I don’t have my meds and haven’t been taking them for a few weeks. I ran out and haven’t seen my psych to refill yet, and OMG I feel it hard….
This is going to be a long rambling post. So I already apologize.
I will finally end up sharing this blog with my family and I want to go through some things. I feel so trapped under all the lies. The things that have happened that I have covered up. I know I am adult but I often feel like a helpless kid. I’ve been through a lot. For a long time I didn’t understand what was going on.
I was diagnosed once with bi-polar disorder as a kid, somewhere around freshman year of high school. I took meds that really messed with my mind. Looking back it was making my PTSD so much worse. It put me in a groggy haze and so I would sleep but because I had PTSD and wasn’t telling anyone the night terrors I had were excruciating. I would wake up scared and couldn’t move, I felt like someone was physically on top of me I couldn’t scream. I thought I was being possessed or going insane manifesting things. Sometimes I would wake up with bruises scratches or red marks. Once I dreamt I was pushed off a building and I woke up with a broken blood vessel in my eye. These dreams made everything so much worse. So I secretly stopped taking my pills.
I want to take a step back a bit and go back a lot. When I was younger I had an amazing life. When I was a little kid I know I was loved so unconditionally I have so many fond memories. Beaches, New clothes, New Toys, Play sets, Patience, Affection. I had all the building blocks for a perfect easy life. Then again I was being taken advantage of by a family member who was only a few months older than I was. I had no idea that what was happening was wrong. I didn’t know that him putting stuffed animals in my underwear are putting his hands in my shirt and pants was wrong. There were so many little incidents that happened. Just quick things that most kids probably wouldn’t think twice about it. To be perfectly honest, I almost didn’t think twice about it. I had moved by the second grade. Then in the third grade something specific happened. I was yelled at and shamed for using the word “RAPE” around my parents. I felt confused and awful. I had learned that word on the playground hearing people and watching people scream the word when people would grab others or push others. Feeling extremely ashamed I asked a close friend what rape was and was told it is when people touch your skin on your private parts. That’s almost the exact words I got. My heart broke. I knew my parents were so angry with that word I was so nervous that I messed up. That it was all my fault, I knew if my parents ever found out anything happened they wouldn’t love me anymore. they wouldn’t want me anymore. I was a bad word.
That’s where a lot of things started. It wasn’t the sexual assault that scared me, it was the fear of being unloved. Having someone figure out I was keeping a secret. All my life growing up I was told if somebody touched me I needed to tell my parents. The thing was though I thought it was only adults that shouldn’t touch me and I remember thinking I needed to tell because I would be doing something bad. I thought I needed to tell because I was going to get in trouble.
As I grew up I kept just letting people touch me. There was a boy in third grade who always touched my butt. A guy in grade school that sat next to me during music class that would grab my inner thigh and make me jump and laugh with all the other boys. I had many comments in grade school about how I didn’t have boobs but had a nice but and I also had a kid tell me that it was okay to touch my breasts because we are just playing freeze tag and he was aloud to tag me wherever he wanted. Also by grade school I mean 2-5 grade. In middle school i saw boys fighting over the right to hang out with me, like I was their possession, like I didn’t have a voice, and really I didn’t because I wasn’t saying anything. I had a boy try to kiss me and when I stopped him and told him no, I was bullied by him and all of his friends. They called me names, whore, slut, bitch, ho. Luckily I moved to another school but things didn’t get better they got worse. I went ahead and joined the cheer team, I loved dance and I ended up really liking cheer, unfortunately being a little on the bigger side I was body shamed. I was called fat a lot by other girls, they were constantly trying to give me tips on how to be thinner and how to be prettier, but they weren’t giving me tips in a way that was helpful more like rude comments on how if I didn’t eat so much or if I died my hair, or put on make-up maybe i wouldn’t look like an ugly pig. Even though all these things were being said by the girls, there were still boys who would flip up my skirt or pull on my shirt and this was all before the 7th grade! These people I will never forget but I have decided to forgive. For future reference I have forgiven all of the people that have helped contribute to my PTSD. Sadly this is the easy stuff to get through. I have moved on from this but is important to acknowledge where the problems and the trauma started.
It’s taken me over 2 hours to right this and I am emotionally spent maybe I’ll tell the rest of the story later.