I just received a free boob job. LUCKY.
At first, I don’t want to make a big deal about it but after a while, I started to feel disturbed about it.
Again, maybe it’s just a stupid assumption but in the same time I fear it might not be.
At first, I thought it was just an accident but feeling it for long disturbed me. His arm was forceful. Rubbing it up and and down and around. So, I blocked his arm with my arm and I felt his hand trying to grab my arm away. Of course I didn’t let him have his way. Like, fuck him. Like I’ll just let him shit with me.
I started to get really disturbed but I didn’t show it on my face. The whole time I’m wearing a blank face. I don’t even know if it’s helping or not. It’s just that I don’t want to show him weakness and fear. But my heart beat was starting to get really fast. I just want it to end. I can’t wait to get off.
Eventually he stopped. He got up and out of the bus.
I’m just completely lost. I don’t know if I should end it already. I’ve been put through so much bullshit that I’m completely fed up. I was molested by my dad’s friend which my dad doesn’t know about because I was young and scared that he’d do something to my family cause he claimed he will if I ever told. I still haven’t said anything and it’s been years. I’ve also be bullied by everyone. Even my own family. I’ve always been really into sports and I’m a girl so my parents, sisters, and brother would always call me a boy because of it. Also, kids at school would do the same. I’m a current freshman and I’m done with life. Theres no motivation to continue on with life. I have so much anger toward people that I dont want to deal with. Â I’m two different people. To my friends, they know me as a happy, full of life, big hearted girl… well everyone knows me like that. I can’t trust anyone with my personal stuff so they never think anything is ever wrong with me. I hate having to act like something I’m not, but its becoming second nature to me which isn’t good. I’m currently into drugs and drinking which isn’t good cause i play soccer. Soccer is the only thing that gets me away from all of the bullshit, but my parents don’t let me play it unless it’s at school… and that only lasts a few months. Once that’s over, i go back to my depression and drugs and I’m afraid I’ll end up doing something stupid which i want to do. I don’t know what to do anymore…
Please do not judge me on this letter, I am only curious as to what all this means.
Lately I have been feeling like SOMETHING bad had happened when I was a child or any other time but I cannot shake this feeling away.
I have a weird fascination with the whole sexual abuse, predator/little girl, etc. (Now, when I say fascination I do not mean I like it any way shape or form or wish it upon others because I think that is sick and anyone who believes its ok is messed up) but I find myself thinking about it and wanting to research it to get more answers.
I feel like I might have been subject to possible sexual abuse as a child, but I also want to doubt that because…that’s horrible.
As a child my mom said I had come back from a family event (I was always a good kid) and just kept crying and crying and crying when I was never know to cry about anything. After that anything that got on my hands wether it be sand, dirt, candy, ice cream, anything messy I would flip shit and have to clean them. Obviously this is not normal for a kid because kids are known to be messy and not give a care.
I have had dreams and there is such vivid thoughts, almost memories,Â about me being in a van at the age of 11 being hurt but that cant be possibly true.
I have heard about repressed memories and how they come to light once your brain thinks you are ready to handle the trauma.
I am so confused by all of this. If anyone has any knowledge about repressed memories or anything of the sort please share with me. The internet cant always be trusted with its information.
Thank you. Any advice or info please email me—> firstname.lastname@example.org
When I was younger, I was molested and beaten almost daily by my older sister who I idolized and looked up to. My parents would blame me for her violent episodes, saying that I provoked her. Whenever I would fight back, I’d be punished, by spankings with a belt, or they would take away things that were important to me.
Later on, my sister told my parents that I was the one who instigated the molestation. It was a very, very shameful night, me, sitting at the table with my family, my sister crying crocodile tears of guilt at 15 years of age, and me, who was 12, trying to explain why I was so fucked up.
