There is a particular cycle each year- I tell myself that the past year was the worst year of my life. But then I think to myself “Wait, wasn’t every year the worst year of my life?” Then I remember, each year WAS the worst year of my life. As far as I can remember, every single year of my life was awful in it’s own way. I can only ever remember the most previous year because that is the pain I am still overcoming. I want to look at a year and tell myself that it has been a good and healthy year. I have not yet gotten to that point.

In a previous blog, I had stated that I had tried to kill myself when I was seventeen (2018). However, I have tried to kill myself twice which is something I will explain in a different post. 2018 was a time in which, I tried to hang myself. This is a time when I finally accepted that my own father was a bully. That same day, I had told him I wanted to spend a week or two outside of the family because I was so depressed. He said to me, “You are either in this family or you’re not. You do not get to cherry pick. If you are away, you will not have access to a car, to the family, or to your phone.” So, that night I tried to hang myself and failed.

The following winter, I stayed in that same house because I would’ve been threatened otherwise and I was too unhealthy to leave. Both of my parents blamed me for each hardship in our home. They blamed me for defending myself. They blamed me for being myself. I was punished for being myself and defending myself. My own father ignored me for days because of the abuse my mother put on us and refused to accept it. He was cruel. He was mean. He made me feel more worthless, just as much as my own mother did. All I had ever wanted, was to be able to go to my parents and hug them without feeling uncomfortable. I wanted to go to them for comfort and love. They gave me the opposite.

In the past year, I had become extremely uncomfortable in my own body and personality, which would’ve been the fault of my parents. In April, I met someone who finally taught me to love myself and that I was beautiful inside and out. I was so unfamiliar with this idea that I experienced emotional flashbacks that were utterly unbearable. I felt as though I would never get through them. Before this, I was a huge fan of taking photos of myself and modeling per say, but at one point that changed. I had come home from work one day and changed into a dress. I put on makeup. These were two things I had not done for months. I was going to have my boyfriend (Jared), take pictures of me. However, this didn’t happen because my father made comments about the way I was dressed and specified that he could see my body through the dress. He made Jared stand from the end of the hallway to help him criticize what I was wearing.

My father, blamed me for my own 10 year old brother telling me to kill myself. My own father threatened to take away everything in my life because I was mentally ill. My own father designated me as a mother because there wasn’t a proper one in our lives. THAT IS UNFAIR AND CRUEL. A child should never have to take over the role and responsbility of a parent. My father neglected me. My father bullied me.

I was molested from about the age of five to twelve by my step-grandfather. There was nothing done about this. My father and mother were both aware of what might have been going on, but did NOTHING to help.

This post is not meant to bash or accuse. This is from a victims perspective. This is neglect and emotional/domestic/physical abuse. I never had parents. I have parented myself and it is a better job than my “biological parents” could’ve ever done. I have no extended family that believes me. That is okay. I have myself and I have those that do believe me. I never deserved to be neglected or abused.

This is Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

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