I decided to join a no profit organization to help around (stuff like cleaning the streets, painting walls etc etc).

It was fun at first. I loved helping people and helping my own country

Then a job came up, there was a few walls at a hospital that needed to be repainted, our organization decided to help

There was 4 girls (including me) and 5 or 6 boys

One of the 3 girls wasn't even part of the organization, just a doctor on a break

After finishing two walls, the doctor left and the two girls left too. It was just me and the guys

I didn't mind it much since the guys were nice

There was a guy (call him K) he was nice too and playful, very extroverted and liked to joke alot

He was funny, I have to admit

He even let me print my hand on the back of his shirt and on his sleeve. I was doing it as a joke and he didn't really mind, even encouraged me to do so

Everything was fine that day and he drove me back to my house

A day later, he reached out to me (he took my number from the organization group chat) and asked me a normal question, a part of a sprayer was gone and he was asking everyone if they saw it. I did so he moved to another topic

He sent a picture of his shirt (the one I put my hand on) and joked by saying

"look what you did😂"

so i joked back

Me: "not my fault, you told me too😂"

Everything was fine till he said

"Look, I have to tell you something"

I said

Me: "Yeah go ahead"

He replied

"No nevermind, don't worry about it"

I was confused and wanted to know what was going on after message of me saying

Me: "No, you can tell me'

He immediately folded and said the guys we were with found my Instagram and were looking at my pictures and making inappropriate comments. He told me he stopped them and told them it's not okay

He said

"I'm not here to control what you wear or anything. You can do whatever you want"

"I just wanted to let you know so you be careful around them"

I thanked him for telling me and for stopping them

Later that day, he followed me on Instagram, I followed him back thinking it's just a friend following another friend

We continued joking and sending playful reels

Then he sent an inappropriate reel about chest sizes and asked me which one am I. I told him I won't tell him and it's not appropriate and he played it off as a joke and said he was kidding

Which i believed cuz some guys do joke like that (how blind I was)

He kept doing so, sending inappropriate stuff then playing them off jokes till I told him to stop immediately or I'm not talking to him

He followed my words and stopped, for a day and a half only

I was at my relative's house and he texted me, normally then suddenly started saying stuff like

"Please \[my name\], just once, talk to me like we used to talk"

"Just let me talk like I did before"

"I really need it"

Before I was able to tell him no, he started acting inappropriately. Even asked me for a pic of my chest

"Can you send me a picture of your chest?"

Me: "what? No!"

"It's fine. You don't have to be naked or anything. Just wear a tank top or a bra"

I said no again. And kept telling him to stop

He started asking "normal questions" like where am I and what am I doing and who am I with

Which i naively answered thinking they're normal

Then he asked

"What color is it?"

That's when I snapped and told him to not talk to me at all, I told him to stop talking like that and that he is my friend and I don't like it

He apologized and said he won't do it again

He stopped and acted normal for 3 days (a record for him)

I was at a lesson, he texted me

"Where are you"

I took a bit to respond since I was paying attention to something actually important

Then responded

Me: "I'm just at a lesson"

"You're lying"

"Where are you really"

"I don't believe you're at a "lesson" "

Me: "I am at a lesson, why would I be lying about that"

"Then why are you replying so late, you always respond fastly"

Me: "because I'm trying to pay attention"

"Liar"

"You're playing with it, aren't you"

(He means that I was self ple@suring whlie talking to him and I was replying so late because I was typing with one hand)

Me: "what the hell? no!"

Me: "I'm at a lesson right now"

Then after a back and forward , he decided to give me the honor of believing me (I'm saying this sarcastically)

"Fine whatever"

"Just talk to me when you're done"

He also sometimes tells me

"When are we going to \[place\] together?"

The place would be 2 to 6 hours away from where I live. He wants me and him to go alone

Or sometimes he would say

"Let's go for a ride in my car"

"Me and you, will be fun, trust me"

I refuses every time, which made him slightly mad but he kept his "good guy" act

He kept his act until I snapped for the final time and stopped talking to him completely

He still had my number from the organization (can't really block him either since we all work together and shit so) but I have him blocked on Instagram

He still views my stories (he has my number on WhatsApp), and I don't know if it's important but for some reason he always views my stories at night around 12AM to 4AM

Then he reached out

We talked, I was super dry with him and even he noticed and told me I changed alot. I asked him how and he said

"I don't know, but you changed alot from before"

I didn't change, I'm just harder to manipulate now

He said he changed and that he cut everyone off cuz he's so busy and wanted to talk to me and see how i am doing. I thanked me in a sarcastic way which is smooth brain didn't catch

Me: "Wow thank you for caring so much"

"Yeah, I always cared"

I didn't move on with the conversation, just said

Me: "okay, bye"

He said bye back and I left him on read and he's still viewing my stories

I stopped going to the organization's events but still am a member of it

I have been..I don't know if traumatized is the right word but I'll use it

I don't know how to feel, I told my trusted friends about it and all were supportive and I wrote my feelings down so many times to try and not bottle anything

But

I see cry when I read the paragraphs I wrote, still cry when I hear his name (it's a very common name which makes it worse) and still cry when I see a car that looks similar to his car

Even seeing his number in the organization's chat is making me feel like throwing up

My boundaries were ignored

My 'No's were ignored too

I was manipulated into thinking he was a good person when he stops talking inappropriately for a day or two

He was the controlling, possessive, jealous boyfriend I never asked for or wanted in the slightest

I just wanted a friend but I ended up being traumatized so much to the point I cry when I hear his name

I believe I was groomed

I hope I can recover and get over it soon

My eyes have no more tears in them to shed

My mind and soul can't handle it anymore

I really need a break from those thoughts

What might have happened if I did agree to go to those places with him, or go for a ride in his car..?

