and know what fear is. And I've learned that that is not an uncommon thing. So why the judgement? I think it might have something to do with every time I showed fear or expressed that I was afraid, my stepdad/husband would roll his eyes. He never took me seriously. And my mother never took me seriously either. No one did. So showing fear was judged to be weak. I remember when I had my first panic attack, it was brutal. I was in bed and could not stop shaking even though I wasn't cold. I got on his nerves, he threw the Bible at me while I sobbed from the anxiety and rolled over in bed, disgusted with me that I was having a mental breakdown as though I could control it.

Long car rides, I can swing. But when someone else is driving. I feel like I don't have control of my situation and I'm stuck. Like when my stepdad/husband would rage drive with loud music blaring. I was helpless in the passenger seat, just waiting for it to end. And then I hated it when he would go off course. Then I would have no idea where he was going or when he would stop. The night I told him I wanted a divorce, he knew his driving scared me. We were at a restaurant and left to go home. He said he was okay with it, but while we were driving, he passed the turn towards the apartment and just kept driving faster and faster while yelling at me, "if this is what you really want, if this is what you think is best", I begged him to just take me home. I hated it.

I hated when the sky would darken, when dusk came, all the colors as the earth turned away from the sun "God took a paint brush and painted the sky" yeah like when you hallucinate before you die and see all the colors of the f*cking rainbow.

My stepdad/husband made life miserable. I think about him every single day. My brother once told me I have Stockholm syndrome. Of course I denied it. But now I think he might be right. Even after he's dead, I still think about him, sad that he died, can't believe he's really dead. Sometimes I feel like one of these days I'm going to receive a text saying, "thought you got rid of me for good, huh bitch? I'm never going away" it would not surprise me if that person faked their own death.

But he is dead. I have his death certificate. I had a dream where I heard his voice. I remember his voice. Plain as day. In a way I guess my imagination is right, he is never going away. He will always be with me.
It surprises me sometimes what I used to consider love. When he threw the Bible at me, I thanked him. When he was gambling all our money away and refused to stop, I closed the bank account to save what little money we had left. At the end of the day, I apologized for doing that when I shouldn't have. If I didn't, he would have just kept raging. There was no getting sleep. Asked myself if I was really sincerely sorry. I had to make myself believe I was. Because that was protecting myself from the reality of my situation. I was the bad guy. He was the good guy just trying to provide for me. And I was just ungrateful. I'm a pushover. The one subject to the other's purpose and desire. Don't have a voice. If I have a voice, my partner will just leave and then I will be abandoned.

My boyfriend tells me I act like I'm never going to see him again when I go back to my apartment. Things are not to extreme, my T says. It's hard though. I never put my foot down in a relationship. I'm scared it will end things.
You are doing great writing in your diary. There are no rules. Write or don't write.

If you have something you want to get out of your head then write. It's your space to figure things out. To put your feelings and thoughts.

Glad to hear you feel the meds are working.

You are doing great. Don't worry about your diary. Use it when you need to.
You are doing great writing in your diary. There are no rules. Write or don't write.

If you have something you want to get out of your head then write. It's your space to figure things out. To put your feelings and thoughts.

Glad to hear you feel the meds are working.

You are doing great. Don't worry about your diary. Use it when you need to.
Thank you 😊
My mom and dad got married very young and had me and my brother. They divorced and my dad married his second wife, had two kids with her. They divorced, and my dad married his third wife and had three kids with her. My dad was mainly in his third wife's kids lives because his first and second wives wouldn't allow him in our lives, so he knew them better.

As I got older, I looked for my dad but could not find him. All the while my mother was in contact with his third wife who was in contact with him but would tell me she didn't know where he was.

My mother called me one day to tell me my dad died of a heart attack the previous day. I was devastated. Fueled my first real consideration of suicide and I ended up in the hospital.

At the time of my dad's death, he was single, divorced. His next of kin were his children and the only ones of age were my brother and I. I was completely in the dark about how many kids my dad had at the time, my mother would never give me a straight answer.

I decided to give my dad a proper burial. I wanted him to be whole in one grave in the family plot. My brother didn't care, or he cared in his own way. His main concern was doing our mother's bidding.

