PTSD comes rushing back in The Road Ahead

Trigger warning for all you fine folks out there, related to bad things happening to children.````````````````````````````

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Last night my heart broke into a billion different pieces. I went to bed with puffy, swollen eyes, my bones ached from crying, my muscles exhausted from the severe shaking. I felt that familiar feeling of dissociation, my eyes glazing over as my mind tried to protect me from myself. I stared off into an oblivion, my vision cast down the rabbit hole. My stomach churned and tossed, threatening to expel it’s contents for hours. The tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe and the tremors in my hands making it difficult to do anything. I didn’t get to sleep until nearly 3:30 am, and with getting back on my meds, I only slept a few hours and woke up feeling the same way. My senses are heightened, the anxiety, terror, and rage all balled up in my throat.

This next part is more for me than you, but please allow me to indulge for a moment. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. This is the mantra running through my head as I fight off my instincts and primal rage.

I was molested as a child. For years, I was forced to shower with my abuser, my mom’s boyfriend and two half sister’s father. Father isn’t the right word though. Biographical donor maybe? Piece of human fucking garbage? Vile, disgusting, twisted monster? That sounds closer to the truth. All these years, I thought I was the only one. The guilt and shame eventually blacked out after my first suicide attempt at 14, but would be unblocked 14 years later. Anyways, that POS molested me, raped my mother, and somehow I was so fucking naïve that I believed my two younger sisters were spared that particular injustice. And then last night, that all came tumbling down.

I was talking to my oldest younger sister on Messenger, she had sent me a video about sibling struggles. Basically a video of siblings being mean/funny and she mentioned the incident where I was 10 and in the shower, and my mom threw a Halloween plastic spider ring on some fishing line over the curtain. I was terrified and ran screaming naked to my bedroom where I hyperventilated myself into a major asthma attack. I told my sister that I had an extreme fear of spiders because that POS locked me in the utility closet below the stairs for hours at a time and I would have all manner of spiders crawling all over my body, dropping down from the ceiling, biting me. My stomach is doing flips right now and my skin has crawled to the other side of the room. deep breath

Anyways, she said she was so sorry and that she didn’t know he had done that to me. I told her that wasn’t all, that he made me shower with him, that I have six attempts at taking my life because of him. And then I asked a question that would break my fucking heart into a billion pieces. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to put it out there. Did he ever inappropriately touch either of you?”

“Yes.”

My stomach plunged into my feet and the manhole cover that I keep on my rage was blown off. One of my sisters very first memories, at 3 or 4, is of being molested. For whatever reason, my mom and taken me and my youngest sister, only a year old at that time, down to the beach and that POS made her sit on his bare lap, touched himself, touched her and told her “Now you go up and down, up and down, up and down.” She hadn’t told anyone but our other sister about it until only a few years ago. And if that wasn’t vile enough, what she told me next took those billion fragments of my heart and shattered them into pure fucking energy.

Last year, my youngest sister had a seizure and smashed her head open against the concrete sidewalk. She was hospitalized and had to undergo brain surgery to try and repair the damage. When I went to visit her, I had to make a plan with my mom and other sister that if that POS showed up that I wasn’t there at the same time. I knew if I saw him that I wouldn’t be able to control myself and would beat the everloving fuck out of him. Lucky for me, the plan worked and I didn’t encounter him. And that was before I knew all of this. So after the surgery, for whatever reason, my sister was sent to POS house to recover. I don’t know why my mom didn’t step up, I was furious when I heard that’s where my sister was supposed to heal and get better. Well a few weeks after her BRAIN SURGERY, POS got her drunk and tried to rape her. His live-in girlfriend, another POS, heard “strange noises” from the baby monitor they had in her room and heard my sister trying to defend herself. She went in there and told POS to get the hell out of there. She did the right thing, at first, and texted my sister and mom about what she had heard. Well the next day, she changed her story and claimed that my sister was vomiting and that POS was just in there to turn her over so she didn’t choke. What an absolute cunt for defending that POS. I don’t know why my mother didn’t immediately go pick my sister up and take over caring for her. Just another fucking disappointment in a long string of maternal let-downs.

This was LAST YEAR. I want to fucking murder that POS. I want to beat him within an inch of his life then watch the life fade from his evil eyes. I want to whip him with a belt, beat him with a wooden spoon, choke him with my bare hands. I want to inflict the kind of pain that he rained down on me and try to make him feel even .0001% of the terror and pain that has plagued me and my sisters. deep breath I want to break the dial off of my rage control and let loose a torrent of fury and bloodshed that would leave Sam Raimi saying, “WHAT THE FUCK?!” I want to tie him up, cut off his dick, and feed it to him. There is no limit to what I would do to that POS. He’s ruined the lives of those closest to me. No wonder my youngest sister is a heroin addict, no wonder why we’ve all tried to commit suicide, no wonder why we’re all broken and fucked up and barely making it by.

He doesn’t deserve a single iota of joy or happiness or contentment. I don’t know how he lives with himself. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this. I’ve been awake for an hour and I’m already exhausted from being in FULL ALERT mode. My eyes hurt, my body aches, and my heart is jackhammering in my chest. My hands are shaking and I’m fighting to keep my stomach contents where they are. I’m fighting the urge to get in my car and drive to his house and exact my divine retribution. I don’t know what justice looks like, but I imagining how it feels. My knuckles already feel bloody and bruised and I haven’t thrown a single punch. The muscles in my arm and cheeks are twitching, my nerves in overdrive, shooting electrical messages everywhere at once. I know where he lives. I promised my sister I wouldn’t do anything drastic so I could get it.

I don’t know what to do except repeat to myself over and over that I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day. I’m a kind person. I’m a loving person. I’m a pacifist. I try to choose love every day.

He already ruined so much of my life already, I don’t want to go to jail and let him ruin whats left of it. But I don’t know how to handle this at the moment. My PTSD has been retriggered and I’m barely here. I need a distraction. I need a hug.