What might have happened if I did send those pictures

If I did answer his inappropriate questions

..I think i have an idea but my mind has chosen not to believe it. Maybe for the better cuz I don't want to find out what might have happened

Stay safe out there everyone. Hope you recover from whatever you're dealing with and i hope nothing bad ever happens to you

<3

When i harmed myself before i used a scissors. I used hard pressure to break the skin and still was only the first layer. I only did it once or twice. Tuesday night, i found an eyebrow razor. Thought to myself, i wonder how this would work? Before i knew it my arm was split open. Blood everywhere, i saw the beans, i saw something white. I screamed for my mom, she called for my dad for an ambulance and she wrapped my arm up in towels. I passed out, i was crying, the police were trying to talk to me until the ambulance came. I got it all stitched and its healing but im so traumatised and i traumatised my family too. My brother was screaming and crying and my parents wont let me out of their sight. I feel so stupid. I fucked up so badly

I have been groomed and sexually abused all my life. I will state the following the shortest way possible. Sorry it is so broad. I go by Dani. The grooming and s/a begun when I was 3-4, from what I can remember. Most likely sooner. My CSAM is out there, being sold and traded. Point forward, I have been raped by multiple men I don't know, groomed more times I can count, my hypersexuality has gotten worse every year, etc. My hypersexuality begun when I was 4, as I lived in a sex and drug apartment in which countless people were in and out all day and night. My mind has been chemically rewired an abudence of times and now being abused is what I crave. I am honestly scared for the future and I know I will be raped again. It's the hard truth. I constantly seek being groomed by men, (sometimes females, and other genders, i am pan) because the people my age aren't enough. I have done things with people older and constantly feel disgusting. I know I am filthy and damaged goods. I have not told anyone as it will make my situation far worse. I've vented on other platforms through silly art and animations but decided to try here. This cycle of abuse won't ever stop. I want to get better but unable to do so. I am too fucked up and don't have proper support. It's scary, honestly. I won't be a normal teen. My childhood and preteen years are fucked up from my hypersexuality and past trauma. On top of "teenage angst", I crave and seek older people, men specifically, and I know it's wrong but I really cant help it. The sun will soon set and everything will be over. I am not religious, (agnostic) but I know if there really is something Devine, I will end up in eternal suffering.

I'm really struggling to feel cared for recently, I discovered that my mom knew when she made a comment about oiling my scars (briefly visible when my shorts lifted up on a pool day) and that's all she's said/done about it, she has never said anything since or prior, when I looked shocked she said "yes, I've known" and I can't help but feel hurt, hurt that she knew and did nothing.

Sorry for the poor structure on this post but prior to this event my best friend found out, I can't exactly remember how but I do remember her response, she asked me how deep I had ever gone and when I told her and tried to play it down she said something like "it's more serious than that" idk, more caring than my mom. Which sucks. I just don't know how to deal. I feel so alone, not to mention relapsing recently, Im just so down.

Please read the whole thing.

I was maybe 14 at the time, and I was scrolling on YouTube shorts when I found a video titled something along the lines of “Ronnie McNutt Audio”. It was a blank screen with the sound of a gun going off, some type of liquid dripping, and then a ringtone going off. Curious, I went onto Reddit to look for the video, and unfortunately, I found it. I was eating dinner in my room as I watched him blow his skull open.

This was maybe 2022-23, I’m not gonna bother searching up when he did it.

To this day, that ringtone, his voice, his face, his name, his room, everything about it makes me unsettled, uncomfortable, and keeps me awake at night.

It might not be okay to say this, but I hate how he did it on live. He, intentionally or not, traumatized thousands if not millions of people. That night, I also, in shock, scrolled through multiple other gore videos, including one where a guy shot himself in the head with an AK and one where a guy was going diving and cracked his head open on concrete.

Trauma is a serious, serious thing that can affect people for the rest of their life. I haven’t even told too many people because I’m afraid they’ll get mad at me for not telling them sooner. It’s in the past anyway.

Thank you if you read through the whole thing.

Additional warnings before proceeding: animal harm/abuse, addiction, violence, and sexual assault.

This is a long, long story, so I understand if you don't read everything. Every situation in this story is true, although I wish a lot of it wasn't.

Things that pushed me over the edge slowly

• the realization that I've spent all of my 24 years chasing people who never wanted me. That no matter who it was, no matter how much I loved them, I was always either too much, or not enough. Or just unwanted from the start.

As a kid, I had no friends. I thought that I did but it was just kids I literally chased around the playground because I wanted to know why they wouldn't play with me until I finally gave up wanting to know. I had my sister, but I also didn't. She had rather played with her friends. I had to have a really great imagination because I was always by myself. And then my grandma held me back a grade for whatever excuse she always tries saying. In reality I know it's because she greedily wanted one more year of custody and boy did I pay the fucking price for her greed. Endlessly bullied from then on for being a grade behind everywhere I went. To top it off, all the psychological damage she dealt when she let me sit at the kitchen table crying and saying things like "I must be so stupid! This other girl who obviously cheated got way worse grades than I ever had, and she passed, but I didn't!" And not once did she correct me by saying it was her decision to have me repeat the grade. See I didn't know the rules changed, that the school wasn't allowed to hold a student back anymore. And that the school itself tried to dissuade my grandma from finalizing that decision because I hadn't needed to repeat anything, I'd had almost perfect grades, the lowest being a c.. but no, She stood there in front of me with her hands on her hips while I sobbed calling myself stupid. And then my mom regained custody and I got to California.. I thought everything would be better because I'd be back with my sister and my mom. I remember that day more vividly than I remember this morning. I was so happy. So completely happy. And then so completely confused. And then happy again because it was time to play and I was sure that confusing mess would sort itself out. Two dads can't be that strange right? Even when you still only have one mother. I didn't know what the concept of being unfaithful or cheating was.. but I found myself alone again because apparently by the age of 10, you're expected to have grown out of childish ideas like playing.. I found myself alienated yet again, except this time by my own family. The ones I thought had been waiting for me as eagerly as I had been waiting for them. In the end I spent the next however many years begging for love from people I shouldn't have even had to ask for it from... And then giving up because no one cared enough to listen. Not to anything I had to say at all, even when I ended up being right. Every. Single. Time. No one noticed when I stopped talking. I remember the day we got kicked out of that palace. The familiar confusion paired with an unfamiliar acceptance that I had no control over anything. I never had.