She told because she needed to be absolved of the guilt she had. She had molested me since I was seven years old. My parents spoiled her, but would not even give me an allowance. Up until this, I had quit fighting her. I let her beat me. I let them blame me for everything, and to a point, I believed it to be true. Everything bad that happened was my fault, and because of my social awkwardness and distrust of my peers, the bullying not only haunted me at home, but followed me to school. I put on weight because I had no energy to do anything but read to escape the torment. I would go hide in the woods, until my mom made me come home. I did chores, put dinner on the table, took care of my younger siblings, and was a great student, all A’s despite everything I had endured. I wanted to go to college to get out of the hell that was home.
After my sister outed me for her abuse, my parents treated me like a freak and quit communicating with me. Mom had serious issues. She suffered depression and had bouts of rage, would beat me and yell at me, and her favorite game was calling me lazy or lardbutt, or just tell me how worthless i was as a daughter. I couldn’t go to other kids’ houses because I was odd. I didn’t know how to interact with people, as my parents had been overprotective, or, more or less wanted the abuse kept secret.
I grew, graduated high school, became a moral and good Christian girl. I worked hard from the time i was old enough to have a job, working two and three jobs at a time to save up, but never really saving. I bought the kids clothes, took my family out to eat, showered them in gifts and things because I really felt that if I gave them everything I had, they would love me. It didn’t work.
Things kept going crazy, escalating as I started college. My parents had argued with the counselor because of an incident with my older sister, so I found getting help for college very hard. I had no idea what I was doing when I applied for scholarships, and despite my good grades, I remained naive with the ways of the world and dealing with people. I didn’t get that many scholarships, and I only made a 27 on my ACT, one point below what I needed for a full ride. I began school with the promise from my father that as long as I kept my grades up and finished school, he would pay the balance.
As usual he lied. Dad couldn’t save to save his life, even though he had a decent job as a Registered Nurse, he had his own problems with his family, and had isolated my extended relatives on both sides. Dad’s paranoia, and his excessive spending and eating habits, caused him to be unable to plan for something like my education, so when it came time for him to pay the balance, he was irritable and made me feel guilty for taking his hard earned money.
Mom was no help either. Both my parents were so caught up in their own hardships and relationship issues that they never saw me suffering, and it didn’t help because of my Pollyanna attitude. No matter what happened, I always tried to make the best of it, and my friends always thought of me as that weird, curly headed chick who had everything together. No one saw the abuse. My cousins were jealous of me and spread nasty rumors about me in high school. I couldn’t get boyfriends because everyone thought I was gay, and I really didn’t care what they thought. I am a self-made pillar of attitude and strength.
But, as things go, my third year in college was complete and I was about to go back to school to finish up, and my mom kicked me out on my butt. I had only what I could fit into the cab of a pickup, and was homeless for a while before finding an income based apartment that rushed me in because I was a heart case. I worked two jobs until I found a job in a nearby city, where I became a store manager and ran the store for almost three years comfortably and with minor incident.
Then I got my third new boss, and he turned into exactly what I had struggled to get away from all the years I was at home. He was a manipulative, hateful, bully of a man who would compliment you on Friday and by Monday you were so worthless you couldn’t get a coke vendor to put a sign on his display. Of course, instead of being prolific, I began to go back into my shell of self-doubt that I had lived in when I was younger, and began letting store conditions fall because I had no energy to fight a losing battle. He didn’t like me, and that was it. I left my job after a knee injury to lose weight, focus on my health, and took a job in a kitchen.
I thought it was the answer, but no, it wasn’t. The boss there was more manipulative and catty. I got tripped several times, told I was the slowest one there, told that I couldn’t cook, she wouldn’t allow me to cook because I burned some things being new to the kitchen. Two girls there gave me hell, and one stole my keys to my car. I was making half the salary I was used to, and my older sister, remember the molester, was the HR rep. I spent $140 to get the locks changed on my car and to get a new key.
My boss cut my hours. The bully said I pushed her, and I went up the ladder of the open door trying to find help, which resulted in a meeting with everyone in the kitchen crucifying me. Literally, everyone had something bad to say about me. My boss told me she was forcing my two week notice, and I called her bluff. The biggest bully got arrested for three counts of possession for narcotics, meth, and marijuana, so my boss fired her. Things got better for a while.
