Hey all! I'm new. First off, I wanted to thank all of you who have been here a while for your courage and vulnerability on this forum. Reading some of your stories has been such a huge encouragement and support for me. :) You are all so incredibly brave and amazing.
I'm 18 and just finishing my first semester at an amazing college. My childhood was pretty normal - or so I thought for a long time. I was raised in a very sheltered, religious, conservative home, was homeschooled for most of my life, and my parents are overall good parents.
I was pretty isolated until high school, when I bonded extremely closely with my first best friend. Unfortunately she completely abandoned me, spreading hateful lies about me and giving me the silent treatment. It's been two years now and no amount of desperate and suicidal pleading has made her talk to me again.
The rest of high school after she left me was tremendously lonely. At home I was witnessing horrible traumatic dogfights between our two beloved dogs at home and at one point was badly bitten trying to break them up. I was struggling to apply for colleges and was being hugely pressured to achieve good scholarships. I constantly felt that the message my parents were inadvertently sending me was "try harder, you're not good enough, the amount of financial aid we receive equals your worth as a human being."
About a year ago, in November or December, I broke two bones in my pelvis from a horseback riding fall and this was the ultimate trigger for my depression. By January I was self-harming badly several times a day and scared to death because I had no idea what was wrong with me. My friend's betrayal was just then hitting me and I was in a bad state.
February through May I was severely depressed and increasingly suicidal. And to top it off, I learned that ALL of my close friends (not some, but all) were suffering from some severe mental illness. I was trying to be a support for everyone and inside I was crumbling but felt I could not ask for help.
Finally I told my parents and started seeing a therapist and psychiatrist. The rest of the summer was a nightmare mentally and physically. I was put on Lexapro which made me so sick I could barely function and I learned the hard way that I am very sensitive to medication. At this time I was also severely anemic, plus a whole host of other problems. Physical complications kept arising (I think it was something like 53 doctor's appointments/procedures in 3 months?). At one point I was given an ECG, totally flipped out when they tried to stick the sensors around my breasts, and was rushed to the hospital thinking I had a heart condition when it was really just because my poor heart was beating out of my chest because I felt so terrified and violated. I lost 40 pounds and half my hair during this time. The next few antidepressants had terrible side effects. I finally landed on Wellbutrin as I was starting college and I initially thought it was helping, but it really just made me an anxious, aggressive, and really nasty person.
By this time my depression was so severe I was regularly considering either checking myself into the hospital or killing myself, even as I was struggling to get through the first few weeks of college. I was also suffering from depersonalization, intense anxiety and panic, insomnia, OCD, found out I had BPD... the list goes on. Once I got off Wellbutrin though I was a considerably clearer-minded person. I have since signed a suicide contract and while things are not better, they're certainly safer because of that.
And finally, the abuse... It came up really suddenly, only about a month ago. One night I really felt like harming myself and I finally just started to cry and I kept asking and praying, God, why? Why do I want to do this to myself? Why do I feel this way?! I didn't get my answer then, but what I did get were four overwhelmingly powerful words: I love you anyway. At the time I didn't understand what He meant by "anyway," but in hindsight I know He was preparing me for what I was about to learn and that it was imperative I knew first and foremost I was loved.
A week or so later, my mom had driven up to see me because she had herself convinced I was bulimic (I'm not) and confronted me about it. I assured her I wasn't, feeling a little annoyed, and I guess she finally believed me. She then asked if anything traumatic had ever happened to me when I was little. She's asked this before, so I just waved her off and said no, no, I've already told you. Then she said, "I was just thinking about ______." The moment she said his name I felt this gut-wrenching, sickening horror rise up inside me. I kept saying no and kept my calm until I could get somewhere alone and then I broke down.
At first there were no memories except that terrible feeling where you just know. It's like when something awful has happened, and you wake up the next morning and for a few seconds everything's sleepy and fine, and then it just hits you. You know?
I googled something like "adult symptoms of childhood sexual abuse" and as I was reading the list I felt like I was reading my life story. I was in shock.
