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As I sit here I wonder if I should even be writing this. Looking back on my childhood, adolescent and adult life it is clear to me that it is riddled with one traumatic event after another ranging in intensities. At 3 years of age I witnessed my father beating my mother, and then proceed to get into a fist fight with a friend of his I can only imagine now to be a result of my father attacking my mother. I was seen standing there watching the ordeal and ordered to go back to bed. No explanation was ever given to me. At 5 years old I was molested by my cousin in a tent in our backyard. Where were my parents?? Who knows! At 6 years old I then molested a girl friend of mine, also 6, in the closet of my bedroom, kissing her "down there" and vice versa. I didn't think this was a bad thing at the time I thought it was what everyone did. Again, though where were my parents? At 7 and 8 my little brother and I would often engage in incest acts, but again I thought this was normal and everyone behaved this way. I have never told anyone about any of the aforementioned.
My parents were drug user and alcoholics so I imagine them to be too involved in that to focus much on me as a child. Between the ages of 8 and 10 I had recurrent dreams where I would be having sex with my father or my brother despite the fact that I didn't even know the details or mechanics of true intercourse. At 13 I had my first real sexual encounter, I was raped. I found the ordeal to be bizarre, shocking, and humiliating to say the least. I had no idea what true sexual intercourse was as I didn't know that his penis actually went inside of me. Need less to say I panicked, screamed and tried to get away but he just kept going. After that I became emotionally numb. I never told anyone ever.
I had a boyfriend after that; I met him when I was 15. He was 19. He had no where to live so my parents let him move in to our house. We were together for about 18 months during which time we of course had sex and got caught by my father. This boyfriend also cheated on me... the first of many mind you.
Despite all this I did manage to graduate from HS, one year early, and with top honors in my class. At 18 I met my first child's father. A drug addict, closet homosexual, trying his best not be. I was completely oblivious and as naive as they get. This relationship was rocky and filled with arguing, his infidelity and his repeated jail terms. Despite our living together I spent most nights alone while he was off partying. I was never invited to come along. My son was born in 1999, I was 20. When he was 11 months old I found out I was pregnant again... same father, but this time he told me I had to have an abortion, as he would leave me if I didn't. I didn't feel that our relationship was stable enough to have the child, so I did have an abortion and then I packed up my stuff and left him.
In 2001 I met my first husband. He had just been released from a 4-year prison sentence. We had a literal whirlwind romance, flying to Las Vegas six months after meeting to get married. I was 22, he was 32. Again, my parents were all for it... I wonder if they ever really cared about me at all!?!? When my new husband I got back from our honeymoon, things were ok for while. Two months into our marriage I got pregnant again. Four months into the pregnancy he decided he just couldn't do "this" anymore. Whatever that meant!? And he left. I went through the pregnancy alone. I alone drove myself to the hospital to give birth and I alone drove myself home from the hospital. My son was with his paternal grandparents but came home a few days after I did.
Two weeks had passed since the birth of my daughter when my husband contacted me and said he had seen a picture of the baby on the hospital website. He wanted to see her. I agreed and he of course regretted his choices in the past, and asked for a second chance. I agreed after weeks of persuasion on his part. Our reunion didn't last long, less than a year. Shortly after our reconciliation my father died suddenly of a massive heart attack on Oct 31, 2002. My mother called, but didn't tell me he had already died at home only that I needed to get to the hospital quickly. Upon arrival at the hospital I rushed in to the room where I believed I would see my father alive - only to have the complete shock of seeing his dead body on the table, partially covered in a sheet. Inconsolable, I ran from the hospital as quickly as my legs would carry me. I don't know why my mom allowed me to believe he was alive...
Things get worse....
About 8 months later, after my husbands repeated infidelity, lying, and drug abuse had left me fed up I asked for a divorce. He took it much farther and committed suicide on June 16th 2003. Some days I blame myself and yet other days I find myself incredibly angry about it.
After the deaths of my father and husband I began to drink a lot and use marijuana. It dulled things somewhat and made me vulnerable to other things... and in 2004 I got involved with a really horrible man. He was drug dealer, drug user and frankly pretty crazy. We started seeing each other in Feb 2004 and of course by April I was pregnant. I stupidly married him too, 6 month after we initially got together in Feb. We had our daughter in Dec 2004 and along with my other two kids we moved into a really nice house. He sold drugs for a living. Looking back I can now see how crazy it was but at the time I was just lost. He was physically and mentally abusive towards me, breaking my ribs, wrist, sitting on top of me and choking me until I blacked out literally thinking I was dying. I was constantly walking on eggshells and never voicing my opinion as I was trying not to set him off. We did manage to have another baby in the spring of 2006, but it was truly a shock, as my husband hardly ever touched me instead telling me that I was "disgusting" to look at and that I didn't turn him on in the least. After 5 long, insane years of torture and abuse I managed to get away from him and got a divorce.
The traumatic events that have colored my life leave me feeling anxious, nervous, with poor self esteem, fears of abandonment, panic attacks, major depression, and an unrelenting sense of blame toward myself. I have never been to a therapist as I'm terrified of what they will make of my life experiences. I've taken the quizzes on this site and all my scores say that I'm completely messed up, high likelihood of borderline personality disorder, high likelihood of Aspergers, high likelihood of PTSD, high likelihood of bipolar disorder, high likelihood of ADHD.... I can't have them all!? Can I? I've gone this long without talking to a professional, so I wonder if it's too late to now. I do have an appointment with a Psychologist in about two weeks I am afraid if I go in there and spill all my beans as I’ve done in this post, frankly that she’ll either think I’m lying or that I need to be committed.
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