Hello..I'm starting a trauma diary for exposure therapy and to also tell about my experiences since I have a hard time sharing in person to others. My experiences include rape and molestation of a child (me).
I don't have a point system, my trauma spans years of chronic abuse. The short version is that I was raped by my stepdad when I was 6 years old. My mother found out and hid him from the law while my brother and I were left to foster care and my grandparents. After my grandparents were awarded temporary custody, we would go to my mother's house on the weekends where my stepdad would continue to molest and groom me. Some of the things he made me do to him were awful. He beat me down emotionally, punished me for talking to boys at school, made me feel ugly and fat so I wouldn't want to talk to them. Later we found out the child molestation charges were dropped after years of hiding him.
My mother found out he was still molesting me and blamed me, called me every name in the book, physically assaulted me and blamed me for the demise of their marriage. The family split up, my mother went one way, brother went with my mom and then into the military and my stepdad rented an apartment, said he was leaving with or without me. He told me he was the only one who loved me and I believed him because look at my mother and my grandmother. No one else was around so I went with him, scared of being on my own in this big scary world. Had to hide in his apartment because I was underage, married him when I was 21 and the abuse continued, mentally and emotionally. Developed anorexia. He would deliberately deprive me of sleep and make it so unbearable for me I would beg him for forgiveness even though I was not in the wrong, for whatever made him mad. And it was super stressful when he drank because that was the time when he would become physically abusive. There was no telling him not to drink because he was "a grown man" and there was no telling when he would switch from a happy drunk to a violent one.
My father died, I was still struggling with it after two years because my stepdad and mother would tell me awful things about him and his vices. They would tell me he loved me one day but hated me or didn't care about me the next day, depending on their mood. But it was comical to my stepdad, he didn't understand why I cared so much. I tried to commit suicide two years after dad passed away, spent time in the mental ward of a hospital, diagnosed with depression. Got out, attempted to go to therapy but we never had the money. Called a hotline, told my story anonymously, an appointment was made for me for domestic violence victims, for some reason my stepdad (now husband) persuaded me not to go and went with me in person to cancel my appointment.
I was not allowed to know about our finances. We were in massive credit cart debt, all in my name. But I could never help because he said I was too stupid, absent-minded and was worried that I would forget to make a payment and cost us more money so he should just do it and would give me an allowance, I should be thankful but instead I was ungrateful for questioning him on his financial decisions. He was smart and I wasn't. I was just an ungrateful brat I guess.
Began to question if this was really how my life was supposed to be. Was this it? To be at someone else's beck and call for the rest of my life, no relief until death? Was this my life's purpose? Could there be something more? Why was I so scared to venture on my own? I needed him.
I left him and filed for divorce. I was diagnosed with PTSD and have been trying to recover ever since. He decided to f*cking die in a car wreck. So he's dead now which is really, still, hard to believe.
This turned from a short version to an all out trauma dump. I feel very angry and upset. Perhaps that's the point, I don't know. There's a whole lot more but think I'm done for now. Thank you for reading if you did.
I don't have a point system, my trauma spans years of chronic abuse. The short version is that I was raped by my stepdad when I was 6 years old. My mother found out and hid him from the law while my brother and I were left to foster care and my grandparents. After my grandparents were awarded temporary custody, we would go to my mother's house on the weekends where my stepdad would continue to molest and groom me. Some of the things he made me do to him were awful. He beat me down emotionally, punished me for talking to boys at school, made me feel ugly and fat so I wouldn't want to talk to them. Later we found out the child molestation charges were dropped after years of hiding him.
My mother found out he was still molesting me and blamed me, called me every name in the book, physically assaulted me and blamed me for the demise of their marriage. The family split up, my mother went one way, brother went with my mom and then into the military and my stepdad rented an apartment, said he was leaving with or without me. He told me he was the only one who loved me and I believed him because look at my mother and my grandmother. No one else was around so I went with him, scared of being on my own in this big scary world. Had to hide in his apartment because I was underage, married him when I was 21 and the abuse continued, mentally and emotionally. Developed anorexia. He would deliberately deprive me of sleep and make it so unbearable for me I would beg him for forgiveness even though I was not in the wrong, for whatever made him mad. And it was super stressful when he drank because that was the time when he would become physically abusive. There was no telling him not to drink because he was "a grown man" and there was no telling when he would switch from a happy drunk to a violent one.
My father died, I was still struggling with it after two years because my stepdad and mother would tell me awful things about him and his vices. They would tell me he loved me one day but hated me or didn't care about me the next day, depending on their mood. But it was comical to my stepdad, he didn't understand why I cared so much. I tried to commit suicide two years after dad passed away, spent time in the mental ward of a hospital, diagnosed with depression. Got out, attempted to go to therapy but we never had the money. Called a hotline, told my story anonymously, an appointment was made for me for domestic violence victims, for some reason my stepdad (now husband) persuaded me not to go and went with me in person to cancel my appointment.
I was not allowed to know about our finances. We were in massive credit cart debt, all in my name. But I could never help because he said I was too stupid, absent-minded and was worried that I would forget to make a payment and cost us more money so he should just do it and would give me an allowance, I should be thankful but instead I was ungrateful for questioning him on his financial decisions. He was smart and I wasn't. I was just an ungrateful brat I guess.
Began to question if this was really how my life was supposed to be. Was this it? To be at someone else's beck and call for the rest of my life, no relief until death? Was this my life's purpose? Could there be something more? Why was I so scared to venture on my own? I needed him.
I left him and filed for divorce. I was diagnosed with PTSD and have been trying to recover ever since. He decided to f*cking die in a car wreck. So he's dead now which is really, still, hard to believe.
This turned from a short version to an all out trauma dump. I feel very angry and upset. Perhaps that's the point, I don't know. There's a whole lot more but think I'm done for now. Thank you for reading if you did.
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