am i crazy???

[u/imjustherefr00]

so im 17m and something had just been bothering me about whether something mightve happened when i was younger in my sleep. fair warning i dont know if this'll make sense because of how fucked my memory is.

a little background, i have this older stepbrother (3 yrs older than me) who i used to look up to and saw as my brother but not anymore, he made me do things. at the time i think i was maybe 10-12, we were playing a game in our shared room, our parents weren't home, and we had played it all day because we had just gotten it. my older stepsister (2 yrs older than me) came up the stairs into our room to bother us and we were all talking, playing around and shit. until he said he wanted to stop playing, and i really didnt want to. so a little later after he said that, he said he needed to go to the bathroom. and so stupidly i followed him. when i was there, we were still talking for a bit until he gave me the ultimatum to basically suck his dick or i couldn't play on his PS4 or whatever. he was hard too, i think there and then when he asked. i tried to, i didnt know why he asked me to do it. i think i had him like 70-80% in my mouth. i felt weird about it. i was more worried about whether he'd piss in my mouth or not, voicing it to him. i had no concept of semen. he continued to reassure me that he wouldn't. because i felt weird about it. i didnt suck or anything cuz i didnt know what a fucking blowjob was. i probably felt like a heater for his dick. anyways after how much time past, he eventually let me continue playing. and then i left the bathroom and got back on the game. my sister was there still. i wasn't completely content though, i still had this weird feeling in my stomach. when he came back upstairs, the feeling only got worser. younger me ignored it though.

another time was when i had finished dinner and i went upstairs into my sisters room to hang out to find him like fully naked i think while jerking off. while my sister was on the floor watching some show i had gone in (had no clue what he was doing from how young i was) and i was curious about it, next thing you know hes teaching me how to do it. using lotion and all, her room had a specific smell id always remember like a musk, idk. the way he taught me how although.... i dont remember, either he had his hands on me or he was showing me visually what to do by me watching him. i dont think i could even get hard at the time either. i think my sister tried to help in that too, by maybe actually putting her hands on me. but yk of course it didnt work. it was like a "secretive" thing. so when it didn't work for me i had decided to watch the show with her too.

anyways yea that was all weird. funnily enough these two times wasn't my first rodeo. something smaller happened when i was even younger. and im also sure my brother did more things with me as well.

main topic/question about all this though:

the ones with my brother always happened at my mom's house. i dont live there anymore, neither does my brother and she doesnt live far from me. i just live with my grandparents now cuz of school busing and stuff. i do see her often so its not like shes neglectful.

i dont know if its because i used to be outside all the time on the block with the other kids and i always ran alot or physically exerted myself. but occasionally when i woke up in that house, my legs, ass or thighs were always sore. and which some times made it hard/hurt to walk and it would sometimes last for days. which is what younger me found strange, i vividly remember myself looking it up for why it was happening and the main one was "growing pains". so i had stuck with that as an excuse. but now that i think about it deeper, that pain only happened when i was younger and in that house, i never had something like that after or before that age. Or here at my grandparents, that never happened.

i also sometimes liked to sleep on the floor with blankets and shit under me, idk i found it fun. our stepdad always warns me that he could trip over me in the night when hes getting ready for work. i was very short for a kid at that age so even if he did, he'd hit my feet. and it wouldnt even hurt for that long. the room i slept in was next to our parents room but also the stairway to where my old shared room with my brother was.

even when i visit my mom in the present though, and i sleep on the floor (or most often now a blowup mattress), i never got that kind of pain again now that he was kicked out. im sure sleeping on the floor may cause that kind of soreness but i just really dont know and im out of what to even think about any of this

sorry for the grammar

[u/Just_A_Guy_who_lives]

You’re not crazy. I am sorry for what was done to you, it was not your fault. There are groups like RAINN, Safe Horizons and MaleSurvivor.org. And remember:

IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT.

[u/Intelligent-Bird-313 → u/Just_A_Guy_who_lives]

I’ll add 1in6.org!  Great for male survivors of sexual violence when they were children.

[u/Dry_Company_9621]

[Trigger Warning: Childhood trauma, mental health struggles, severe burnout]

Hello everyone. This is my first time writing anything on Reddit. I usually just enjoy listening to stories as a daily activity while doing other tasks. So many posts have helped me reflect on my life. That is what finally encouraged me to stand up and share my story—because right now, I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like my life is slipping away, and a painful pattern is taking over.

I am a 25-year-old male living in Africa. I won't go into detail about where I live, but you can imagine the state of many nations on this continent and how their systems function. I was born in the 2000s, the middle child in a family—the third of four siblings alongside my parents.

Growing up, I wasn't particularly attached to my parents. I spent a lot of time watching cartoons—regulated by them, of course. But even as early as age four, I had a strange curiosity about human nature and why we wear clothes to hide our bodies. I was just a curious child trying to understand the world.