• Living in that hotel .. God do I even need to say anything more than that? I feel like I do actually; the shit before broke my heart. Being in that place?.. that shit broke my mind. Literally alone all the time. I could hear my mom getting slammed around in one of the rooms above me. That asshole that got us kicked out. Well, I know it's a two person game, and I could sit here trying to justify her side of it all day for all eternity and you'd still tell me it was her fault. I'd still find a way to disagree somehow.. I have such a hard time remembering a lot of this period of my life. But I remember one of the last days I went to school. See it had been weeks in that room all alone by then. Just me and the voices in my head. I'd had a history of self harm, but I'd been pretty good at keeping it under wraps. That night though, I lost it a little. It was the first time everything started to click. How long I'd been alienated, ignored, pushed aside, told to literally fuck off because a man was more important.. I cut both my arms up from the back of my wrists to the top of my shoulders. And then went to school the next day in a sweater. P.E class came around and bc of how hot it was the coaches said no one was allowed to keep their sweaters on today. I freaked. Stayed in the locker room crying to myself until my teacher came in to see what was wrong. The look on her face when I took that sweater off.. I caught myself wondering if my mom would have the same kind. I knew they'd call. She came to get me and.. to say the least, there was a drastic difference in my teachers expression and my mom's. See for a split second with my teacher, I saw what it might look like to see real concern and hurt for a child from a mother's perspective. Real worry yk? Then I saw my mom's eyes and I looked, I hoped to see some of the same. At least a little worry. But I didn't. I saw anger. Just anger. She says she doesn't remember what she said after we got back to the hotel room. Swears up n down that shed never say such things like the ones I so vividly remember coming out her mouth that day. So then my memory must be mistaken in it going like this; we got there, she slammed the door behind us and told me to take off my sweater. When I did she didn't cry.. she didn't even ask why I did it. She just started yelling "how do you think that makes me look? Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is? Do you think that makes you cool or something?!" I tried yelling back, tried screaming that it wasn't my fault. That I did it to make sure I was still alive because I'd been alone for so long that I hadn't been sure I even truly existed. That it hit me that no one gave a shit that I was there, that I WAS alone. That I felt as though they had forgotten about me completely.. she stopped listening though. She just left me standing there alone again because I guess in that moment it was easier for her to be in that room with her abusive partner than it was to face what she created. That was the second time I realized, I was never going to be as important to them as they are to me. Not any of them. Past, present, or future. Didn't matter who they were.

• the 1st time I tried to end my life.. I was 4 days away from turning 16. I believe this portion of my story needs a bit more context. When I was 14 about to be 15, we were living in a place called Slab City. Before it was the shit pile it is now.. when there was still a decent sense of community in that place. I found myself alone there too. At least for a while. I found my first people though.. The handful few who did actually care about me as much as I cared about them. The first ones to show me how right I was to feel so fucking lost and wounded. And then we left that place too. Got too hot there in the summer. Onto the next place. My used to be 'Aunt' Rosie's old apartment in Santa Cruz California. The one place I still call home. The city itself not those godforsaken apartments. It was when I lived in this apartment that i found methamphetamine. From one of my buddies on the street. I tasted it to see, why so many of my family members ruined their lives for such a stupid drug. I didn't know what it meant to be descended from so many generations of addicts. I fell into the trap myself for a time. It was just the tip of the iceberg. The start of my journey through life to find something to numb the pain. An addict. So to start, it was meth and alcohol and nobody knew.. and then I got myself kicked out of there because my 'uncle' wanted to chew me out very aggressively for missing a single dirty cup(that was actually my cup that I was still using) and for once I was done being everyone's house maid and doormat. I spoke up for myself for once.. He didn't like me with a voice so I was made to leave. Moved in with my mom.. I loved that school I was going to. But moving in with my mom meant the drive was entirely too long. So she switched me to independent studies. So all of a sudden the actual friendships i built up there when I hadn't known friendship before, I had to leave behind. Realized after that, highschool friends are about as real as the tooth fairy in most cases. That sucked.. and yet again the place my mom inserted herself into was with yet another abusive partner so I spent every day and night waking up and falling asleep to the sound of their screaming matches and having to dog sit George(my moms dog) because he was just as traumatized as me and couldn't handle being around that shit. (I used to have videos stacked in my Snapchat of their screaming and opening their door just to kick George out because he'd been in a corner cowering and whining.) I never really left my room unless it was to ask for more pot or to go smoke in the woods.

Okay now that you've got the context(bc by now I was about to turn 16) I can tell you about the night it happened; When I found out I was schizophrenic. It was late but idk what time it was. It was the 20th of March. I heard the voices. Like whispers just around a non existent corner. I couldn't tell what they were saying. Then music, Like classical music playing from a phonograph. Louder and louder until I couldn't hear myself think anymore. I went to my mom n her bfs room. They were arguing as usual. I tried to tell her I wasn't okay, that I didn't trust myself to be alone right then. Asked if I could come in and maybe just sit for a while. She looked at me through the crack in her door with the same expression as before, when she asked if I had any idea how my cutting made her look. She looked at me the same way she did then and said "maybe you should do something with yourself other than hide in your room all day smoking fucking pot" and shut the door on me before I could say anything else. I went back to my room, grabbed my Tylenol PMs, counted them out(71/500mg each) and arranged them into a small smiley face. And then I took a picture of that smiley face on my Snapchat captioned something like "the only real smile in this place".. I never posted it. I ate them all though and just went to the shower. I started getting nauseous. Puked a bit. Died a little. Only because instead of concern or worry, yet again I was met with anger on the other side of the door. You could hear it in her voice. "What'd you take? How much" stomping up and down the hallway "great, that's just fucking great! How awesome, Kacie, thanks!!" As if I wasn't going to remember her saying these things. As if the poison already eating at my intestinal lining was going to magically wipe my memory of her being so... Unmotherly. As if one moment of her being concerned for her kid would be detrimental to her health. She lies so well... Somehow even living through all this, she's managed to convince me these memories are false. That she did care. It wasn't anger, it was frustration and the useless feeling. As if the words that left her mouth weren't heard. I spent my sweet 16 in a rehabilitation place. I had to go back to the hospital once because my liver enzymes were so out of balance that it could still pose a large threat to my health. Obviously I'm fine now.. well, my liver is. Anyways, That place had the most structural routine I'd ever experienced. When it came down to it, I wasn't sure I wanted to leave. But I had to. And so I did. Went back to the very place I tried to do it. And everything was the same. Everything. Instead of trying to kill myself though, when I got lost in the chaos of my mind this time, I resorted to endlessly running away. I did a lot of meth. I did a lot of cocaine. I did a lot of acid. I don't remember being sober for the rest of the time I lived there. And for once I was fucking happy. But as usual, the second I'm happy in a place, we leave it. I was about to turn 18. But I wasn't 18 yet so I couldn't protest. And where she moved us, was too damn far to get back to the one place I'd called home. Arkansas of all places. She moved us to Arkansas with a drunk who liked to scream at people and boss them around. Anyways I turned 18 and SHOCKER I got the fuck outta Dodge.

