All of the above, but it came from an older half brother and nobody else knew. Severe psychological issues followed, and may even be part of the cause of a chronic pain illness that has left me barely able to walk and in constant never ending pain.
I did try to say something about the physical stuff which is where it started, but because the perpetrator had experienced physical and emotional abuse with a step parent before living with us he just turned on the waterworks and claimed I made it up to get him in trouble. He didn’t get punished, I kinda did, and that was the moment I learned I wouldn’t be listened to.
After he left home when he was old enough, I was still there and my brain mostly shut down for about 2 years, completely repressing the memories. Then they resurfaced and caused major depression, undiagnosed PTSD, panic attacks, periods of amnesic dissociation, and eventually Borderline PD on top of that. I tried therapy, but my psychiatrist kept trying medications that sadly didn’t work well, my psychologist didn’t have a clue what was going on and kept giving me questionnaires, and both of them were older men which made me terrified by default and I wasn’t wise enough to ask to see someone else.
As often it can, this did lead to some unhealthy romantic relationships. Red flags just didn’t look all that red…it took a long time to leave an abusive relationship because I was used to being treated badly. I’d even had childhood friendships where I was physically and emotionally bullied but just kinda accepted it because I didn’t have any other friends. In that shitty relationship, I actually believed that it was worth it for the “good times”, that I wouldn’t be loved by anyone else, and that somehow it was my duty in life to care for this person even though he made me miserable.
The good news, well just over a decade after the abuse ended I was able to finally tell a therapist the truth. It was tough, but I then accessed the right treatment, found meds that helped me, and worked really hard in therapy to deal with things.
Unfortunately I had lost one parent at that point, but I asked another sibling to help me speak with the other parent. I was believed, but it still hurts that they still have contact with the abuser. It is a complex mix of feelings that I often struggle with, but eventually let go because I did say when I told them everything that I didn’t want to make them choose. I think I was just hoping they’d cut off the abuser because of the severity of what they did, but I can’t know how the parent feels. It is still their child, it isn’t for me to decide how they react, I can only choose how I handle my own feelings and reactions.
I did also go to the police. I saw a specialist in historic abuse, and gave video statements with their help, but because there were no other victims and the abuser denied his actions (though apparently he admitted to some of the physical abuse) they couldn’t do anything about it. They told me it wouldn’t be worth pushing through court, no witnesses and no other victims means that the chances of it going anywhere are so slim it wasn’t worth putting me through the distress of trying.
The other good news is that I’m married now to a legitimately amazing man who has supported me in all of this, through all the therapy even when I was at my absolute worst and suffering flashbacks and strong/unpredictable mood changes. I may be disabled but I have a lot of happiness in my life and a lot of people who fully support me.
I have been tempted to write or talk more in detail about my experiences, in the hopes of helping others who have been through similar things, but it’d have to be anonymously. Like I’m doing now with my secondary MassimoL account.
If any one of you out there identified with anything I’ve said or has any similar experiences and wants to talk, please just message me. I’ll respond as soon as I’m able. You have my love and support, and you are worth far more than bad people treated you.
Oh god where to start.
Well, my mothers always hated me, still no idea why. I have an older brother (ftm trans) that shes always adored, he has a shit tonne of mental health issues, the least of which are anxiety, depression, personally I think he has some sort of schizophrenia too. So he’s the golden child, mum hates me. I started cooking for myself when I was 3 (recently confirmed by an aunt) like, deep fryer, stove top cooking. I always had to make my own lunch, get myself to school (no buses, had to walk) and didnt own a pair of shoes till I was at least 7.
My brother had everything handed to him.
I was never beaten, but that’s cause they really didn’t care enough. My father was there physically, mentally he was glued to his computers, we would have to yell his name multiple times before he told us to fuck off for disturbing him.
The house was always a pig sty, neither of them worked and money was always tight but mostly cause mum was buying fried chicken every day for lunch.
When I was 8 or so my dad started paying attention to me because mum hated us both, when I was 12 he thought I was old enough to consent to sexual relations. That continued till I was 16 and I was kicked out
Mum just hated me more and more, she blames me for “stealing her husband” and my brother has jumped on the bandwagon and accused my father of a lot of shit he would never do (call me crazy but theres a huge leap between mistaken consent (yes it’s still rape) and genital mutilation).
My father got arrested when I was 18 and my brother tried to stab me a few months later, mum stood back and let him. I havent spoken to any of them since.
I’m 24 now, I have 2 kids and I’m happily married to a psychology student, of all things. I still haven’t figured out what to do with my life and I still have a lot of CPTSD, anxiety, depression and have recently figured out I’m autistic too. But, I’ve never regretted cutting contact.
To this day my brother and mother still blame me for everything wrong in their lives, still post it on social media. All I know is I refuse to be just a victim, that’s all they know how to do and I pity them. I’m not angry anymore, just very sad.
