Trauma Dump... maybe tmi...TLDR
Been sitting on this post for a few hours. During yesterday's call about loneliness, I was pretty quiet, partially because I was late, but I also didn't really know how to articulate what I've been dealing with without oversharing and feeling like I'm a weirdo. But I think the next part of my healing is sharing everything without censoring myself or apologizing for it. I don't want to do it, but I think that's the only thing i haven't done yet. I haven't even told my best friends everything because of an irrational fear that they'll leave.
Trigger warning: sexual and psychological abuse. Self-harm/substance use. Suicide mention
Pretty standard, parents divorced and I blamed myself after hearing my parents fight over how they were raising me. Dad is anger driven and authoritative and demanded respect and submission (i attribute part of that to his job as a cop). Mom was mostly rational and explained things. He moved out into an apartment, kind of on a sublevel. My brother and I made a friend in the complex and we hung out through the summer. During that summer, he introduced me to sex and showed me how to suck and fuck. That was when I knew I was gay. I vividly remember that most of the times happened outside in the landscaping in front of/next to my dad's window and next to a busy road, but the one that has been plaguing me is when the friend was at my dad's apartment and dared me to give him a secret bj in the living room behind one of these giant speakers while my dad was on the other side folding laundry. Did it and never got caught. This was like a 4-6 week ordeal.
Fast forward a few years, my friends started getting curious and we'd experiment with each other. Dad caught my best friend and I playing Truth or Dare; got way out of hand. He freaked out so bad I don't even remember half of what he yelled, but I remember thinking "this isn't the first time he's reacted like this to something small so I'll just shut up and nod and get it over with." Then, my brother started asking me about sex when I was about 10-12ish and I kept telling him he needed to talk to mom or dad about it. We were home alone and he kept pushing and pushing, and I eventually caved, explained oral sex and showed how it works. It immediately got weird and we both felt really awkward and gross about it, so we agreed to never say anything because we both knew it was weird and wrong and didn't want to do it ever again.
Then he went and told our parents what happened. I still don't know what exactly he told them, but I remember getting pulled out of school and being taken to a social worker or something and being interrogated. It felt like I was talking with my dad so I just pretended to be unbothered like I always did to get through the stress. This time dad took it a step further and accused me of raping my brother like I forced the whole thing. He put us in therapy and repeatedly kept telling me I raped my brother and the only reason he wasn't having me register as a sex offender was because it would affect his job. He said I should be grateful he's not putting me in prison. Mom was completely blindsided and because she had custody of both of us he blamed her parenting for it happening.
The first few therapy sessions were much of the same conversation; telling them what happened from my POV and being called a liar. I couldn't say anything without them flipping it and making me feel worse. At that point, my dad was basically telling me that being gay is what did it and I'm a monster if I am. So I spent all of middle school and high school in this fucked up narrative that I was some horrible abomination that only exists because they couldn't get rid of me without making a bigger deal than it was worth. I wasn't allowed to go to friend's or have them over unless an adult was in the room 100% of the time so having friends felt likea trap. My dad had me believing everyone knew what happened as he told it, and they hated me so much because of it that they didn't want me around. It didnt matter what anyone else said at that point. That was the truth that was painted for me.
So through my teens, I would pop Xanax or pain killers and drink whatever alcohol I could get my hands on without getting caught so i could have a break from the internal rage I fight. Around the time I was 18/19, i had started coming out. I was working up to telling my dad to his face because i felt that was what i needed to do. Found out that a former best friend of mine outed me to him and i went a little unhunged. She invited me to her wedding and i sent a congratulations card that said "sorry I can't make it! My gf and I have [some made up plans i can't remember]". Not one of my prouder moments. But i intentionally didn't say anything for months because of he already knew then I wasn't going to bother stressing about it.
I got faded for the first time shortly after that and ended up having this massive meltdown. My mom found me bawling in one of the bedrooms at her bf's house, and I spilled everything. She never knew some of it, and i don't even know how i told it to her. She brought it up the next day after I sobered up and I shut down the conversation before it started. And then she told me that she told dad what I told her. I decided to say fuck it and confronted him about it that day just to get it over with. Verbatim, he said "I don't believe that actually happened. I kept my eyes close on you two." Part of me wanted to just dump every gory detail I could but I didn't even challenge him because there was no point, and I'd end up hurting more than I already did.
Fast forward to today, I am sorting through PTSD & CPTSD with Bipolar, BPD, chronic depression, social anxiety, ADHD, and high-functioning autism. I still feel like I'm the problem and accepting that it's just part of me is one of the hardest things I've had to do. I have felt so isolated and alone since I was 12 that I'm still terrified of meeting new people. I'm constantly waiting for a pit fall to trip me and pull me right back to where I was as a kid.
If you've made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read it. I know it's a lot to absorb and process, but I also hated writing this whole thing since I started it 😂 it goes against every instinct my body tells me, but i think I needed to do it. It is because of all of these events that I always feel alone and unsafe around others.
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Trauma Dump... maybe tmi...TLDR
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