I don't even fucking know - I'm just sorry

[Expecto_Patronum...]

I feel like a piece of shit for posting so often these past few days (especially since I'm new - didn't want to drop my craziness on people who are actually suffering for real reasons) it just is nice being able to say (in a sense) these things and doubts that I still don't understand without having to talk to my family or friends or anyone and have them tell me I'm crazy or it didn't happen or to just get over it or look at me like I'm broken cause I'm not broken I'm fine I just need to understand what the fuck went on and then I'll be okay. I'm trying so hard and I've made a lot of progress thanks to some intense therapy (I'm still in therapy by the way) but even though I have great days and I feel like I will get over this and I'll be better for having gone through it, I can't help but feel like I'll never really get there cause I know in the pit of my soul that I don't deserve it cause I am truly a horrible person, if I can even be called a person.
Nothing really bad actually happened to me that's the fucking thing. I had a great childhood. I love my family more than anything and can't imagine my life without them and my friends couldn't be better, honestly. But still I bitch about these things that don't matter at least they shouldn't matter because it was nothing. But still these are the things I can't stop thinking about no matter how hard I try so you don't have to listen I'm just doing this cause I need to get it out there and share this ridiculous story of mine so here goes.

The first thing I remember (about all this crap - not my first actual memory) is being about 4 or 5 and sneaking off with a cousin who is just a few months younger than me and he and I would go off and touch each other. I remember hating myself for what I was doing because I was a dirty filthy little whore but at the same time I liked the way it felt (got nauseous typing that out because I'm disgusting) and I also liked that it was something I could do that no one else could. It made me special I guess is the best way to put it even though that sounds terrible. It went on for years and I remember telling him we should stop but he said it was ok cause he was doing it with someone else so I agreed to keep doing it. It ended up turning into other things that I wasn't too keen to do and I'd ask him if we could not but he'd beg and I wanted to please him so I'd let him rub against me and do other things and I hated myself. I finally told him we couldn't when I was around twelve or so. I'd had a pregnancy scare a couple of months before my first thought was to kill myself because I couldn't tell my parents what was going on. But I didn't want to actually die and I couldn't do that to my family so I thought I'd get an abortion but I was twelve and I knew I'd need a parent's signature so that was out of the question. Lastly I thought I just have to wait to see if I get my period and if I don't in a month or so I'll worry about what to do then (I worried about it every day for a week till I finally started but I didn't know what else to say to myself at the time to calm down enough so no one else would know what was going on or guess that something was wrong.) So finally that ended.
After a few years I stared feeling depressed and angry and ashamed/guilty about everything that had happened between my cousin and I so after a few months of that getting worse and worse, I finally went to my high school counselor and told her. It felt great at the time albeit terrifying and humiliating, but I thought "someone knows" and it was such a relief until that "someone knows" really hit me and the thought terrified and disgusted me. I thought my counselor would never want to have to talk to or even look at me again because I was this piece of filth. But she helped me talk to my parents who got me into therapy (which I wasn't in for long cause I pretended I was better when I wasn't really.) I still hated myself but the intense anger and random crying spells had stopped for the most part and that's all I needed so my parents would stop worrying.

[Expecto_Patronum...]