He was our next-door neighbor from the time I was about 2-5 years old. I remembered who he was, from my parents talking about him, but not him, really. I guess I had just never put his name and "traumatic event" together until that moment. I have zero memory of seeing him, being with him, or even the house we lived in at that time, even though I have other memories of other people and places I saw far less often from that same time period.
He was an older man who lived alone and my parents adopted him as a sort of grandfather figure for us. He was very friendly to the family and would always bring me gifts and ice cream, and I know there were several times I was alone with him. When he moved away, it was abrupt and unexplained, and we never knew the reason his family apparently ostracized him (a secret scandal?). To the best of my knowledge he is now dead. Still trying to process that, obviously.
I was in doubt at first because I have no real visual memories of the abuse. I can feel them slowly creeping in - I can remember his porch, his living room, and vaguely his face, and a few other tiny details - and I have had many nightmares, but nothing solid enough that a facts-oriented person like me could feel validated. Nobody wants to believe that this could have ever happened to them and I was resistant for several days, but finally I just knew. I have since had all sorts of frequent and undeniable flashbacks, save visual. I know that the visual memories and others will come with time when I am ready.
I have told only my therapist and my parents, the latter at my therapist's advice. When I called my mom she was shaken and in denial. She kept offering alternate explanations for all the symptoms I listed and finally said something like "Well, I don't want you to jump to conclusions, so I'm not gonna really believe this unless you have real convincing proof." I swallowed my hurt and said flatly "I need you to believe me." She amended her remark and said she believed me, but it was unconvincing.
My dad texted me the next day with a very kind and loving message. But my mom has been... absolutely horrible towards me since. I won't elaborate now, but let's just say that all of my flatmates are so excited to go home for Christmas next week and I am dreading it because I am afraid of my mother and the harm her words do to me. Even now I'm up at 2am because I'm so afraid of the inevitable nightmares.
I know now that I was sexually abused - if, on the off chance, not by that neighbor, then by someone else. But I'm definitely still at the very beginning of this journey, haha.
Thanks for reading. Blessings to you all!
Ryn
I'm 18 and just finishing my first semester at an amazing college. My childhood was pretty normal - or so I thought for a long time. I was raised in a very sheltered, religious, conservative home, was homeschooled for most of my life, and my parents are overall good parents.
I was pretty isolated until high school, when I bonded extremely closely with my first best friend. Unfortunately she completely abandoned me, spreading hateful lies about me and giving me the silent treatment. It's been two years now and no amount of desperate and suicidal pleading has made her talk to me again.
The rest of high school after she left me was tremendously lonely. At home I was witnessing horrible traumatic dogfights between our two beloved dogs at home and at one point was badly bitten trying to break them up. I was struggling to apply for colleges and was being hugely pressured to achieve good scholarships. I constantly felt that the message my parents were inadvertently sending me was "try harder, you're not good enough, the amount of financial aid we receive equals your worth as a human being."
About a year ago, in November or December, I broke two bones in my pelvis from a horseback riding fall and this was the ultimate trigger for my depression. By January I was self-harming badly several times a day and scared to death because I had no idea what was wrong with me. My friend's betrayal was just then hitting me and I was in a bad state.
February through May I was severely depressed and increasingly suicidal. And to top it off, I learned that ALL of my close friends (not some, but all) were suffering from some severe mental illness. I was trying to be a support for everyone and inside I was crumbling but felt I could not ask for help.
Finally I told my parents and started seeing a therapist and psychiatrist. The rest of the summer was a nightmare mentally and physically. I was put on Lexapro which made me so sick I could barely function and I learned the hard way that I am very sensitive to medication. At this time I was also severely anemic, plus a whole host of other problems. Physical complications kept arising (I think it was something like 53 doctor's appointments/procedures in 3 months?). At one point I was given an ECG, totally flipped out when they tried to stick the sensors around my breasts, and was rushed to the hospital thinking I had a heart condition when it was really just because my poor heart was beating out of my chest because I felt so terrified and violated. I lost 40 pounds and half my hair during this time. The next few antidepressants had terrible side effects. I finally landed on Wellbutrin as I was starting college and I initially thought it was helping, but it really just made me an anxious, aggressive, and really nasty person.
