I just don't know what to do.

Discussion in 'Rape and Abuse' started by SilentMassacre, Mar 20, 2009.

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  1. I've posted here in suicidal fits, and I apologize for not coming back. I'm sure that I probably made a few people think that I had gone through with it, but i haven't at this point. I still want to, but I just have not done it yet.
    I am on another forum, and I have made some good friends there. I have a good balance of online and offline friends. There, however, I am too intimate with the community, so to speak, so I have lost the comfort zone of being open with some things. That being said, what I am about to say here is a breakthrough, but, at the same time, it will inevitably cause me to be far and few between.
    Starting when I was either five or six and going up until I was about eleven, I was molested by my friend's father. For a few years during that period, I lived away from that area, so I didn't go down there as often, but for the first year or so and for the last two years, I was there pretty often, spending nights and such. I don't have too many vivid memories, but he used to get me while I'd be in their shower, and he'd sometimes get me while I was sleeping or changing.
    I have tried so hard to deny everything that I sometimes feel like I am lying to myself, and that makes it harder to deal with. I didn't remember anything until I was thirteen. I was in the shower, and I remember feeling a huge bout of disgust with myself. I promply got out of the shower, sliced my arms and legs, and banged my head into a wall until I was unaware of who I was or where I was.

    The second chapter to this is that I was physically abused by various family members through my childhood. My dad would be physically violent during his drunken rages (which my mother rarely witnessed, as she was rarely home,) and, as I got older, my brother and sister started jumping me when I would make them angry. For quite a while, I was afraid to go home because I was tired of being beaten every day. For quite a while, starting at the age of ten, I lived from place to place to avoid the violence.

    The third chapter is that, during some of the times that I needed to leave my mother's, I'd stay with my sister. She was in an abusive relationship, and he beat her on a regular basis. I used to try to jump in, but I always got beaten with her. After a while, I switched my focus to getting my niece out of the house. I remember so many nights during the middle of the winter when we would be outside on the sidewalk. She'd be asleep in my arms and I'd be staring up at the sky, wondering when everything was going to stop.

    Some days, I just want to end it.
    I just don't want to breathe.
    Some days, I just want to leave everything behind.
    I'm tired of seeing the things that I don't want to deal with.

    There's more to this.
    I've been self harming since I was four. At first, I used to dig into my arms with sharp pencils and try to rip my hair out. By the time I was nine, I was using burning, and at age ten, I started using cough syrup for a trip. I learned, several times, that it can be addictive on more than one level.

    Last spring, about two months before I turned sixteen, I took an overdose (it was the fourth time I attempted suicide) and I ended up in a mental facility. I spent seventeen days there, and I find myself missing that place more. I just got a job. I legally withdrew from school last summer (I actually left school at age fourteen) and I got my GED in the hopes of going to college early: I'll be starting college in August, and I wasn't even supposed to graduate from high school for another year and a couple of months.

    I find myself missing that facility more and more every day. I have accomplished things, but the therapy isn't helping and I feel like I am relying on my medication a little bit too much. (I am on 30mg of Lexapro every morning.) Sometimes, I feel fine, but most days, I fight a strong urge to leap off of a bridge.

    I don't know what to do.
    I build up the nerve to talk to my therapist, but then I lose the nerve to be open and honest by the time that we meet up.
    I think that I'd make some progress if I could tell her who molested me, but being that I'm underage, the authorities would get involved.
    My memories are still sketchy at best, and I don't want the mess, even though I feel guilty for not going forward.

    I just want to die.
    I want it all to end.

  2. The_Discarded

    The_Discarded Staff Alumni

    Oh, hun :hug::hug:

    This is rough.

    I see so much of myself in this and I know none of it's easy and I know you feel like hell and I wish there was an easy way out for your sake. But there isn't.

    Most I can say is keep working with your therapist. Keep working on building up the courage to be candid with her cuz it's gonna take a hell of a lot of work on your part to overcome any of this.

    Don't feel guilty for anything. You've been the strong one for a long time, it seems, and it's completely valid for you to be scared shitless once in a while.

    Eventually, though, you're going to have to let your traumatic past be your traumatic past. You're going to have to grow from it. Your therapist's there to help you with that; you just have to let her.

    I hear you and you're not alone and I wish there was more to say.

    Lemme know if you ever need to chat or anything. You can PM me. :arms:

    Sincerest best wishes xxxxx
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