Fuckery Update #1

Now that I got the medical part of my update out of the way, I can talk about what’s been going on in life.
Since a little after the beginning of the year, my PTSD has been working double time. Triggers nearly day, flashbacks, panic attacks, so I isolated myself. For a few months I dodged what doctors appointments I could because I didn’t want to have to deal with my health in top of everything else. I left the Facebook MCTD group because I didn’t want to be constantly bombarded with other people’s issues and the disease in my face any more than it usually is. I rarely go on FB anymore or any social media aside from Pintrest and Reddit. More ways for me to further isolate myself. What’s odd is that I’ve spent more face to face time with friends than I have in a long time which I very much enjoy and grateful for.

As I’ve mentioned in the past, I have PTSD due to emotional, psychological, physical, and sexual abuse throughout my life. That coupled with other events has done a number on me. I’ve talked about some of the abuse, but I’ve left out quite a bit. In order to understand what’s been going, I need to share three stories with you. They’re uncomfortable to read so I apologize in advance.

When I was 6 or 7 years old, my mom’s long time friend (who I love like another mom) had her son babysit myself, my brother, and another relative around the same age, (the son was 13 years old I believe) while our parents went out for the evening. I don’t know how it got to this point, but myself and my other relative were in the living room while my brother was elsewhere (I can’t remember) and the babysitter pulls his dick out and encourages us to play with it. I don’t remember if one of us touched him, both of us, neither of us, I have no recollection. I remember telling my mom when she got home and I remember nothing happening after that.

When I was 11 years old, one of my dad’s coworkers, who happened to be related to a long time family friend, took myself and his nephew (who I’ve known since kindergarten) to the circus. I don’t remember what the exact relation was, but the coworker was related to one of the women that performed, so we got to go backstage and get autographs. At some point we started walking to another area backstage and the coworker “accidentally” grabbed my ass. In front of I don’t know how many people. I remember turning around and looking at him with I’m guessing a horrified look because he threw his hands in the air and said “whoops, sorry about that”. I remember feeling like I wanted to go home immediately and get away from this 40 something year old, fat fucker. I told my dad when I got home and I remember nothing happening from there.

When I was 16 years old, I was head first into a very self destructive phase that involved meeting men off of the internet (Myspace, Hot or Not) to date them and/or sleep with them. They were all older, most by a few years, some by as many as 5 years older, and one that 26 years old. His name was Dave, he lived about an hour south of my hometown, and was in IT. He was gorgeous, and sweet, drove a brand new $70,000 Sabb, and had a nice apartment. I felt awfully proud of myself for finding a much older man that was interested in little old me. The first time we met, he picked me up in front of my house, and I walked out of the door after telling my parents I was going to my best friend’s house. We went back to his apartment and we slept together. I don’t know how long I was there, but it was late and probably past my curfew. I went to his apartment maybe 10 more times, every time he picked me up in front of house, and every time no one noticed. I remember that on one occasion I wanted to watch the movie we rented while he just wanted to have sex. I pushed his hand away several times and he begged for me to let him do what he wanted, so I let him. I was a petite 16 year old in a 26 year old man’s apartment, an hour away from home, with no way for me to get home besides him, what was I going to do? Fight him? He was easily a foot taller and very muscular, I had no chance of successfully fighting him off, so I didn’t. I was uncomfortable and wanted him off of me, but he did what he wanted and then I asked to go home. I never saw him again after that night. I never told my parents and they never noticed the much older man in the expensive car pick their teenage daughter up in front of their house.

Have you caught onto the pattern? I love my parents, but I resent them both for many things. What I resent them for most is that they failed to protect to me, not once, not twice, but three separate times that I remember. I spent a lot of my teen years intoxicated and I couldn’t toll you if I was ever sexually assaulted again. I was routinely out with older men that I met off the internet or at colleges partying with my older friends. I’m sure I was taken advantage of in my drunken state, I just don’t remember. Remembering 3 separate incidents is enough to handle and I don’t care to recall anymore if they exist.

Here’s the odd part of the story, it’s the trigger that set this whole spiral in motion. I was browsing Facebook one day and my mom’s friend posted something that showed up on my feed and it was a picture of her son, THE son, along with a link to vote for him in a culinary competition. Up until that point, I had forgotten all about what happened, but the second I saw his face, everything hit me like a tidal wave. I text my mom and asked her if I was ever sexually assaulted, because I honestly just didn’t know if what I was remembering was real or not. In response to my question she asked if I was talking about what happened with my dad’s old coworker and then those memories came flooding back and my stomach dropped to the ground. She confirmed that my recollection of what happened with the babysitter was accurate and then I asked if he was ever arrested or forced to go to counseling and she said no. She told her friend what happened and that was the end of it. So I asked her if the coworker was ever arrested and she said no, but my dad had threatened to kill him if he ever touched me again. My dad says he beat the shit out of the guy at work and almost got fired, I don’t know how much I believe that. Shock then turned into anger, I mean I don’t think I’ve ever been angry in my life. Right then and there I let loose a flurry of text messages about how her and my dad failed to protect me and that they should paid attention to their daughter, their baby. I made a post on Facebook and called my parents out on what they did which was stupid but I needed to be heard, I needed for people to know that these things happened and no one did anything. It caused a huge fight between my mom and I and we didn’t speak for a few months.

I’m still angry and resentful and disappointed and hurt. I just recently put pieces together and realized that all my anxiety and fear that I’ve carried with me for decades, is because I’ve never felt safe. I’m in a constant flight or fight state and have been for as long as I can remember. After going through 2 ill-equipped counselors, I finally found a Psychologist that I like and I feel is capable of dealing with my complex ffuckeey.

So this concludes part 1 of an update. There’s plenty more to come

4 thoughts on “Fuckery Update #1

  1. One Regular Dad says:

    I understand how it feels to live in constant fight or flight. To not be protected by the ones who’s one job was to protect you.
    I went through years of abuse, with some being sexual, which lead me to being an addict when I was 14.
    That lead to it’s own set of problems.

    I have PTSD along with a bunch other mental health issues, so I understand that living with PTSD is a bitch most days, but once you get into a good therapy routine, it can get better.

    Just wanted to let you know your not alone, and your doing a great job.

    Liked by 1 person

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