In January I fell against the stove, burned the skin off my right forearm, then fell back and caused my back to have a bulging disc. I was out thirteen days and put on restrictions, light duty work, and my boss treated me like I wasn’t hurt at all.
Things got worse as I got taken into the office and coached on hygiene. I was the kicking post in the kitchen, just like I had been the kicking post at home, and everyone’s blame all. Because I was so psychologically damaged, I didn’t even have the heart to fight it. They said I stunk, so ok, I stink. I began washing myself furiously, taking off the hide in places, brushing my teeth until the gums were raw.
I explained to my boss I had PCOS and a bleeding issue because of that, and that it might be the blood smell that they were talking about. It could kill me, but it hasn’t yet, and oh God, I wish it would. She told the others about it, apparently, because I got feedback from them and a lot of questions I had to answer. I was mortified.
Loss of blood and my injury weakened me to the point I developed pneumonia. I had to be taken out of work a week, and while I was out I called my boss to tell her I might be taking a job as a truck driver, because my sister told me I needed to let her know what I was considering. She took me off the schedule and told everyone I quit.
Now, I’m fighting for my unemployment, and because of my two past bosses blackballing me, I am having a hell of a time finding a job. Because I was kicked out, I didn’t finish school. I live alone, and I can’t trust anyone. I don’t have a good relationship with any of my family because of my parents, and my parents probably won’t help me when my savings run out.
I’m scared, and I want to die. I fought, so hard, all of these years, went from homelessness to managing a million dollar business, and then back to living in the gutter. What’s the point of trying if it is taken away from me by the unfeeling, hating actions of others? Add to this I have a blind Yorkshire Terrier who has no one but me, because he’s so ugly. What will he do when I’m gone? No one wants him. I have a pittbull mix who is as sweet and lazy and good-natured as can be, but no one wants her because of the pittbull stigma. I have an old dog who was shot by my schitzophrenic uncle when I was younger, so she became violently protective of me. They will surely kill her because she is crazy to anyone but me. And there’s my cat, a little kitten left in a box at the dumpster where I worked. He’s five now, has been with me so long, and here I am, letting them all down, and as always the voice in my head tells me, “They’re going to win!”
IF I die, they win, but I am so very tired of my entire life having been a struggle. What’s the point?
.. Have i ever thought i’d get to this point no.. im only 14 why am i here. What did i do to deserve this. I guess this is the time i’d share my story right? Exsplain it all get it out, wipe my slate clean. But im sure none of you care to hear my story. So if you dont stop reading, its not gonna be a happy one.
I was 3 when my mom kidnapped me, she abused me every day tried to kill me once out of jealousy, cause after i was born no one gave her attention anymore. Great mom right? after my dad regained cusody i got a restraining order agaist her, now 10 years later she tries to act like she cares by sending my dad cards and presents for me since she cant technically get in touch with me herself.
2 years later when i was 5. Thats when my life should have ended, it would have been so much easier. My grandpa raped me, till the age of 8 when he died, i didnt know.. i though this was normal.. i trusted him i was only 5 , and the one person i trusted most.. betrayed me..
When i finally told it was after i found out about his death, actually that very same night, i asked to go outside with me dad and i told him. He looked at me in shock i thought he was crying cause he lost his father.. but now i know it was much more then that. My dad called the police i went to safe and sound ( a place for abused children) and they did everything they could. They said i should grow up fine. With no complications, that i seem to have no long lasting effects. My grandma (jean) disowed me calling me a liar she hated me.. never wanted to see me again. I wanted to die. I was 8 but i didnt tell anyone.
3 months later my brother raped me. One time, i told my grandma ( terry) she told me never to speak of it again it was our ” secret” i did just that till 6th grade.