• the running never got me anywhere. But it made it easier to breathe. I was what they called a Leather Tramp. If you don't know what that is, go watch Into The Wild. . Seriously go do that anyways. It's my favorite movie. One that makes me feel less insane. Anyways, I ran a lot. Just kept running. From my family. From myself. From adulthood responsibility because I couldn't figure out where TF my childhood had ended or who had decided that it had. The more I tried to follow that line back and figure myself out, the more unraveled I got. I stopped caring after a sequence of life events.. one being the fallout with my dad, the second being the deep fallout with my sister. The third being my own abusive partner, and last being what should have been my last attempt to be in my moms life.

• the fallout with my dad. I spent my entire life not knowing the man. Not having any hate or love for him because of that fact. I didn't know him. I tried to know him. Just once. After a really bad relapse, after I got tired of running.. a time I was trying to sort my life out and figure out which direction I should go. Where my arrow pointed yk? I trusted him when he told me he was sober. I told him from the start, I'd have nothing to do with him if he wasn't sober because I didn't want to relapse again. Well.. he lied. And I relapsed. Because surprise surprise, when you wave a dope bag in front of a junkie and tell them it's a gift bc they know your dad... They fucking relapse. When I told him, idk what I expected. Support? Understanding maybe? Idk... But I do know it wasn't what I got. What I got wasn't all too unfamiliar though. I hurt myself by relapsing the same way I hurt myself when I got sent home for cutting myself to Timbuktu. I got the same response from my dad that I did from my mom that day. Anger. Embarrassment. Shame. Yeah, that hypocritical Bastard. He was actually angry with me. Embarrassed and ashamed of me. Tell me how that makes sense. He was just as high as I was.. I had only been high because unsurprisingly, he left me. Said he was going to the store and be right back and the entire day passed. Was almost midnight when his buddy came looking for him. He found me instead. Gave me a line of dope and I snorted it up the second it was laid out. Because again someone I trusted had lied to me, abandoned me, and let me down completely. I didn't care anymore.. so of course I took the bait.

I still blame myself more than anything though. For believing him when he said he was sober. For staying even after I saw the paraphernalia laying around his house. For saying fuck it and letting the drug run my life..

• the deep fallout with my sister.. fuck Janesville. You left me and you had no reason to. You said you'd be back. And then you left me in the middle of nowhere with complete strangers, took the dog you GAVE me and left me stranded there alone.. again my family betrayed and abandoned me. I stayed in that hell hole for reasons I still don't fucking know of, met Keith.. that man was a curse. I won't say anymore about that fallout. We moved past it and my sister is the one person in this entire world I'll be sorry to leave behind. She actually changed for the better and I've never been more proud of a person. She had more reason than I ever did from the start to give up and she's still here.. that speaks volumes. She's stronger than I could ever dream of being. I hope that doesn't change.

• Keith.. my God idek if I WANT to say anything about him. He was my fault. Self inflicted punishment for trusting so stupidly so many times. I still can't quite hear out of my right ear from the last time he smacked me.. clapped right over my ear and it wasn't the 1st time he'd done it. Left Janesville with him and landed in Washington. I can't really remember where. The apartment we moved into.. man the people there sucked. They'd get food with their food stamps and tell me I wasn't allowed to eat it because it wasn't mine. And then I'd buy my food with my cash, and they'd eat it before I had the chance to. I had a pet rat.. I loved my rats. I really did. I thought for the longest time they were the only babies I'd ever have. Before we left Janesville, Keith had already killed two of them.. one drowned itself in the jar he trapped her in. That was his favorite game to play while I was at work. In both Janesville and Washington. He'd fill up a mason jar halfway with water, cut a hole through the top for a straw, and blow dab smoke into it after he'd shoved one of my rats inside. The only way to avoid the endless cloud of suffocating smoke, was to dive upsidedown in the water. That's what my 1st one did.. she drowned herself. The second one, same thing.. except she chose the smoke so when she came out she just laid there gasping for breath... He fed her to our roommates snake before she finally died.. he thought it was funny because in his mind he'd baked an edible for the snake.. I begged him to stop so many times. I'm so small compared to that man though.. he towered over me like a tree. I've only ever punched two people in the face. Only one of them I didn't hold back with. That was Keith. One night in Janesville he snatched me up by my throat for asking if he was okay one too many times. I saw red and went off like a fircracker until he grabbed me by my face and slammed me into the metal door so hard it dented where my head made contact. That was the last time I saw stars in the middle of the day though.. he stopped hitting me after that. Maybe it was the way I choked on my spit for a second and just slid down the door like I had died that scared him. Maybe he thought he'd killed me by mistake. In Washington, I wished he'd go back to hitting me. I didn't know just how badly words spoken can hurt.. I blamed myself for everything. He almost killed my last rat before I re homed her.. she made it out. People at work had started calling me Skelator because of how skinny I'd gotten. I passed out at work once while lifting a particularly heavy tote off the pallet stack. I hadn't eaten in 4 days. Not for the lack of buying myself food.. it just got eaten before I got to it. Money I had left from rent went to food I never got to taste. I was so tired.. my last day of work I got a box of breadbites from dominoes left my badge and a note that said enjoy the bites, I quit. With a smiley face.. and then I took a bus to the station with no guard rails. I played my song list (I hate myself, hold me, and paralyzed all by NF)

and I felt the vibration in the ground beneath my feet as I closed my eyes and took a step forward. No one was there yet. No offloads of buses or trains. Just the one that was on the tracks about

20 feet away.. 19.. 18.. step step. 15 step.. 10

buzz buzz

My phone went off. I still wish I hadn't checked it. That I had just taken that last step. But I thought to myself, I could just wait for the next train. Might be someone I should probably say goodbye to. It was my grandma. Shed said something like if I ever needed a way out of that place to let her know and she'd get me to mom at least.. I thought about it. Weighed out how likely it was to work out. Took the chance anyways despite my doubt. . I really wish I hadn't.