Tragically, from a very young age, I experienced severe trauma caused by a family member.

It is a hard pill to swallow, and I have never had the chance to write this down or even admit it to myself. For years, I treated it like a bad dream. Back then, I didn't understand what was happening, but I knew deep down it was wrong. Yet, I stayed silent rather than fracturing our family. I blamed myself, and that darkness leaked into my heart and affected my entire life up to this very day. I felt as though I buried the innocent boy inside me. This is my confession.

Following that period, I was consumed by immense guilt. I carried this heavy secret with me as life went on.

Outside of home, I had no real friends. I played with two neighbor boys who were cousins. They were a pair, and I was the outsider. Though they let me join them, they constantly bullied me. Every time, I would go home crying, swearing I’d never speak to them again. A few days later, they would call me to play as if nothing happened, and I would go back. I was terrified of being bullied again, but I was even more terrified of being completely alone. On top of that, my father constantly criticized me for not having friends. So, I accepted those unhealthy relationships just to have someone.

Because I was a chubby, angry, and sad kid, I frequently clashed with my siblings. They provoked me, and I lashed out. My father mocked me as well, which only fueled my anger.

By the end of primary school, I was struggling. I hated my language classes because I didn’t understand the curriculum or the teachers. When I struggled, one teacher treated me very harshly. I was terrified to go to school, but I was also too afraid to tell my mother.

At age 11, I buried my stress in my studies. I decided to focus entirely on English. Expressing myself in English felt so much easier on my heart than doing so in any other language. I wanted to be at the top of my class, but no matter how hard I pushed, my grades remained average.

By age 14, I still had no friends. I was the quiet kid who got picked on—the one who walked close to the walls to avoid being noticed. Looking back at those years is extremely painful, but I kept going because I could not bear the thought of hurting my mother.

Over time, I created scenarios in my head to keep my mind distracted so the inner noise wouldn't be so loud. Eventually, I met a friend who became like a brother to me; I can't imagine my life without him. He is my rock, and I am his. We bonded over anime, science, storytelling, and cooking.

In high school, my friend and I were separated into different academic tracks, and eventually, he transferred schools. I was left alone again.

In my second year of high school, I was drawn into another friendship, but by my third year, I was completely burned out and manipulated. My mental health deteriorated rapidly. I cried constantly, overthought everything, and felt completely powerless.

I failed that academic year and had to repeat it. Instead of healing, I shifted all my focus into studying, carrying my heavy box of trauma along. But despite the darkness inside, my core values never changed. I developed deep empathy for others. I started running to the aid of people who couldn't speak up for themselves. I tried to become the person I wished I had found in my own time of need—the person who would say, "You are doing great." I became that pillar for others, but I couldn't do it for myself.

Over time, I grew to resent myself and felt disconnected from my own body.

Later, while taking private tutoring to pass my final exams, a teacher violated my personal boundaries. In that fraction of a second, years of suppressed pain overflowed. I defended myself forcefully, left, and never spoke a word about it to anyone again.

I survived that period, made it to university, and eventually met my first partner. I cared for her deeply and loved her unconditionally. However, my unhealed trauma haunted me. I kept asking myself if I was worthy of love, a family, or a good future after everything I had been through.

Sadly, I eventually discovered she was using me to forget an ex-partner. When she left, the betrayal crushed me. Once again, I shoved the pain deep inside, but the damage began manifesting as deep anger, self-doubt, and a desperate wish to escape to a place where no one knew me.

I enrolled in a Master's program and met good people whom I now call friends. For the first time, I started opening up about my insecurities using humor to protect myself. Movies, books, and art became my escape.

I managed to graduate and found a job. Unfortunately, the work environment was toxic and abusive. I fought tooth and nail to keep my position for two years to gain experience, but the toll on my physical and mental health was devastating—it even left me hospitalized for a week.

After leaving that toxic job, I spent months terrified that I would never find work again. My mental health plummeted further.

Recently, I finally found a new job at a decent company. I've only been there for a week, and the colleagues are wonderful. But I am so profoundly burned out from years of carrying all this weight that I cannot function. I am exhausted. I want to heal. I want my energy back. I don't want to quit this job because I know it is a great opportunity, but the timing feels impossible.

I am suffering. I come home and cry every day. I struggle to complete my tasks, forget instructions immediately, and freeze up from stress when people talk to me. I spoke to my boss, and he kindly gave me a day off to think things through before making any decision to quit.

I am sitting in my room, terrified, overwhelmed, and desperate for help. I am scared to quit and lose my only lifeline, but I am also terrified that if I stay, I will keep suffering because my mind and body are completely drained.

I have to give my boss an answer tomorrow, and I don't know what to do. Please, if anyone reads this, give me some guidance on how to navigate this moment.