That's when the nightmares (which I've always had) really started to get disturbing and I started hurting myself. I felt wrong, that's really the best way I can put it. Something was wrong with me but I didn't know what. I'd have moments every now and then of dissociation and panic randomly and I thought I was going insane (I still wonder from time to time that I might be). I remember thinking at that time I just wanted to be fucked because that's all I was good for but it was like no one could see that which infuriated me. I hated having to pretend to be happy when I was screaming inside and all I wanted was to be alone but when I was alone I just wanted someone to talk to and make the awfulness better. I didn't understand how no one could see what I really was, I "joked" about it all the time (they thought I was kidding when I called myself a whore but I wasn't and it pissed me off that they couldn't see that). I remember craving sex because that's all I was good for. I wasn't even a body I was just theirs (whoever wanted me could and should have me then throw me away for the next person to take). So I started dating a guy (I did little of it in high school because I was weird) and we would fool around at his house and then fucking twice and I was terrified and it hurt (still does). But he was always so gentle with me no matter what we did and I remember not understanding what he wanted but we ended up having to break up because he had to move for college and then I started talking to this other guy my friend set me up with. I didn't want to talk and I kept trying to slyly emphasize I just wanted sex without having to come out and say it cause I didn't want him to think I didn't care about the stuff he said. After a little bit of talking he agreed to stop by my house around 11 one night so we could go on a walk and then see where things went from there (I'd told him we didn't need the walk - he told me he'd feel bad just fucking without getting to know me). So that night he showed up late and drunk with a friend in his truck that he had to drop off at his friend's house. I didn't know he was drunk when he showed up and he told me about dropping his friend off so he said I could come and I got in the truck between him and his friend. I got in a car with a guy I barely knew and another guy a I didn't know at all - I was stupid. He left my house going sixty down a forty mph road and was swerving (that's when I realized he was drunk). He also offered me a cigarette (didn't ask if I cared if he smoked - I did - just asked if I wanted one and then he and his buddy lit up). By the way I'm not trying to say anything bad about people who smoke I just don't like being around it cause I know and hate someone who has always smoked around me and I've never been interested because of that. Anyway we dropped his friend off and somehow made it back to my house alive and we parked in an empty driveway in the neighborhood where no one was home cause I didn't want my parents to see this random truck in our driveway and wonder what the fuck was going on and come out to investigate (they thought I was with my friends.) So we go on a fifteen minute walk (that's apparently how long it takes to get to know someone) and then when we got back we started to make out and moved the show into his truck. Despite this being exactly what I'd wanted, I was scared, especially when he pushed my head down to his crotch. I turned my face so I wouldn't have to do anything and told him I wasn't into oral so his immediate response was to push me back, bending me uncomfortably in his small truck, and pushed my legs up (it was like he was trying to make my knees touch my head - I don't fucking bend that way) and proceeded to use his tongue on me. I was terrified. I wanted him to stop but I couldn't tell him no because I wasn't allowed and I froze for a few seconds. Then coming back I started to make noises cause I thought that would be the quickest way to get him to stop. It didn't work. He started using his fingers after that and not only was he moving my so much just from that that my head kept banging against the window but it felt like he was trying to rip me open from the inside out (I bled for two days after that and we never even had sex). The night went on like that where he'd bend me and push my face in his crotch (I ended up giving him oral just so he'd finish and I could leave but he'd stop me before he finished). It felt like hours but when I went inside it had only been forty-five minutes and I couldn't believe it. Before that though, he'd try to get on top of me and I finally told him no afraid I'd be punished for it but I kept thinking I don't know him and he doesn't have a condom, I can't get pregnant or an STD, my parents can't know about this. I ended up having to tell him no three times throughout the night (and then explaining why he couldn't do more damage to my vagina than he was already doing because he'd ask why because apparently no isn't enough of a reason not to). He ended up turning me around so I was laying down in the opposite direction I'd been most of the night and he got on top of me in the 69 position and he kept pushing himself further and further down my throat not to mention doing things to me that I didn't want (although I didn't tell him to stop I couldn't make myself say I didn't like oral again or say no one more time). I was gagging and started to panic and I couldn't breathe and I was really scared because I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how long he was going to take but I couldn't say no to him again because he hadn't gotten off but he thought I'd had several times (kept thinking if I faked it he would let me finish him off so I could go but that didn't work). After maybe a minute or so I don't even remember how I did it, but I managed to get out of that pose and I told him I had to leave and he kept trying to flatter me into to staying and finishing him off but I kept insisting I needed to go and that I was so sorry (and I was I felt awful for leaving him that way and telling him no so much) but as I was walking to my house I looked back and saw he was still there and wondered why until it hit me that he was finishing what I hadn't and I wanted to vomit. As soon as I stepped inside I took a shower and rinsed my mouth out several times but I could still feel him and smell him and taste him and I felt sick and it was so hard to sleep because I was the whore then that I'd known I was not because I'd done those things with this guy I barely knew that didn't really bother me - it was because I didn't finish what I was there to do. The whole point of that was to make him feel good but I hadn't so I was a whore and I needed to be punished. I can't remember for sure but I'm pretty sure I cut that night. It was the night before my first day of college. First day of college wasn't so great to say the least after that.

[Expecto_Patronum...]