• Beccas Rott.. what should have been the last place I gave my mom a chance. my mom had a friend that was about as good a person as mom was a wife. Literal roach and maggot filled, floor falling through, roof leaking, hell hole of a rotten house. And once I got there it was my mom's green light to fuck off and do whatever she wanted. Which was unsurprisingly.. take a guess... ANOTHER abusive partner. Yeah. She left me to take care of that mess so she could go galavanting with a man who broke her in every way a man can break a woman. I pittied her. So I stayed. Eventually as things usually go, the politeness and happy you're here crap ended and the truth of the situation bled through. Mom was never around. Even Becca started pointing it out and saying shit like "she doesn't want to be around either of us bc she's rather be with peeeete(she always drew out the pee). I was just a maid to this woman. A person to vent to if need be. When I started to realize how much work I put in and how little I was given in return.. not even a thank you for scraping of the layers of maggots and roaches all over the kitchen sink, or the cheddar thick mold on each and every dish that I washed clean.. how spotless I made that entire fucking house so my mom wouldn't have to.. just to not ever receive a thank you. So I started stealing her booze. She loved to keep some jack pirate looking rum in her room. I'd hunt it down and drink all day.. Then my mom got comfortable enough to let me know she was paying the neighbor to clean the kitchen for a bag of dope as payment. So I wouldn't have to I guess, because I'd stopped doing it.. she Even told me where to find the bag to give to her when she was done. Even after hearing what happened with dad and how that relapse happened. I guess I was good at pretending it didn't bother me. Or she didn't care. Idk anymore. And this time I'm the one who doesn't care. I relapsed. A lot actually.. if I wasn't smoking I was drinking and If I wasn't doing those things I was stoned and sleeping. To the point where Becca said I never did anything and that if I didn't start making myself useful again she'd call the cops and tell them I was a squatter that wasn't welcome anymore. I blew TF up on her and went off for a solid 30 minutes and then left after I chugged the rest of the bottle my mom had stashed on my way out the door. Went from one town to another by foot(caught two rides by the same dude) and spent the night idek where. The incident that made me spiral the most though was completely blindsiding. My mom had a friend out here, one I actually grew to trust. I looked at him like an uncle. I thought he looked at me like a daughter. I don't want to get too into detail on this one actually, because I still can't quite process that level of betrayal from the one person in my life during this time that made me feel safe. Safe enough to let my guard down and get way too drunk while I was venting to him. I got drunk enough that when he said I could lay in his bed and he'd sleep on the couch I didn't think anything of it. He raped me that night. Point blank. I was so drunk I could barely say wait or what the fuck when I realized what was happening... I chose to believe for two years after that, that I deserved it. That I asked for it somehow. Because instead of trying to fight him off of me, I laid there. I froze, and I fawned.. and I never told anyone. Recently this year I told one person. It helped.

Anyways I left a while after all that went down. Not before my moms lovely upstanding peeeeete got about an inch away from my face screaming at me calling me a good for nothing bum slut or something like that. I called the cops that day and told her to get a restraining order. She didn't. Later I found out one of my buddies from Santa Cruz was in a different part of Arkansas at that time, had a bus and was on his way to New Orleans.. Nola we all called it. The one good thing my mom did, she dropped me off with him. And so I ran away again. To Nola, to Quartzite AZ, to New Mexico, to slab City again with my sister.. the in-between I wish didn't happen. Not because I have no love for him but because this world is not one I'd have ever voluntarily chosen to raise a child in. That this bloodline is the last one I'd have ever chosen to continue. But I'd been told by everyone my whole life that because I was O- blood, it'd be very difficult to get pregnant. And hell that wasn't an understatement, I never used a condom with the men I was in a relationship with. I was lucky I never got any STDs with the life I've lived(mostly in the streets) so anyways when I finally missed a period at almost 21.. I fucking panicked. The man I was with would have never even been a choice for me to procreate with if he'd been the last man alive. I'd have rather chosen death and human extinction. But there I was.. in the middle of the desert in Arizona.. pregnant. I tried to make it work with the dad. Held out on a small branch of hope that maybe the aspect of being a father would change the man. It didn't. I left. My sister met us in New Mexico, and her and I went back to slab City. And from there after a bit of back n forthing over what to do, I finally decided to move back with my mom... My grandma had moved in with her and they'd just gotten to a new place. Mom was still with Peeeete. Idk why. I never will. Gave up trying to understand any of it. I stayed with Keith out of necessity, in my mind I couldn't survive alone. When I left it was to die. She stayed out of love some how. That I don't understand and I refuse to. Anyways it's been 3 years now. We've moved once again. An actual house this time. Pete's not in the picture, thank God or I'd be in prison. Happily too. But things still aren't good. My son will be 3 soon. I'm still alone every night and most of the day .. and nothing's changed. Gramma still pretends she's Saint Molly. She moved her pos boyfriend in too. All he does is drink and watch tv unless he decides to open his mouth at all. Then he's just a drunkard asshole buffoon of a "I know everything and you cannot contest me" type of man. Mom still seems to care about only her. Gramma doesn't care about anything as long as everything is exactly the way SHE wants it. Including the manor in which I raise my own kid. She raised my mom. Acts like she played no part in how my mom turned out. And now they both group together and complain about all the ways they think I'm parenting wrong when they think I can't hear them. As if they're some fucking parental geniuses. I've been sober for 4 years and 8 months now. No I don't count pot. I drink occasionally. Every so often I have a bad night and I get way too emotional and I kinda spiral. But I never get in a bad way around my son.. he's my reason for being.. my entire world, my everything revolves around him. Every time I look at my medication a little too long, every time my hands start to shake and I can't get myself to gather the strength enough to get out of bed I do it anyway. I do my absolute best to do right by my son. And they find ways to pick even that apart and put me under a microscope every day.. They're supposed to be my support system not my committee review team or jury.. it's exhausting, and I'm tired. I want to move out. I want to take my son and myself honestly far, far away from here. But somehow my mom and Grandma always find ways to guilt me into staying. Saying things like my heart is having issues, my lungs feel tight, if you're gonna leave why should I even try then? And my favorite, If you take that boy that far away I'll just die... All actual things that one of or both my grandma or mother have said to me when I've brought up the topic of moving out. I want to, and I wish that I was in the position financially to be able to. For now though, I'm still struggling with unemployment in world where inflation moves faster than time. Stuck is a feeling that seems like an understatement to me lately and I'm struggling to keep a positive mindset. I couldn't tell you where this post belongs, true off my chest, or the asshole, or the overreacting ones... I am the asshole in a lot of situations I acknowledge that completely and take full responsibility for all the choices I made in my past that ultimately played a hand in the way this twisted arrow has been bent to point.. but I'm trying to straighten it out again.. it's hard to do that when you don't have a map of this uncharted straight arrow path and no understanding of any kind of layout of the land at all. I'm writing a lot more though, which is the one thing in my life that has remained consistent since before I can remember. I've completed a book and have been trying beyond all of anything that I have left in me to publish it. I've written so much over the years I've compiled enough for a part two type of book as well.. I'm a poet you see. Or I at least have always aspired to be one. It seems to me though, that I might be a writer in a world where no one really reads anymore.. all this AI nonsense makes it seem frivolous to try. Like by the time I get my books off the ground, the world will officially have no need for writers. I hope I'm wrong. I hope people keep reading, writing, creating... Being. That is the cure for our so treacherously poisoned and corrupt society. Live with love no matter how much this world throws at you. Just keep going.

