Sob Story Friends

woodsy1

MyPTSD Pro
I remember as a kid always swapping sob stories with new friends. That seems to be how we got to know each other. It's almost like we were in a competition to see who had the worst history. In the end it didn't matter who's story reigned supreme; what mattered was that through the process we became friends.

Then it seems that somewhere along the line it became immature, counterproductive or wrong to share these sob stories. You know what? Since that point I've never had as deep of relationship with anyone.

There's a powerful element of bonding in telling our son stories to one another.

Let me tell you mine briefly. Please feel free to ask if you'd like further details on any point.

I was born to an alcoholic abusive father. I was trapped in that situation until age 12. My mom fled my dad at some point and I don't have a single memory of ever seeing them together. There are some pictures, but no memories. Maybe just as well.

The best 6 years of my young life were living with my mom between 6 and 18. Then I entered the military and was further traumatized by drill sargents and war (Desert Shield n Storm). Ugh!

After that I got deeply enmeshed in an abusive faith group for 18 years. Married my wife while in that group and she was abusive, with diagnosed NPD, HPD, BPD, and bi-polar. Escaped her abuse when she cheated on me after 12 years of marriage.

Seems like I am (or was) just a magnet which abusers are drawn to.

Now I'm a total mess with Complex PTSD that completely disables and isolated me. I'm on 100% VA Disability for PTSD, which I jokingly like to call Post Traumatic Spouse Disorder. Lol.

I stuffed all this trauma all my life until it finally took me down. I spent the last 6 years pretty much isolated in my home brooding and terrorized. I am just now processing it all and getting out.

It feels good to connect with you in these stories. I hope you'll reach out and share your experience too. Maybe we'll become sob story friends!

Take care,
Woodsy
 

Survivor3

MyPTSD Pro
Hey, @woodsy1, my father was a violent and abusive alcoholic. It didn't matter to me when he was nice because I was always just waiting for the abuse to start again. I'm also on disability benefits because of my mental health issues. I used to drink and smoke alot but I ended up having a heart attack and nearly died. I was in hospital for 5 days.The heart attack lasted 4.5 hours. Excruciating pain. I completely stopped smoking and drinking after that, it's been nearly 4 months now. I've nearly died several times in my life. If you want to know more then read my thread, ' traumas, memories and awareness'. 😊
 

woodsy1

MyPTSD Pro
Hey, @woodsy1, my father was a violent and abusive alcoholic. It didn't matter to me when he was nice because I was always just waiting for the abuse to start again. I'm also on disability benefits because of my mental health issues. I used to drink and smoke alot but I ended up having a heart attack and nearly died. I was in hospital for 5 days.The heart attack lasted 4.5 hours. Excruciating pain. I completely stopped smoking and drinking after that, it's been nearly 4 months now. I've nearly died several times in my life. If you want to know more then read my thread, ' traumas, memories and awareness'. 😊
Hello @Survivor3,
Glad to make your acquaintance. So sorry about your abuse, trauma, and misfortune! It's shocking to hear how many times you've nearly died.

Like yourself, I got into drinking alcohol a few times in my life. First from age 14 to age 26. I was pretty much a non-addicted functional alcoholic. I say non-addicted because at age 26 I had a change in values and simply stopped drinking with no hesitation or problems.

About 7 years later I experienced a horrendous depression. After white-knuckling that for 3 years and trying every med in the book to no avail, I thought I'd give alcohol a shot. It worked!

After about 6 months of drinking, I gave it up again. No problem.

11 years later I escaped my abusive group to a life of isolation and terror. Once again I went through the whole gambit of psych meds to no avail, and actually further harm. Ugh! After 6 years of white-knuckling it, I thought I'd give booze a try again. Worked!

Again, I drank 6 months and dropped it. Though, I must admit that due to it's effectiveness for me, when I'm struggling hard with debilitating C-PTSD symptoms, I am tempted to just spend the remainder of my life as a functional alcoholic. Lol.