My dad had a girlfriend who claimed to be engaged to my dad and thought she was entitled to half of his ashes despite him having 7 kids. Well, my brother believed her and said I was selfish for being skeptical. I'm sorry but she only spoke to my mother and brother because her plan to convince the funeral home to give her custody of dad's body behind our backs fell through. It was ridiculous.

During this whole time and even after the burial I searched for my other siblings. I was not heavy into social media at the time. I found some abandoned Facebook pages and sent messages to them but never got a response.

My brother asked me to give him half of dad's ashes, that he wanted them for himself. I said ok and called the funeral home to ask them if they could put the ashes in two containers. The funeral coordinator said, "sure, your mother called and said that yall wanted to give half to his girlfriend." I said, no, it was for my brother. There was a silence and the coordinator told me she would do whatever I wanted so I told her to just keep him whole, to not split the ashes.

I buried him in the family plot. My brother wouldn't speak to me for a while.

After the funeral, I found my half sister. She and her brothers hated me because her mother (my dad's third wife) told them that I intentionally left them out of the funeral when the whole time I was trying to find them to include them. I found my dad's third wife's number and called her to give her the location of the cemetery. After she wrote it down, she told me that she's been talking to my mother so she knows I'm lying about wanting to include them and that her kids were my dad's favorite and they should have been the ones to have his ashes because they were his favorite. My half sister told me the same and that I was not family.

This hurt me deeply.

After that, my half sister and I still follow each other on social media. She and one of her brother's contacted me asking for where "their" dad was buried. I gave them the location and told them I gave it to their mother and asked it she was keeping it from them. My half sister of course denied it.

One of brothers asked for my brother's phone number. I gave it to him. He called my brother wanting to come visit him so my brother gave him his address but he never came.

My dad's third wife then went onto Facebook and publicly told my great aunts on my dad's side that she was filing for abandonment so she could take custody of the body but that stopped when I claimed him and that I intentionally left them out of the funeral and said I was just this horrible person. What she didn't know was that my great aunts literally sat across from me in person while I looked for them on the internet. So both my great aunts went to my defense and publicly shot her down so she blocked them.

My T says I did nothing wrong. It just hurts that my half siblings want nothing to do with me and believe all these lies about me. Now when I find a picture of dad, I'll send it to my half sister. She'll happily accept it. She's even sent me a video of her dog one time but never responded when I asked what his name was. She recently posted pictures of her brother and her brother's new baby. I commented saying how much her brother looks like dad. She just deleted my comment. If she wants nothing to do with me, why does she still follow me? My boyfriend doesn't care about them. He considers my brother that I grew up with my only sibling. My brother has even said he doesn't consider them family and that I'm his only sibling. Why do I care so much? Why am I the only one that cares? Is there something wrong with me? Why am I the only one afraid to let go?

I feel like if I let them go, it's like letting a piece of my dad go. When I see their faces, I can see dad in them. It's been years and this still makes me cry.

I thought about severing ties completely, though, because any interaction with them is painful. Not sure. Being kind to myself. Nothings wrong with me, I'm just in pain like everyone who has lost someone.
Hard for me to connect with people and socialize. My circle is very small. Wish it was bigger. I like to go out and do things. I'm finding that I like the outdoors. But I'm just too reserved. And when I get triggered I can be rude. It's not anyone's fault and I know I'm not supposed to use my disorder as an excuse to be rude, but sometimes it happens so fast I can't control it.

I'm with my boyfriend's friends who I've never met. One guy is drinking and didn't pay attention to me so I didn't think anything about it. We are over at his camp and he kinda randomly came up on me and stuck his hand out and introduced himself. I didn't shake his hand but told him my name. My bf griped at me later for it. I'm sorry but there was no notice, I could smell the alcohol and alcohol and men = violence. He's not even a bad guy, gave me a ride on his boat back to the camp.

Since then I just don't think I click with some of his friends and let the ones who are friendly to me down. I let my boyfriend down. He loves me but sometimes I think he deserves better, someone who doesn't have the issues I do.

Maybe I should break up with him. Save him from wasting his time. And then he can find someone who doesn't have PTSD.