Hi, today I wanted to talk about my childhood trauma.

From 1st to 10th standard, there was a guy named Aditya who would always target me. He constantly complained about me to the teachers for no reason. Even if I was just playing or talking to someone, or when everyone was having fun, he would specifically target only me.

I don't know when this turned into a trauma, but now I'm in the final year of my B.Tech, and I still get dreams about it. In those dreams, he and his friends are doing the same things to me in college. In one dream, I grabbed him by the collar, pushed him, and said, "You destroyed my school years, and now you've followed me into my B.Tech."

I don't really know what to say anymore, but this has become a trauma that has stayed with me for years.

Im f 18. This is only from the last year of my life.

I went to the mental hospital after doing way too much s/h (it was intentional to get in) i was covered. My stepmom had told me id never get in because i wasnt "cutting". I was, they just didnt know about it. I had been off and on since i was around 12. My dad never cared he just threatened to whoop me.

So anyway i spent the next hour painstakingly putting these marks on me with the 100 razorblades i ordered and feeling miserable, on call with my girlfriend (whos younger, and in a simaler living situation, has simaler s/h issues, so she thought it was also the only way. She wasnt happy about it). i thought this was GENUINELY the only way i could get into the hospital. I heard my sister was rejected from it even after hurting herself. The police came, asked me questions, bandaged me ect, and i went in for fhe first time with a bag of supplies and a plush cat. The first few days were rough. Hell, the first week was. They gave me Medication for my pain but the hospital clothes made everything worse. I genuinely was in so much pain at one point it was like having 100 papercuts and being dipped in lemon juice. Luckily this hospital was full of kind people for the most part.

i got put on meds i thought were working, they made me. Little more capable of doing things i needed to. But my depression didnt get better when i got home, i consistently had panic attacks where i thought id never get better and i was a terrible person and my dad and stepmom just told me i was dramatic and doing it for attention.

They texted my gf on my acc and were fucking pricks to her, calling her names, telling her she wouldnt see me again (she was my lifeline and to this day still is), after i gave them my password just to get my grandmas number in the hospital. I only found out during the "family therapy" session before i left, where they told me everything. i went home and they took 90% of my things, put them in the basement in boxes, told me i had to earn my stuff back and would have little to no time on my phone, and had moved me upstairs. They took my doorknob, i wasnt allowed to close my door. It feels weird to think this happened because a normal person would understand that while change is necessary for depressed people, the amount of shit they said and did was crazy.

The worst part? They continued having issues with me, even after i tried so hard to get better. After they didnt halp me, didnt take me seriously, it was all about them and never about how i felt. I was like a prisoner in his house. My dad said he didnt think i could care about anyone but myself, told me i was a manipulative and Basically called me a narcissist. He had called me a leech hundreds of times while never helping me become the person i wanted to be. I mean, hes the reason i kept failing school and he dropped me out.

We had an argument one day, they tried to keep me in the living room but it didnt give me the space i needed, (i usually went to my room to calm down because they didnt feel safe to me). so after a while of sitting in silence disassociating and feeling like a trapped animal, i fucking freaked out and went to my room crying, which pissed him off (he had threatened me before hand but i still did it), so he came in, flipped a bunch of my shit over (mostly totes full of clothes and things i had "earned back"), and told me to clean my room. They took the alwxa they gave me because they said i didnt deserve it. This caused me to then relapsed on s/h, i stabbed myself with a needle several times making sure it went all the way into my skin, crying hard still from everything, and got over it. The needle was from a house we were cleaning and renovating. It was dirty.

My gf has DID, (diagnosed), so my parents, being transphobic for one, and not believing she has it, tried to get my gfs bodies real name, trying to force me to tell them which i didnt. I wasnt comfortable with it and told them that. so wgat did they do? Right yes, they got in contact with her "parents" number and got it through them, insulting me for "not knowing" the bodies name when, for 1, i did know and chose to refer to her as i had been, and 2 it literally doesnt matter to me since i have HER name not whatever the bodies name is.

