Anniebananie
New Here
My parents separated when I was toddler, and when I was six, my mom met my stepfather and we moved across country to live with him. I saw my dad once a year until I was 10, when he moved across country to be closer to me. From age 6-8, I was molested by my best friend's 12-year-old brother. My first memories of being sexual are around this time. I never told anyone and felt very ashamed that I had sexual feelings.
My stepfather was an angry drunk, and never attempted to bond with me. He did yell at me most of the time and I was terrified of him 24/7. My mom and stepfather walked around nude and the story is that they stopped when I grabbed my stepfather's penis. I don't know how old I was.
At age 10, a neighbor boy molested me while my step grandmother was babysitting upstairs. I never told anyone. This was the age that I first got drunk and spent my teenage years blacking out at parties and hanging out with a violent group.
At 14, my best friend's 19-year-old brother raped me. I was a virgin. I never told anyone. After that, I figured I was useless and kept on drinking. I was gang raped at a party when I was 15.
In order to gain some control, I started going to bars with a fake ID and picking up older men. I felt a little power when I could get them to take me to their car. But I also felt ashamed and had a reputation of a slut. I was usually drunk and didn't feel much.
At 12, my stepfather's two daughters came to live with us. The older one was kicked out because my stepfather was sexually attracted to her. The other one was a year older than I was. We fought constantly, and I receded into the background. One night my stepsister and I came home late and drunk and he punched her into her room and kicked me. We all went to therapy, and the therapist, who saw all of us individually, told me I was a spoiled brat.
At 15, I decided to live with my dad and change schools to get away from my home life and the bad news friends. The damage was already done. I spent an enormous amount of time alone. I didn't really have any close friends and would spend every night alone in our one bedroom apartment as my dad worked nights.
At 17, I got into college and moved across country back to the state I was born in. It was the first time that I really felt happy since I was six. It didn't last too long, and I started doing meth to finish my papers. I got my degree, but I always felt like a fake and was extremely insecure.
I went on to be an adult and had long term boyfriends one after the other in my twenties. In my thirties I got married to an angry alcoholic and have since divorced. I had to declare bankruptcy and started over in 2009.
Since then, I have lost many friends over my inability to function, even though I supported myself until 2013, when I was fired from a job and had a hysterectomy. Somehow that surgery sent me on the path to a nervous breakdown. I had to go on disability due to PTSD and have not been able to work since. In July 2014, I had a psychotic break and was committed to a mental hospital by my mother and brother. I was released after a week to my apartment, alone. I don't know how I stayed alive. I was very suicidal and could barely take care of myself. My family, for whatever reason, did or could not help me financially or emotionally. I ended up homeless last June.
Happy to report that I now have my own apartment and a small income from Social Security, but I am terrified that it will be terminated and I will have to go back to work. I just don't know if I can. I still have depression, agoraphobia, no appetite, crying spells, isolation, nightmares and keep ruminating on the fact that my family was not there for me and let me become homeless. Sometimes the sadness is overwhelming and I thank the universe that I have my dog. If it wasn't for him, I would not be on this earth.
Thank you for listening.
My stepfather was an angry drunk, and never attempted to bond with me. He did yell at me most of the time and I was terrified of him 24/7. My mom and stepfather walked around nude and the story is that they stopped when I grabbed my stepfather's penis. I don't know how old I was.
At age 10, a neighbor boy molested me while my step grandmother was babysitting upstairs. I never told anyone. This was the age that I first got drunk and spent my teenage years blacking out at parties and hanging out with a violent group.
At 14, my best friend's 19-year-old brother raped me. I was a virgin. I never told anyone. After that, I figured I was useless and kept on drinking. I was gang raped at a party when I was 15.
In order to gain some control, I started going to bars with a fake ID and picking up older men. I felt a little power when I could get them to take me to their car. But I also felt ashamed and had a reputation of a slut. I was usually drunk and didn't feel much.
At 12, my stepfather's two daughters came to live with us. The older one was kicked out because my stepfather was sexually attracted to her. The other one was a year older than I was. We fought constantly, and I receded into the background. One night my stepsister and I came home late and drunk and he punched her into her room and kicked me. We all went to therapy, and the therapist, who saw all of us individually, told me I was a spoiled brat.
At 15, I decided to live with my dad and change schools to get away from my home life and the bad news friends. The damage was already done. I spent an enormous amount of time alone. I didn't really have any close friends and would spend every night alone in our one bedroom apartment as my dad worked nights.
At 17, I got into college and moved across country back to the state I was born in. It was the first time that I really felt happy since I was six. It didn't last too long, and I started doing meth to finish my papers. I got my degree, but I always felt like a fake and was extremely insecure.
I went on to be an adult and had long term boyfriends one after the other in my twenties. In my thirties I got married to an angry alcoholic and have since divorced. I had to declare bankruptcy and started over in 2009.
Since then, I have lost many friends over my inability to function, even though I supported myself until 2013, when I was fired from a job and had a hysterectomy. Somehow that surgery sent me on the path to a nervous breakdown. I had to go on disability due to PTSD and have not been able to work since. In July 2014, I had a psychotic break and was committed to a mental hospital by my mother and brother. I was released after a week to my apartment, alone. I don't know how I stayed alive. I was very suicidal and could barely take care of myself. My family, for whatever reason, did or could not help me financially or emotionally. I ended up homeless last June.
Happy to report that I now have my own apartment and a small income from Social Security, but I am terrified that it will be terminated and I will have to go back to work. I just don't know if I can. I still have depression, agoraphobia, no appetite, crying spells, isolation, nightmares and keep ruminating on the fact that my family was not there for me and let me become homeless. Sometimes the sadness is overwhelming and I thank the universe that I have my dog. If it wasn't for him, I would not be on this earth.
Thank you for listening.