I started cutting, learning it helped kids handle pressure at school. It hurt at first yet, but oddly enough after i felt better. It was like the blood took all the feelings i felt out. But i wasnt that lucky to get away with it. I was caught and they sent me to a counsler. We talked for a while before one day i admitted what had happened. Charges were pressed but they couldnt do anything at the time. So the case was closed. I didnt mind.. i just continued on with my life. Even after being diagnosed with Mild depression, and ptsd
7th grade middle of the year ( stopped cutting) we got a court order, they found evidence to help me pursue charges, i was scared yes, but they told me it would protect other girls like me. So foolishly i said yes.
To escape the pain of my passed we moved half way cross the country. I was sad to leave my friends but it was probally for the best.
When i went to my new school less then two months into i was sexually assalted. After class the boy wanted to talk to me i ran out cry i was terriofied “no more” thats all i could hear in my head. I ran into a friend i was sobbing at this point and i broke down telling her what he had been doing to me for the past two weeks. She promised not to tell but i was foolish to think she wouldnt if it was the other way around i would, so i dont blame her for that. They pressed charges and he admitted to the act, one less stress.
i then moved to another city away from the school. I got settled and was happy finally moving on.
October 2, 2011
I went to court agaist my brother. Everyone sat on his side of the court room. My other brother, mom, uncles, cousins, my dads other x-wife. Mocking me. My dad couldnt be there cause he was also testifying. So the only person i had on my side was my Childs Advocate, which honestly made me go through with it cause honestly i wanted to die. ( I was cutting again at this point and my depression was growing severe but i didnt tell anyone. )
I was on the stand for 4 hours, getting pounded with questions, crying, and just wanting it to end.
After it was over i got to visit an old friend, from my hometown and spend that night. I attempted suicide at her house. But when i was cutting ( i was cutting deep) she wanted to come into the bathroom i freaked pulling my pants up and stand up i was shaking and put a towel on the floor. She thought i was going to the bathroom ( two of my other friends were there) i stood up walking out and we sat their talking i stood not wanting to get blood on anything. Thats when my friend brittany noticed the blood at my feet that was trickling down my leg she dragged me into the bathroom. ” whats wrong” she asked “are u on your period” i kept shaking i couldnt tell her, i just wanted to dissapear. She knew my passed and she didnt hesiate when she pulled down my pants. She shall the cuts 10 of them 2 inches wide 2cm down. “how did u” she asks as she grabed paper towels to put pressure. I pointed to the closet where she found kaitlyns pocket knife that i had stole. I was so embaressed. Then kaitlyn called brittany in i was crying now, i didnt know what to do. It wasnt suppose to end like this. She shut the door holding down anger snatching her knife. “Jessica needs to get in here, she needs to go to the hospital” i tried to fight them from getting me in the car but i was to weak. When we got to the hospital i got 17 stiches. They let me go home and no one told my dad. My friends mom covered my bills. Im grateful.
I came home and continued cutting on november 3 2011 i was admitted into the hospital after another suicide attempt and more self harm. I was their for 7 days when they let me leave. I continued but at that point was diagnosed with severe depression, ptsd, and anxiety. So much for growing up normal.
Decemeber 12, 2011 i was back in the hospital 9 days this time suicide attempt and cutting. It angered me i was either caught or i chicked out. Why couldnt i go through with it!! I was released December 21.
On new years i attempted suicide by drinking rubbing achohal ( not a recommendation shit hurts and it hard as fuck to die) They didnt force me to go to a hospital
Febuary 7 2012 i was back in the hospital cutting again i got out on valentines day.
Febuary 16 2012, i had my first seizure they called psuedo siezures, theyre like eplilemptic but caused my anxiety and are oftened linked with ptsd. Around this time i tried to quit cutting, and my body wanted to release the edorphines and as they built up my body released it the convulsions.
I delt with it as kids bullied me and harrased me. The emo girl who has seizures, i hated school.
8 months later i quit cutting i was so happy i was going to counsluing, i was getting over my past adjusting.
I got into a serious realationship, only last a month but i love this kid, I want to marry him. He was everything i ever wanted. We got together semtember 5 2012 broke up october 3 2012. on the 4 i cut again for the first time in 8 months i felt weak.