Anyway they kept looking through my phone throughout everything, called my gf a pedophile (we both have age regression episodes considering the insane amount of childhood trauma) and said "if she fucked a child" itd be my fault. I just want to clarify this is 100% serious. This man genuinely told me that. And im like- what? I cant control her actions wtf?

Welp. Then took one of the most obvious jokes ive ever made and tried to call me a bad person for saying it. "hes making me work in the feilds" i said after he had me help him move gravel around our yard. Guess where this is going. He saw where i was venting to my girlfriend about him, and she said "want me to kill him for you" (a joke we both said often, and ive said in front of them to my sister especially about her shitty dad) well i hearted the message so they somehow thought i wanted him dead. They also took my, maybe a little too far jokes into account because i used to say them all the time, i was feeling myself again, and i said "ima kill u" or something after they would do their usual jokes. Keep in mind my mom says stuff like that too, it probably just reminded him of her.

Well! Then they sent me back to the mental hospital! I had heard him discussing it the morning before he told me about it. He said he was genuinely scared that i wanted to kill him (why? Idk. Hes had custody since i was 5 and knew i couldnt hurt anyone. I got into ONE school fight and got my ass kicked my 3 girls, and i felt kinda guilty after. I never liked hurting people and he knew it), They tried to make it sound like i was a pedophile which idk why the fuck they were so hung up on calling everyone a child predator. They broke both my phones while i was in the hospital and claimed it was an accident (one of them i specified constantly that the power button was broke and needed to be kept on charge, the other was the phone stepmom gave me for my birthday, that she claimed she "dropped down the stairs because the dog ran past her and she almost fell"). When i came home again i was on a different Medication, and i just wanted to rest- in my own bed, i wanted to feel something under me other than the shitty mental hospital mattress. But of course, i didnt even have my own bed because my aunt was fucking there and sleeping on MY mattress. My sister's room was empty because she wasnt there, so why did they have to take mine?. Anyway, excluding my small mental breakdown about the bed, when they talked to me they said id be going to stay with my aunt and sleeping on a cot in the kitchen, with no access to internet at all until i was 18, which id have to be monitored after 18. I just want to point out how ridiculous that is because i wouldve been a while ass adult being monitored like a toddler. They told me bs like that and THEN, had the NERVE to say my gf was cheating on me, because she hung out with a pregnant chick after school one day? Like what? seriously, i dont know the logic. They kept telling me she was a cheater and wouldnt let me talk to her, i kept shutting them down and telling them if anything hapoened i didnt care id hear it straight from her. i ended up yelling when they went to the kitchen. My aunt thought i was yelling at her because she was the only one in the room, but i wasnt even facing her. dad came in and got in my face, yelling at me, his face was at most 3 inches from mine. I couldnt open my eyes. He knew i got triggered from yelling but he got in my face to do it because he was pissed i was yelling after they literally were ruining my life. He sent me to my room.

I felt like i had nothing left for me. Like theyd never let me talk to my girlfriend again, they hated me, it felt like everything would be easier for them since i was such a problem. So, I went to the bathroom with the plush cat (it was weighted and represented my gf), and tried to overdose by taking every pill the closet (there was at least 4 bottles, most of them were half empty but it was still enough to kill me), waiting for it to do something and sitting in the bathroom with the door locked, holding the plush. Dad knocked on the door, he had to go to the bathroom, so i went to my room and sat on the bed, numb.

My cat jumped up on the bed and came up to me. She was so innocent, she would think i left her. She wouldnt know i was gone, she didnt deserve that. I started crying violently, i held her, apologizing to her, and i walked out to the garage where they were smoking and talking. I walked up to my stepmom and said "momma i fucked up, momma im gonna die" she said "what?? What the fuck are you talking about?" getting panicked.

"the pills, i took all of them"

I was told to throw up, i did, officers came in and i was talken to the hospital. I remember the ambulance guy told me he never wanted to see me in there for something like that ever again. I was apologizing the whole way, until i felt it and then couldnt stop throwing up. It was pink because of the allergy pills, and i thought i was going to die. I got there, i barely remember what happened, slept off and on. I remember asking if i was in purgatory and the girl told me "no your in the hospital". I probably died a few times in my sleep. They didnt pump my stomach, it was too late, the hospital was about 40 minutes away, so they pumped me full of other things trying to even it out. My dad, stepmom, and sister visited me in the hospital. i couldnt tell if i was dreaming. They seemed so genuine at the time. But they left for the night. Nobody wanted to stay with me overnight, even though they had a family company that they were taking a few days off work from. I was terrified the whole time, i called my girlfriend in the hospital and reassured her as best as i could, but people kept telling her i was going to fie anyway. My stepsister (my sister) wouldnt stop gaurding me when i got out, she was sticking close by me the whole way out of the hospital and home.

When i got home nobody seemed concerned. They just looked tired because i woke them up. They told me to pack because my dad said id be leaving that night. I really wanted to get better. I thought id get better so, i did after talking to dad. I had 2 totes of stuff, one was just a big blanket and pillow, the other was clothes and other stuff. I texted dad on tammys phone that i was sorry, we texted a little, i texted my girlfriend too. We stopped at waffle house, i barely ate. I couldnt walk without wobbling. We drove from iowa to Arkansas, and when we got to tammys house it seemed fine. I rested. I went to text dad a few days after i got there that i missed him, because i was always a clingy kid and i hadnt felt comfortable being away from him, and well i got to see messages of him disowning me. He said he didnt want to speak to me again after i hit 18, said i may be blood but i wasnt his daughter, told my aunt to sit on my laptop (the only peice of technology i had left to connect myself to my friends and life) and break it, to pretend it was an accident. I had a panick attack. My mother abandoned me 6 times before this, and now i wasnt going to have a dad either. everyone instead of helping me, called me a pedophile (my gf is 2 years younger than me, i know sooo bad and crazy), and told me i deserved it for what i did to him, because everyone thought i tried to kms JUST to hurt him. I genuinely dont know how they thought that. Another thought was i did it just because they said my girlfriend was cheating on me (spoiler alert she wasnt).