After that I started having nightmares almost every night sometimes several a night and I also started getting triggered all the time and I had panic attacks and I'd start to feel, hear, smell, taste, sometimes see but it was mostly darkness I saw, and I didn't understand what was happening. I'd shake and try to fight off things that weren't there and I'd be able to go away for a few moments then the feelings would come back and I didn't understand what was happening and I thought I was going insane. I kept cutting and started starving myself, then I'd binge, and then I'd throw it all up so I could be empty again. I remember having a dream where a man (he looked similar to other men I'd had in nightmares who either tried or succeeded in raping me) told me that he'd been molesting me since I was one and twenty-eight months and if my math is still correct (I added it up when I woke up it was all very disturbing) that adds to three years and four months (twenty-four months = two years and then add the last four months - this math was more for me than anyone who might be reading this) and the man was staying at our house cause he was a family friend and he was staying in my room so I was on the couch in the living room and he came out to me around dawn (and i thought my parents can't know what's happening don't wake them up don't let them see me - all this is still the dream) and he told me he was going to rape me and that he was going to have to kill me. I begged him not to and promised I wouldn't say anything but he said "no, I'm going to have to kill you." and the way he said it sounded like something someone would tell a kid who wanted something that they couldn't have and other things happened in the dream but I can't remember them too well and then I woke up and was really scared. I still have these feelings but I don't know how anything like that could've happened or where because my mom was so protective but I think something happened because I still get triggered badly for no apparent reason but I can't remember anything I just have these feelings, smells, sounds, tastes, but if I see anything it's always darkness so I don't know. More than that I have these thoughts about myself and it's like I remember being told them but I don't. Like I know I'm a whore they said I was and I know it's true cause why else would they say that but at the same time I don't remember being told that exactly and it's all so confusing and I wish I just knew. I think I might just be crazy or making this up I don't know and it kills me.
If any of you have stuck around this long I'm sorry for everything I'm dumping on you and don't expect any kind of response and I'm really sorry for the fucking novel I wrote.

[Murphy]

Don't be sorry. I'm sorry that all of that happened to you. You mentioned, "people who are actually suffering for real reasons." You are suffering for a "real" reason. You've experienced a lot of trauma in your life.(I'm also of the opinion that if you're suffering, you're suffering, and you never need to justify it or prove it's worth.)

I hope you can find someone to talk to, and maybe get yourself into therapy. That's a lot of heavy shit to deal with alone. Check out RAINN (rainn.,org) and see what resources they may have in your area.

[Bioluminescence]

You're not bad or filthy because of this. What happened to you isn't the summary of who you were, who you are now, or who you'll become. We're more than our wounds. (Sounds like some hippy dippy bullshit, but it's true. )

PTSD is one of those tricky, quicksilver conditions that camouflages itself as reality. But it's not. There are some helpful videos on Youtube by Kati Morton. She's a therapist and posts a lot of videos on conditions, answers questions, and gives tips on finding the right therapist for you. I found it a nice, low-anxiety way to get information. It might help you, too.

Murphy's right. You're in a tough spot, but you've kept your head above water this far. That's no small feat. Just remember that not even the Green Berets fight alone. You shouldn't have to, either.

[loney]

I relate to your post in a lot of ways. I think your dream was maybe some sort of a dream memory. You are not a whore, I dont think anyone is a whore. Being overly sexual even when you dont want to is a common result of sexual abuse. I do it all the time...I have a lot of other problems, too...and I really try not to blame myself for all these stupid things I do as a result of my mental illness. I havent had a dream like yours yet but I suspect I will someday. I dont want to remember it but somehow I know it happened. Some people are pigs and I'm sorry so many hurt you. Please try to protect yourself from people like that. You might not value yourself yet but I do. I try to remember I am the only person I really have so I need to take care of me. Sometimes that helps.

My partner, my sons dad, my ex-husband (our relationship doesnt have a clear-cut socially-acceptable title) was sexually abused and remembers it and can even talk about it sometimes and it scares me how angry I get about it in terms of seriously wanting to harm the person who abused him, at least emotionally. I have considered sending her random threatening hate mail just so she has to live in fear like the children she destroyed who turned into fucked up adults (one of which I now have to deal with and care for and love and hate on a daily basis).

We can let those fuckers win. We have to thrive and take our fucking lives and souls back.

[loney]

That was supposed to say : We CANT let those fuckers win.