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Sexual trauma, PTSD and alcohol distroyed my relationship and hurt the man i love - a letter to those i've hurt



PTSD, sexual abuse and the kick up the butt that I needed to start healing.
My story, the whole truth
To everyone that I’ve hurt

Let me start by saying that this is the first time in my life that I have adressed the trauma that I have suffered in my short 23 years and the full impact it was had . I have recently been diagnosed with severe clinical depression, anxiety and PTSD and alcoholism. Although, deep down I knew this already, I was just not ready to admit it. I always thought there was shame in admitting you were depressed, but if I had known the sence of relief I would feel instead then I would have gone to the doctors a very long time ago. Why I didn’t go to the doctors before I’m not really sure, fear of facing the darkest moments in my life I have tried to bury perhaps.

I was brought in a well off part of London, born to middle class parents with the world of opprtunitues at my disposal. However, under that facacde was the was an unhappy home. My father was a very lost man, who unfortunatly was not comfortable in his own skin and his sexuality. He was in and out of prison for most of my childhood, he often failed to pick me up from school, leaving me feeling abandoned and confused. I found out he was in prison when everyone was searching their parents up on google and mine came up with his mugshot. No one ever told me what happened during that marrage, but I feel my mothers pain when she talkes about it.

When I was 16, I met this man. Lets call him Ed. Ed had the same birthday as me, Ed lived down the road. I fell in ‘love’ quick. Ed was kind and sweet at first, but Ed had a drug problem. He was more interested in when he would get his next fix than about me. After Ed quit drugs, he changed. He was calous and cold. He would cheat on me constantly, he would say that I need to loose weight, he said he wanted to rape me, he was forceful and he was unkind and hurt me-. During this, one time when I was 17, I was offered a lift by an older neighbour. I was trusting, he lived next door right so he was fine. He drove me to a strange road and I remember telling him ‘no sorry my boyfriend lives down there’. He locked the car doors and forced his lips on to mine. I screamed, I elblowed him in the face and ran. He took him to court after that, but it was his word over mine. I was not belived.

After this I started to consume bottles of bottles of wine at a time in my room, I was terrrified to leave the house in case I saw him. I started to become very distrustful of men, never angry at the justice system and angry at men.i began to black out, end up in dangerous positions, say cruel things to people. I was angry at Ed for treating me like a possesion, I was scared he was to actually rape me. He would say things like ‘I won’t stop even if you ask me too’, he would choke me to the point of almost passing out. I got pregnant soon after that, it compleatly broke me. I had always wanted a baby.

I never could hold my booze, and was often the drunkest at a party, always the liability from a young age. I had grown up in a house where alchohol was readily avalibale so I learnt how to drink from a young age. It got worse at university, I was never without a drink in my hand. But it was ok then, I was 18.

But then, in the second week of freshers, my life got darker. I’m not really sure what exactly happened but I was found one morning by the canal, covered in mud, blood and with my nickers missing. I never knew what really happened by my friends told me they thought I might have been sexually assulted. I was too scared to tell the university and kept it to myself. I was too scared to not be belived again. The funny thing is that I would later tell people that I did speak out, so why didn’t I really? I got pregnant again soon after, I wasn’t sure who’s baby it was though, I didn’t care. I wanted it out.
However, all my friends started to learn how to hold their drink, and I learned how to hide my habit. I craved it, it made me feel better. It solved everything, for a while.
It made me forget the men who had distroyed me. I started to feel this intense blackness take hold of me when I was drunk, when I was drunk I wasn’t weak anymore. When I was drunk, I was more powerful than men. I drank and drank untill the pain would pass.

Then this man came along, (let’s call him Paul because it hurts to type his real name) . Paul was the coolest and sexiest man I had ever seen. He had dyed blonde hair, the coolest clothes, the sexiest attitude and the way he smoked a cigarrette made me weak at the knees. I was besotted with him from the moment I saw him. He made me alive, he was like no one else I had ever met and he treated me like a queen, made me feel sexy and he worshipped the ground I walked and we had the best sex, for a while. I had a dark secret that ruined are relationship. I was an alcoholic. I destroyed his trust.

However, all my friends started to learn how to hold their drink, and I learned how to hide my habit. I craved it, it made me feel better. It solved everything, for a while.
It made me forget the men who had distroyed me. I started to become very good at lying, hiding bottles, eating chocolate to mask the smell. I started to get in the habit of lying about silly things that I did not need to lie about, like where I went to uni or what size my feet were, I realise thanks to my therapy that this is a trauma response.