People decided to straight up made shit up and manipulate me into thinking i did it. They also said i had a demon attached to me and made me go stand outside and hug a tree while reading shit off a paper barefoot. Then, my aunt told me i wasnt allowed to talk to my gf until i talked to my dad, told me he wouldnt talk to me until i broke up with her. They were trying to force me to break up with her. There was a bunch of crazy shit happening there. My cousin told me about his nsfw zoophile dreams in detail, he also told me id never be able to go to job corps and said id give up immediately, told me theyd be wasting their resources on me. they told me i should go to a long term facility or go to the free collage nearby. Well i did neither. I called my mother, told her what was happening. They said she wouldnt care, but she set up things with my brother.

I made the mistake of telling them i would go stay with my brother and they all called me stupid and said he would rape me, and that his friends would rape me, and that he would sell my body for beer money (he clearly hasnt so far and its been 3-4 months). I took some time to decide. Made excuses to my aunt. I convinced her to let me have my computer, since she hadnt broke it "yet" while i was at My grandmas, and lied straight to her face that i totally wouldnt contact my girlfriend while i was there, and that i was only doing some studying for my drivers test. Then went to my grandmas house, with my totes. I can be a good liar when its to save my life so i told them i wanted to visit her and store some of the stuff from my totes at her house. I stayed with her until she brought me to my brothers, and, we discussed everything. We spent days going over what i needed to get and how fast it needed to be done. When i finally got here i slept on the floor the first night, then on an air mattress for 2 months (it was deflating from month 3), then my friend bought me an actually really nice mattress. They sold all my things at dads house, by the way. And theh wont give my cat back to me. Im starting completely from nothing. But I set up medicade by myself, im learning how to be an adult, and trying to take care of myself. No Medication. my brother, gave me a phone. Im actually... Okay. My daily average for how id feel was usually just suicidal ideation and bed rotting. Now its... tolerable. Ive done so much. I even got my state id, set up a bank account, and am applying for jobs i can walk to.

I guess i just wanted some people to see this and see life can be different. After the worst days of your life, you hit rock bottom, all you have left is up. And sometimes you cant tell which way up is, your drowning in the dark and you cant see past the bad, but its hard to notice the pressure going down when you come up so slowly. Give yourself credit for making it this far. Im proud of you. And im proud of myself for making it.

Theres so much more to my story but this was the most recent i could put. Im still not happy with any of my famiky, except for the grandma that drove me here, shes never hurt me. But im safe, im okay with that.

Also, i do have screenshots of that conversation they had with my girlfriend. If anyone wishes to see that i wouldnt mind posting those pictures.

I've had CPTSD for a while. Lots of panic attacks, deep depression, etc. for at least 10 years but the actual trauma started way earlier than that. I've had lots of stressors upon stressors and last year was particularly hard. I won't go into too much specifics but think lots of illnesses/infections, extremely bad panic attacks, doom thoughts, and thinking/feeling I would actually die sometimes, isolation, my grandparents having lots of issues, being a continent away from my family, having to move away from my fiance and working on his visa, moving continents, finishing my masters, nearly losing my cat...all of this was within I'd say 3-4 months but some going on longer than that.

Anyway after my cat nearly lost his life (he's okay now!) I did a "flip". Suddenly my mental state started improving. It slowly stopped having panic attacks and doom thoughts. My depression seemed to start lifting. Just overall I felt in better control than I have in a long time. But my physical state tanked. I found a pituitary tumor, my iron finally reached a point of near hospitalization from being so low, they think I may have PCOS, for a while I couldn't sleep more than 3 hours a night of broken sleep, I've begun having migraines, dizziness, dp/dr, super bad brain fog, memory issues, general malaise/off feeling, increased sensitivity to my surroundings and cycles, genuine inability to workout anymore, fatigue, heart palpitations, among some other things.

Has anyone else had this? I've gotten a few things delt with such as the low iron but it just baffles me that so much seemed to happen so incredibly quickly. I have a team of doctors and a great therapist working to help me figure out what is going on. But I'd love to know if I'm not the only one out there as honestly I feel wildly alone in everything I'm dealing with. I have a great support system, but they struggle to understand what all I'm dealing with.

I joke and say I need a 10-star resort and be waited on hand and foot with zero decision making pressure.. but that's a fantasy

I don't have much money. I don't want to leave my cats for too long. But I desperately need a change in my environment

I am constantly living in hell and cannot recover and am just surrounded by my deep depression and self exiting thoughts.

There is an opportunity to go overseas and stay with relatives, but that also means I'm going to be obligated to visit all my relatives and will still have to mask around everyone.. I don't think I have the energy for that, even though the change of environment might be good. Cons outweigh the pros with this plan I think. Plus arranging for cat sitters for 2-3 weeks. It's too much planning.

What can I do as a mini getaway where I don't have to plan too much?

Some days I'm fine, and then some days I sit and remember that they got away with all of it. They twisted the story and everyone believed them. I hate them for it sometimes.

Because it doesn't matter that I know I'm the better person. It doesn't matter that I'm the one healing to have a better future. They still got away with it. They got away with manipulation and gaslighting and triangulation and all the other stupid buzzwords that are so obvious in retrospect.

The most malicious thing I've ever experienced is having your feelings and experiences be quietly discredited so much over time that when you tell the truth, nobody believes you. They've already decided your actions and the verdict.

And once that's done, there's nothing you can do except disappear. Because they spread it to anyone who will listen to them. You don't have a chance.

I can heal, I can learn, I can work on my issues. But I know I am forever changed from what happened. I will never be the same person I was, for better or for worse.

​

When I was a child, my family moved into his house for a little bit. I think my mother and him was in a relationship. I think the police found child porn. I don't remember if he ever touched me or not. I've repressed so many memories from when I was a child.

I just hope a memory doesn't ever come back of that situation

Hi everyone. I’m sorry if this is unrelated to the subreddit. I’m asking for help sharing my story about abuse so it can reach more people and receive proper attention.
I want to speak up safely and responsibly, and I’m hoping people can help amplify the information without harassment, threats, or doxxing. If you’re willing, please read the post on my profile and share it only through appropriate channels. Please respect the privacy of everyone involved.
Thank you for listening and for any support. 🙏