My father is a traumatized sociopath and a narcissist. My mother is an alcoholic with depression, anxiety, adhd, and ptsd. Both of them went entirely untreated for my entire childhood. My mother has recently started medication but still refuses therapy.
I was never a happy child. My earliest memories are of my parents fighting, of being sent to my room alone for hours so that they could do drugs during the day, of my mom just crying and crying over how my father treated her. Home knew no peace. Any perceived peace was artificial, forced, and still lined with tension, ready to fall apart at a moment’s notice.
My father sexually abused me for years, and my mother has used me as an emotional trash can/emotional support eldest daughter to an extremely unhealthy, codependent, and even enmeshed extent. I remember as early as middle school, her drinking herself into a deep depression and bringing me the bullets to her gun for me to hide from her, especially if her and dad were fighting. When I told her what my father was doing she didn’t really believe me, and she has since apologized for her denial, but she is still with him and they now have a son. I’m beyond remorseful for the family he was given, but am endlessly grateful that he wasn’t born a girl. When I found out he was a boy I cried tears of relief; I’m just hoping that saves him from the sexual abuse before I have to.
Both of my parents have always been highly emotionally reactive. They’re incompatible at their very core and had me entirely too young. Neither of them seek help for their issues, and they have never shied away from displaying their worst to me. They gave me access to alcohol at thirteen, and access to weed at sixteen. I still do both today. I had a really bad bout w intense alcoholism where I would’ve died once had nobody been there to keep me from choking on my own vomit. I was eighteen. On straight Everclear. I quit November of 2018 until my twenty first birthday this year, and I’m doing a lot better w alcohol moderation.
I struggle daily with depression, anxiety, ptsd, adhd, and what I strongly suspect to be borderline personality disorder/emotionally unstable personality disorder. I’m on meds and in therapy. My father kicked me out to live with my boyfriend of- then- three months because he couldn’t handle another man touching me. I love my boyfriend very dearly and this weekend is our two year anniversary, been living together most of the time. We plan on getting married. I know I can be hard to handle and we have issues as a result of my traumas, but he makes an effort to understand where I’m coming from just the same as I’m making an active effort to heal and be better for him(well primarily myself obviously, but when motivation is hard I use him and my baby brother as motivation, a sort of ‘do it for them!’ sort of thing when I can’t seem to do anything for myself).
I am not healed. I am not mentally well. I am not happy. But I am making progress. I am cleaning my house. I look before I cross the street because I care about not getting hit by a car, for the first time in my entire memorable life. I don’t love my life yet and I hardly even like life as a whole, especially bc of the current state of both world and my country, but I no longer hate it and have a constant, underlying, passive desire to meet death. And that’s saying fucking something!
I’ve dealt w children’s services only to have my father come back, and today my biggest fear is that he won’t make an effort to be better for my brother. My mother is doing something even if it’s baby steps, but I’m seeing nothing from him. I dread the day I have to give my mother the ultimatum of leaving my father or giving custody of my brother to me. I have never wanted children. Due to trauma they make me uncomfortable so it can be emotionally draining, so I never intended on having one of my own. But because she is so complacent with him and won’t leave, there’s a very real possibility that I will have to take him from them for his own sake. He has three more years to prove to me that he has any intention of getting professional help. I’m not willing to wait until he hits puberty, I’m not risking that possibility of sexual abuse that was triggered by my own adolescence.
This is a lot more than I originally sought out to write. Thank you for anybody who takes the time to read all of this. And I also hope you find a path to peace, as well; I’d imagine this post won’t get many clicks from non-survivors.
i dont want to make the story long but it all started in 1st grade for seemingly no reason, my mom used to beat the living shit out of me everyday and that lasted till 6th grade when she saw i started to tolerate the pain and didnt shed a tear
but then it all hit from 6th to 9th grade she is still mentally abusing me, ruining my reputation everywhere i go… i even talked to my school principal about my mentall issues and the chest pain i was always having, cause of her… yet she was called in and told absolute bullshit of a lies and they actually believed it and thats my life in 9th grade
im 15 and im still being physically and mentally abused and no one believes me for shit cause my mom told lies and other bullshit about me to everyone before i could even get to them
My sister and I both victims to different degrees.
I was molested and had the predators genitals pressed against my face as they attempted to trick me into servicing them. I’ve mostly dealt with the issue and the offender is dead.
My sister was violently penetrated in her sleep, causing long-lasting physical damage in addition to mental trauma. She’s physically abused me in her past. (Non sexual)She’s abusing drugs into her 40s.
These experiences have formulated two strong beliefs I now hold:
I’ve always used comedy to cope, and that includes dark humor including rape. Nothing is off limits for an artist.
People who compare lesser sexual crimes (indecent exposure, cat-calling, sexually-aggressive DMs) to actual, penetrative rape are being AT best emotionally/intellectually dishonest.