YOU ARE NOT ALONE - A companion online community discussion board for The Mental Illness Happy Hour podcast with Paul Gilmartin

I don't know what's worse. Looking for repressed memories and finding them or looking for repressed memories and finding nothing.

I'm worried I might be a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, but I want to be the asshole who just takes that label for themselves. There are clues. I had trouble sleeping. Sometimes I would go out onto the landing after my parents went to bed and strain to hear anything moving in the silence downstairs as if there were monsters waiting in the basement.

I used to be really mean to animals and nearly get (sexual??) pleasure from it. Birds, kittens, puppies. Now the thought of hurting them repulses me. But back then, I was angry and just did it. (No animals were badly or permanently injured. I don't excuse what I did, I just want to reassure anyone here that they got the happy ending they deserve.)

My sexuality is a literal blank. I'm 29 and too afraid to initiate any contact. I don't even know what my sexual preference is. My entire identity as a sexual being is almost nonexistent. (This isn't helped by depression and the meds that treat depression, which all decrease libido.) I use bisexual as an umbrella term, but I don't even know if that applies.

Intimacy with another person is terrifying. Whether it's a professional who needs to perform an ultrasound to someone asking me out for coffee, it feels frightening and a challenge to my personal autonomy. It's a visceral fear reaction. I don't want to be seen. I think that's partly why I stay overweight, in addition to an eating and hormonal/metabolic disorder. I try to sabotage relationships before anyone can reject me (because I'm ugly and fat, ironically.) I haven't had a real relationship ever. I don't like touching people and I don't like being touched, but I'm passive about it. I'm very compliant and feel helpless when I shouldn't. I'm an adult dammit.

I have no memories of horrific abuse. I'm not even sure what I do remember is abuse. A boy my age, my friend, always kept kissing me and trying to get me into dark rooms away from our parents. (In our basement.) I remember one time he ask permission to basically get to third base. I let him, curious how it would feel. I didn't feel anything. I still don't feel anything about it. Does this count as abuse? Or just kids being curious? I think we were around 6 or 7.

I have had a handful of "flashes" in the past decade. No memories, but a feeling triggered by a cartoon of all things. It felt like a scream. It rose up round in my throat and then stopped as if it hit an invisible block. Then it sank back down into my chest and vanished. It has only happened twice or three times in my life. I still don't know what to make of it.

I'm confused as all hell, but I feel like there's something that needs to be sorted out before I can move on. Something I've missed. As I write this, I feel a ball of anxiety tightening over my heart.

I've mentioned it before to therapists on campus, but they tend to avoid the subject and stick with their respective specialties. I have some similarities to all the online lists of symptoms, but at the same time it could be a bunch of different things presenting together and I'm just scrambling for a narrative to make them fit into one neat and tidy diagnostic box. I'm graduating in another month so I'll have to find a new doctor, therapist, etc.

Has anyone experienced something similar? I'd appreciate any other perspectives on this because I'm having a lot of trouble looking at this objectively.

Hey! Thanks for posting. I'm glad you did.

They say we are only as sick as our secrets. If so, you are a bit healthier, I am willing to say!

I am glad you felt the anxiety and posted anyway. I don't know about you, but my anxiety tells me (metaphorically, but very real-like) that I will die if I take a chance. It is really brave of you to post here.

Unfortunately I am not equal to the opportunity to say anything wise or helpful.

As far as the people who won't help: IME, I suggest to keep telling people that something is wrong until someone cares. It may be the first person, it may be the fifteenth. But someone out there will care and help. Don't give up until you find that person.

Sorry I can't be more helpful/encouraging!

Good luck. Keep us posted.

Oh, no. Thank you. I was worried I'd come across as a bit of a twat.

You've helped relieve some of my own anxiety just by replying. I'm stuck at an odd life transition right now, but once I get my duckies in a row, I want to find a proper therapist. Part of me hopes I'm right so I don't look like a jerk, but the other half desperately hopes I'm not. We'll see.

I can totally understand that feeling of not wanting to post, but if you ever change your mind, we'll be here. Take care of yourself out there, Oak.

I had my first emotional flashback a few days ago. At least, that's what I think it was.

