Greetings and Salutations

My name is Jo, and I am new. There hasn’t really been a time when I was okay. Really okay. Unless you including the first 11 months of my life. My mother moved in with my father shortly before my first birthday, and everything went south from there. 

My father was physically, emotionally, verbally, and sexually abusive up until my mother and I left when I was 6. The memories of him sexually abusing me were repressed up until last year. My father’s family were manipulative and extremely controlling, and both my mother and I were afraid to do anything in fear of anyone doing anything.

While I was 6 and still living with my father I was also sexually abused at school by a boy 4 years older than me, this lasted months until we moved across the country. He was my friend and protected me from bullies; he turned out to be more ‘creative’ than my father, and humiliated and scarred me with what he did. 

Once we moved to the other side of the country, I thought I was finally safe. The things my father did screwed my head up, I drew inappropriate things and acted things out with my toys. I told my friends what these ‘special’ words meant and what you had to do. I was completely screwed up and didn’t understand, but I wasn’t constantly afraid and I wasn’t sad all the time. 

It stayed this way until I was 11, where I met a guy online. He was friendly, and he was always there when I needed someone. I think it took two months before he got inappropriate. Up to when I was 13 he manipulated and threatened me into sending him photos of myself. My depression, anxiety, and self harm had really set in around age 12, and so began therapy — which is still ongoing. 

I decided to try riding the bus by myself for the first time when I was 12. I was excited, I felt grown up —I hadn’t felt like this since I lived with my father and he told me just how ‘grown up’ I was.   A 40-something year old man got on and asked to sit with me. The bus was packed, and the seat next to me was one of the only vacant ones. I agreed. He looked harmless, even offered me a boiled cherry sweet. He sexually assaulted me. 

The last year of high school was rough. I was bullied and everyone hated me for something I didn’t do. I had two friends and one almost-friend. The last 4 years had been made up entirely of self harm, time off, and suicide attempts, and yet I still managed to complete my exams and pass everything.  College started in 2015, and I left in 2016. I couldn’t cope with the work. My mental health was terrible, and we had a bereavement in the family. 

January of 2017, not long after my birthday, my mood perked up much too high and much too fast. It’s suspected I had a manic episode, but I’ve been too afraid to see my doctor about it. It got progressively worse, and in the early hours of April 3rd I bumped into the man who would be my rapist. He was nice, friendly at first; and then he turned out to be violent. That night dug up my repressed childhood memories, and I’ve been a mess ever since. 

My parents only know about the rape last year. My stepfather is unsupportive, and my mother never brings it up. I’ve started counselling specifically for the sexual abuse and rape, and she knows of the two early childhood traumas and last year. I still struggle with depression and anxiety, and I self harm regularly. I also possibly have PTSD. My last suicide attempt was a couple months ago, and I planned one two weeks ago. I’ve been struggling more for the past few months, especially with flashbacks and nightmares, which makes my suicidal thoughts so much worse. 

I feel lost and don’t know how to bring my whole self back. I feel out of touch with the world and myself almost constantly. And when I’m back to being all of me, I feel like I’m losing it. I’m stuck in the midst of memories and flashbacks — both visual and emotional — with glimpses of reality. 

I’m sorry this is so long. I have a propensity to ramble, and clearly this post hasn’t made a liar out of me yet.