Im seeking to find more healthy ways of dealing with my C-PTSD. That's part of the reason I am here. I benefit from chatting with other folks with similar struggles.

Thanks so much for joining in the conversation and inviting me into yours. Being open is not easy with PTSD. I hope you are doing well in your battle.

Looking forward to chatting with you more!
Woodsy
 

RussellSue

Not Active
I am so glad I knew not to join the military. I would be dead, no doubt.

So, I came into the world with an extremely severe bilateral cleft lip and palate. I went into surgery in my first 24 hours to close off the hole in the roof of my mouth to prevent brain infection.

My mother was fine with this. She was the only person in my family who did not have a serious problem with my face, speech impediment, hearing issues -- just me.

When I was 5, my stepfather made it clear that I was an embarrassment and forbade me to speak in public and held me off of the side of a roof.

He began sexually abusing my sister around the same time. Part of his game was telling her she could have anything she wanted because she was so beautiful and that I was disgusting and no man would ever want me. My sister adopted his abusive patterns toward me. I also witnessed her being sexually abused and was locked outside the door of a shed while a neighbor raped her. I tried, but I could not help her.

When I was 7, my stepfather pointed a gun at my sister's head and pulled the trigger in front of me and my grandparents. He lived with us for another 3 years. I developed severe anxiety.

I had about 15 surgeries, many of which were highly traumatic. I had near death experiences, witnessed other children dying, etc.

I had social problems and problems walking correctly and my entire childhood involved me being extremely self-conscious.

My mother kicked me out at 12, and I moved around a lot as a teen. I lost my insurance and wasn't able to get medical care I needed for my cleft or my hip dysplasia.

I lived with my dad for a while when I was 13. He strangled me twice and I ran away. I lived with the families of friends until I was 18, but was never patented, again.

After high school, I tried LSD, mushrooms, and dextromethorphine and rather liked getting a break from my chronic anxiety, so I spaced out for a year.

When I came to, I began to realize that I was not functional. Not only had I not been raised, I had severe anxiety and was having extreme fears, insomnia and hallucinations that I later came to know as flashbacks. I got sober and sought help, but this was not going to be easy.

I got engaged. He died after I spent a year taking care of him.

I was usually working at least part-time at shit jobs with the exception of the first 6 months after I was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder when I was on state disability and at group therapy round the clock. I stopped when I was 29 and started school.

I hit a low point at 26, realizing my memory was garbage and that I could not focus, nor think. I spent a day with a neurologist. It turned out that my IQ had plummeted to 81. This, he said, was the product of PTSD, though I did not have this diagnosis prior to the appointment and it didn't stick. I ended up with a schizophrenia diagnosis.

Shortly thereafter, I took off to The South with an 18-year-old kid. To say it ended badly is a huge understatement. I also started drinking and did so for about 9 months. By the time I returned home, I was emaciated and the sickest I have ever been.

I got engaged again, at 29. He was dead by the time I was 31. He was seriously injured during some down home country fun while he was ill. Diabetes took over. It was horrid.

I had 6 months worth of ear infections every year from the time I was 24 until I was 32. I finally had a nasal surgery I was meant to have in my teens and I was cured.

I married my husband when I was 35. This was the year I finally got a PTSD diagnosis that stayed a while. We're good. He's healthy. His maltreatment in the same town my former fiance was injured in started a nasty downward spiral for me until we finally left town.

We have had some adventures and now we are both ready to pick a place and die there.

For the last couple of years, I have not met the symptom inventory criteria for PTSD, but still have active GAD.

By some miracle, I was never significantly abused by a partner, but I was angry enough by the time I was 15, I probably would have ripped any man in half who tried. Someone did try to date rape me but I was in better shape than he was and it ended in him running away screaming that I was crazy. I sometimes wish I was not so inclined toward violent self-defense, but it has probably saved my life, especially the second time my father strangled me. I kneed him in the groin and ran.

Anyways, that's way more than enough of my story but not even a fraction of it.

Thanks for giving me a reason to write that all out. I think I needed that, today.
 
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