By this time my depression was so severe I was regularly considering either checking myself into the hospital or killing myself, even as I was struggling to get through the first few weeks of college. I was also suffering from depersonalization, intense anxiety and panic, insomnia, OCD, found out I had BPD... the list goes on. Once I got off Wellbutrin though I was a considerably clearer-minded person. I have since signed a suicide contract and while things are not better, they're certainly safer because of that.
And finally, the abuse... It came up really suddenly, only about a month ago. One night I really felt like harming myself and I finally just started to cry and I kept asking and praying, God, why? Why do I want to do this to myself? Why do I feel this way?! I didn't get my answer then, but what I did get were four overwhelmingly powerful words: I love you anyway. At the time I didn't understand what He meant by "anyway," but in hindsight I know He was preparing me for what I was about to learn and that it was imperative I knew first and foremost I was loved.
A week or so later, my mom had driven up to see me because she had herself convinced I was bulimic (I'm not) and confronted me about it. I assured her I wasn't, feeling a little annoyed, and I guess she finally believed me. She then asked if anything traumatic had ever happened to me when I was little. She's asked this before, so I just waved her off and said no, no, I've already told you. Then she said, "I was just thinking about ______." The moment she said his name I felt this gut-wrenching, sickening horror rise up inside me. I kept saying no and kept my calm until I could get somewhere alone and then I broke down.
At first there were no memories except that terrible feeling where you just know. It's like when something awful has happened, and you wake up the next morning and for a few seconds everything's sleepy and fine, and then it just hits you. You know?
I googled something like "adult symptoms of childhood sexual abuse" and as I was reading the list I felt like I was reading my life story. I was in shock.
He was our next-door neighbor from the time I was about 2-5 years old. I remembered who he was, from my parents talking about him, but not him, really. I guess I had just never put his name and "traumatic event" together until that moment. I have zero memory of seeing him, being with him, or even the house we lived in at that time, even though I have other memories of other people and places I saw far less often from that same time period.
He was an older man who lived alone and my parents adopted him as a sort of grandfather figure for us. He was very friendly to the family and would always bring me gifts and ice cream, and I know there were several times I was alone with him. When he moved away, it was abrupt and unexplained, and we never knew the reason his family apparently ostracized him (a secret scandal?). To the best of my knowledge he is now dead. Still trying to process that, obviously.
I was in doubt at first because I have no real visual memories of the abuse. I can feel them slowly creeping in - I can remember his porch, his living room, and vaguely his face, and a few other tiny details - and I have had many nightmares, but nothing solid enough that a facts-oriented person like me could feel validated. Nobody wants to believe that this could have ever happened to them and I was resistant for several days, but finally I just knew. I have since had all sorts of frequent and undeniable flashbacks, save visual. I know that the visual memories and others will come with time when I am ready.
I have told only my therapist and my parents, the latter at my therapist's advice. When I called my mom she was shaken and in denial. She kept offering alternate explanations for all the symptoms I listed and finally said something like "Well, I don't want you to jump to conclusions, so I'm not gonna really believe this unless you have real convincing proof." I swallowed my hurt and said flatly "I need you to believe me." She amended her remark and said she believed me, but it was unconvincing.
My dad texted me the next day with a very kind and loving message. But my mom has been... absolutely horrible towards me since. I won't elaborate now, but let's just say that all of my flatmates are so excited to go home for Christmas next week and I am dreading it because I am afraid of my mother and the harm her words do to me. Even now I'm up at 2am because I'm so afraid of the inevitable nightmares.
I know now that I was sexually abused - if, on the off chance, not by that neighbor, then by someone else. But I'm definitely still at the very beginning of this journey, haha.
Thanks for reading. Blessings to you all!
Ryn