One man, my stepdad, distroyed me even more than the rest. He had always been a father figure to me in the absence of my dad. I trusted him with my life. One day, when I was 18, I came home with a nipple piercing, I thought it was hilarious. I decided to show my mother and her friends, who in turn thought it was hilarious. Then I showed my stepdad, and my perception of men finally came crashing down. At first he was amused, he asked to have a look. Then he started to touch it and confess his desire for me… I won’t go into detail as it was the darkest moment of my life, its what truly broke me. I told my mum and she promised family councilling but it never happened. They forgot, but I didn’t. I became suicidal, feeling like I did not belong to anyone, that no one wanted me here. I isolated myself in my bedroom, scared to go down stairs.

Anyways, back to Paul, the reason I am writing this today. Paul was amazing, he gave me the world and gave me the flat of my own that I had always dreamed of.My never own home. I was in love with him from the moment I met him. He suggested the career that Im doing now and love. We had the most loving, caring and thouughtful relationship. He made my life light up. Untill I got drunk that was, I started by hiding bottles of booze around the house, I started leaving the house randomly to find new friends to get drunk with. It hurt him, he struggled to sleep, he struggled to do his job and see his friends. I was brought home by police officers because I was so drunk I passed out on the street. I worried him, I could see his heart break every time I was drunk.He tried to help me many times, but I was not ready to admit what I’ve written today. I was not ready to face all of the trauma. My biggest regret is not not letting him help me sooner. I masked the depression well when I was sober, this intense feeling of hurt never really went away, but I could deal with it. When I was drunk, the pain and the anger poured out, I felt so abandoned by my dad, I felt betrayed by my stepdad, I felt anger and self destruction. I wanted to sabotage any nice thing I had as I did not belive that I deserved it.

When I was drunk, I did not see the sweet, doting boyfriend I had. I saw my stepdad, I was the neighbour, I saw ed. I finctionalied this version of him when I was drunk that I was scared of and needed to protect myself againt, to hurt before he hurt me. I would say horrible things and throw things, smash things, throw tantrums, break things. I wanted to distroy my life, I wanted those men to feel the pain I felt. I wanted to break up my whole world. When I was drunk was the only time I could let the pain out, this harrowing amount of pain. I took my pain out on him on myself by hurting myself, I took my pain out on the only person who really really understood me.

I was so hurt by what men had done that I once told Paul I would accuse him of assult, my trauma and alcoholism ran so deep inside me that I said that to the man who had done nothing but try to help me and support me. I knew it was was wrong but when I drank I had to hurt people as much as I was hurting.

Paul wasn’t perfect, he had a temper that was very scary and made me jumpy, but he would have never hurt me. We never ever fought when we were sober, only when we were drunk. It was our own personal self sabotage.

Paul and I had an abortion shortly into our relationship, I grew attached very quickly and had trouble going through with the termination. This only added to my depression. Then I got pregnant again, shortly after and I was too ashamed to tell him. I was scared he would hate me for being irresponsible. The emotional trauma of 2 abortions in such a small space of time plummemeted me into depression and made me drink more and more. It has happened again, but this time I am not ashamed. I love what women’s bodies are capabale of and will cherish the time.

I can never undo the pain and suffering that I have caused Paul, But we really loved eachother very very much and he was the best boyfriend in the world.My heart breaks that I caused him so much pain. I love him with every bit of my body, he used to wrap his arms arouns me from behind and I would feel compleatly at home and safe. Paul was the single greatest thing to come into my life, and it kills me that that I put my trauma on to him. Paul deserved better.
Last week I saw something that put my life into perspective and I truly realised how tough life can be.

I handled mine and Pauls breakup terribly, I was so scared of being alone and facing my trauma that I couldnt understand why he needed to leave untill now. Now I understand that I need to face this head on and let him heal too. I clung onto a flat that was a safey net, stopping me from having to face my family head on.

I can never undo the pain I’ve caused Paul, but I can try to heal for myself and him. Since being diagnosed with PTSD and depression, I have begun the jouney of healing, admiting that men have hurt me, facing them, forgiving them but not forgetting and forgiving myself as well. I can never take back what I did, but I can learn and repair from it. I want to be the woman that Paul deserves. Thats if he will have me back.

I am 3 weeks sober today, in trauma therapy, AA meetings and on medication and looking forward to life time of sobriety and happiness.

I hope that life is with Paul, but only if he wants it. I’m not sure if Paul will ever trust me again, but I hope that with time I can be his world again. Paul, I love you baby I am so sorry that I hurt you and pushed you away.

To my mum, to my friends , to my family, to Paul,to Paul’s friends (his best ones in particular, they know who they are) I love you all so so much and I am truly sorry.