November 28, 2012
I was sexually assalted as a freshman in highschool, by a senior foot ball player. Im currently in an on going case. Im cutting again, severe again. I wanna die and i just dont see the point in living, I hate it i feel like theres a target on my back. My dad found out i was cutting again this morning, he seemed hurt but we havent talked about it since. Im trying to convince myself not to cut tonight, but honestly i dont care. Everything seems worthless.
Thats my story in short i now take 22 meds a day and ive been diagnosed with
-multiple persanaltiy disorder
Im 24 years old, married, a mother of two, and i have been suicidal since the age of 12. I attempted many times, been hospitalized, been on any med you can think of, and i still cant pull myself out of this. Truth is, i love my husband, but our relationship was abusive in the past, i developed PTSD. Also coupled with molestation as a child, i have alot of anxiety. I have also discovered that i have been in love with a long time friend for a long time. I sleep with him on occasion, and i just want to stay there. Like i said, my husband is sweet, and he is a great father, but it pains me so that i cannot be with the man that i would consider my soulmate.
I have been going down hill for a while now. Have attempted a few times with sleeping pills, hanging, but i couldnt follow through with it.
Im posting this in pure faith i wont be judged or hurt, i rarely talk about my feelings.
I have multiple dreams and fantasies about suicide. I think about it all the time, and i can spend hours researching and watching real live suicide videos. Its sick, i know, but i dont know what to do.
Any help would be appreciated. Thank you.
I was molested when I was younger by a friend of my family. This was when I was about five. I have another memory of being molested around age nine or ten. Â I began having terrifying and recurring nightmares soon after these experiences. I told my mom what happened to me on my sixteenth birthday because the dreams were intensifying. She never believed my story…. I was close to my mom. Her doubt hurt me even more than the pain of the molestation. The rest of my family does not know about what I have experienced.
My thoughts of suicide started when I was 13 years old.
Â I made a friend through a connection with another friend, and she was awesome (at first). I found out a month into our friendship that she did drugs. I encouraged her to stop, but since she was 5 years older than me she was too self- absorbed to listen. So, one night she slept over my house, and curiosity got the best of me, and I tried the drugs. It was… wonderful, to say the least. So more ‘sleepovers’ were planned afterwards. If I can recall correctly, it was about the third time she slept over that I noticed she didn’t take any drugs while I was havingÂ a plentiful amount. She was even helping me take more, more than I usually took. I thought nothing of it.
The next morning, I woke up and I was completely naked. I also had bruises and abrasions all over my body. I was horrified, knowing that I went to sleep with my clothes on. I also had horrible repercussions. I got so sick from the amount of drugs I took I started throwing up blood. Her reply to all of this?Â “Well, you can’t go to the hospital, because they’ll trace the drugs in your system”. Helpful fucking advice.
This routine of molestation and drug abuse continued for over 9 months. During that time she took an interest in my brother. They became a couple (against my parents orders) and my brother would yell at me and break things when I protested her coming over. He even hitÂ me once. I became so full of anxiety and depressed I actually asked my parents to put me in a mental institution. They laughed. I continued seeing her against my will, and thus began myÂ self hatred. I could have not taken the drugs and let her do those things to me, but I was an addict by now and didn’t care about the reprecussions until afterwards.
One day, when I finally had enough, I told her I didn’t want to be friends anymore. She threatened to commit suicide. My brother yelled and hit me. My brother knew what she did to me, because the girl couldn’t keep her mouth shut about anything, and because he didn’t care. When I was finally able to break off the relationship, I was 14, drug addicted, and suffering from severe depression.
I’m 15 now, 4 months since I last saw her. My brother still talks to her frequently, and I think they’re still together. I hate myself for letting me be the victim of this whole situation. I have so much repressed hate some days I feel like stabbing my chest to release the ache. Frankly, I don’t blame anyone except for myself.
P.S. Thank you for your comment Jon