I’ve been doing a lot of reading to find some answers, some help. Most of what’s out there tells you basically, that if you really put what’s causing you so much pain into perspective you’d realize things aren’t really that bad. Â That you need to see all the good things around you. Â See life in it’s totality. Â Or even that you have a brain malfunction. Â I know those things are true for many, many people and can be of great help to them.
For me, none of this applies. I’m 45 years old. Â I’ve had suicidal feelings for many of those years. Â I clearly remember at age 11 I decided I needed to create a “social mask” so I could fit in with others. Â At that age I thought that would “cure” what seemed so wrong with me. Â From there it was an easy mental leap to try to force my spirit, my “being” into someone that would be pleasing. Â I’ve spent my entire life trying to work that puzzle out. Â What is wrong with me? Â Why is it so hard? Â What do “they” want me to be? Â I’m certainly smart enough to know that this isn’t a healthy way to think, but it became my only means of survival.
I’d have brief flashes of memories that seemed horrible. Â When I’d try to tell someone (family or friend) about them they’d be shocked. Â Then they’d tell me I’d certainly misinterpreted that, or even more common, “no, that never happened”. Â I created a patchwork of partial memories that I told myself I’d certainly understand some day, when I had the proper perspective or more information.
Last week I got that perspective. Â I filled in the gaps. Â I have an Aunt, my mom’s youngest sister. Â She’s 11 years older than me. Â Growing up, I remember her as one of the few kind people in my life. Â She moved half way across the country while I was still a child and made a life for herself there. Â Last week she came out to the west coast to visit family. We spent a couple days together. Â Between the two of us, my childhood came into focus. Â Not only my childhood, but the ongoing treatment I receive from both my parents, from most of my family.
My father began molesting my Aunt when she was 11. Shortly after I was born. Â She tried to talk to family about it, no one would believe her. Â My father was a cop. She said he’d come home at 11:00pm when she was babysitting me (nightly), take his gun out of it’s holster and set it on the table with the barrel facing her, and molest her while I slept in the same room. Â This went on for 5 years before anyone would listen to her. Â My mother’s reaction was distress that she’d broken off an extramarital relationship she was having so soon, because now she had good reason to be with that other man. Â My parents divorced and my mother left me and my little brother (4 years younger) with my father, a known child molester, for 2 years while she enjoyed being single. I have almost no memory of those years. Â My father was not only a child molester, he was frighteningly violent. Â He used to beat me with a closed fist, literally senseless, for any infraction or irritation. After 2 years we went back to living with my mother. Â She was currently dating a man who came from a wealthy family. Â He liked that she had a little girl. Â He began molesting me when I was 10. Every night. Â My mother told me many years later that the reason they divorced was that she found his journal. Â In it he detailed sexually explicit fantasies about me. Â For whatever reason, when my mother left this man she took my brother and left me alone with him.
During this entire time, my mother would alternately tell me what a devoted mother she was, and tell me how stupid, ugly, worthless I was. Â She had a friend of hers take me aside and tell me what a burden I was to my mother. Â My mother is quite petite and I’m very tall. Â She frequently told me “I don’t know how anything as big and awkward as you came out of me”. Â Or show me childhood pictures of myself and say “weren’t you cute?” she’d wait for “yes, I guess so” then say “What happened?” Â Physical attractiveness is extremely important to my mother. Â I was endlessly told I was too fat, too tall, my hair looked too dark, too light, you name it. Â A couple years ago I started going to the gym excessively. Â Her comments then were about how “slutty” I looked.
As you can imagine, any man I’ve had a relationship with has been sociopathic and narcissistic. Â I started therapy a couple years ago. I was so despondent. Â Nothing I did pleased anyone. I was always a failure in everyone’s eyes. Â I worked my way through nursing school while both my children were under 7. Â I became charge nurse of an ICU. Â Nothing mattered.
Now I see clearly. Â My parents both have cut ties with me. Â I feel totally alone. Â I have a great therapist, but she doesn’t want me to talk about my story, she doesn’t want me to “get stuck in it”. Â She wants me to move on and become strong. Â I wish I could. Â I’m trying desperately. Â I AM stuck though. Â No Â matter how I try to will myself to move on. Â I simply can’t. Â I’m horror-struck. Â I’ve been a pawn all my life – all the while I kept trying to please. Â I wasn’t the rebelious kid, the addicted kid, I just kept trying to be good. Â Kept trying to please. My Aunt told me I was always so sweet, concerned about everyone else. Â I wasn’t sure, didn’t know if I could trust my memory of trying to be good.
I can’t tell friends about this. Â I’ve tried. Â No one wants to hear such atrocities. No one knows what to say. Â This is the kind of thing people avoid. Â I’ve learned not to really trust people. Â In therapy I learned I am the exact fit for a narcissist/sociopath. Â I attract them. Â They use me and devastate my trust. Â I’m learning who is ok and not ok to trust.
So Â this is what brings me to suicide. Â I’ve been told all my life how worthless I am. Â I kept trying to prove it isn’t true. Â Now I see that it is. Â There’s no hope of pleasing anyone, making myself more ok. Â I am at my core all the things they despised. Â I can’t fix it. Â The drama that’s ensued as a result of all this coming out is unbelievable. Â I’m blamed for it all. I know theses people are sick, I get that. Â That doesn’t take away what’s been done to me. The physical acts themselves are secondary to the disregard. An animal isn’t treated that way. The intentional harm done to me simply because of the pleasure they derived from it. When I tried to get help they piled on even more pain, insult and self-doubt. Just to keep me in that position. They denied everything. Â My mother says I’m “just jealous of her” and that I’m “blaming all my personal problems on her”.
Thank you for the opportunity to get this out.