I remember reading a story and it included a scene of sexual assault, but not violent assault. It was psychologically coercive. Systemic government sort of thing. You have to reproduce against your will for the greater good kind of deal. What I found so triggering about it was the fact that half-way through the scene, the character started to enjoy it.

I suddenly felt like garroting someone and crying at the same time. My kitchen is small, which is comforting for some reason, and compulsively ate an apple while bouncing on the back of my feet. I went back to the computer. Tried to be normal. Tried to forget it. I just couldn't. I started pacing, jigging my legs, and feeling unable to really settle back down.

I went back to the kitchen and leaned in the corner where the fridge is right up against the wall. I just stood there for a while, leg jigging. My cats were confused and anxious and kept meowing. Finally I looked back and one of my cats was looking right at me. For some reason, that's what broke through. I turned back to the fridge, huddled against it, and cried.

There were no memories. Only this urge to cry that came out of nowhere. I don't cry a lot. I'm pretty stoic. But I just cried for a few minutes. Quietly, though. As if somebody would hear. It's as if I always have an audience.

Then the crying stopped. It's like my brain went, "NOPE. Shut that crap off." The feeling went away, but days later, I still feel agitated and out of sorts. I don't know what to do about it or what it means.

Help?

Hey!

Well done for using your words here, and facing a difficult matter. That takes courage.

Crying is good, and I am glad you were able to do it for a few moments. Those were a very human few moments. You did well.

Also, FWIW, my opinion is that sexuality is fluid. At age 29 it is very likely your sexual identity/orientation/inner life will continue to evolve. I encourage you to give yourself some credit/patience/grace regarding that, also.

Hang in there. I am glad to hear you are facing your difficulties with dignity.

Thank you, Oak. I'm glad too, haha. I appreciate you saying so.

Hi bio,
This is such a difficult subject to deal with. Whatever happened to you isn't as important as the way it makes you feel. So if you are having these feelings, then there is something to be dealt with. I don't have any great advice for you.

I do have these kind of questions about myself. The things that I remember are just kind of average kids being curious kind of things. Things that I don't really want to call CSA. I do wonder if something happened that I can't remember or maybe I'm not giving enough weight to the little things that I do remember. I also hate being touched. I find TV shows(Law and Order SVU and shows like that) that show sexual assaults trigger me. It's like I empathize so much with the victim that I feel like I'm being attacked. My stomach will knot up and I get shaky. I try to avoid shows like that as much as possible. I'm in a long term relationship, but it's not sexual anymore. I was never able to really enjoy sex like everyone else, because I'd kind of feel detached during it. I think all of this screams CSA, but I don't remember anything that I'd consider worthy of all these symptoms. You are not alone.

Yeah. From what I've experienced over these last few weeks, I know now that something's seriously amiss. I feel like I'm the NTSB after a plane crash. Have to go back, try and find as many pieces as I can, and reconstruct what happened based off of wreckage.

It sounds like your body's telling you something. That's what I've learned. Listen to your body. If there aren't memories readily accessible to you, take note of the somatic ones. Because once I did that, that's when things started shaking loose. And if you're ready, I can't recommend this book enough: The Courage to Heal by Ellen Bass and Laura Davis.

To me, one of the most terrible parts of all the things we talk about on this board is how hard it is to know anything.

• Was it really abuse or just tough love? Don't know.
• Did that really happen or was it manic hallucination? Don't know.
• Have I been to this restaurant before or is it just déjà vu? Don't know.
• What the hell is déjà vu? Don't know.

As brownblob so wisely pointed out, the actual facts might be less important than your feelings and experiences. After all, there are some things that you may never know the answer to for 100% certain. But rest assured that there is at least one person here who will understand and identify what you're talking about.

THank you. Yeah. The worst part I've found is that everyone's a suspect now, which nicely compliments my preexisting suspicion and paranoia. What memories I do have, I interrogate. I know I shouldn't, but it's hard to resist. Like picking at a scab, I guess. I took a page out of Paul's book and looked at pictures of myself as a kid. I know the feelings are more important, but I can't help asking, what the fuck happened to me? Do I still smile and mingle with the person(s) who did something?

Not knowing is its own special hell.