u/No-Pollution-4078

Hello Reddit! Im 22M and im 3 years into a physical trade job and my back and hips feel like I’m 40 already. My feet hurt constantly if im not wearing my work boots and my gait is super off. I don’t even know where to start with correcting this issue. Ever since I was a kid I’ve struggled with constant lower back pain and tight hips but my parents never helped telling me that I was too young for those issues. I’ve learned to just ignore the pain and it’s been common in my life since then. Today at work I lifted something that was about 2-300 lbs and it slipped and I dropped it I had to pick it up from the ground like a squat and since then my back is absolutely killing me. It’s more so lower back my sides and insanely tight hips. There are some stretches that I used to do in highschool that I do when the pain gets like this but when I tried them today not only did my hips feel way tighter than I’ve ever felt
, I couldn’t even rotate my hips all the way while lying down on one side without significant pain. What steps should I take? Physical therapy or should I try doing something at home. Note that I’m really rusty and would like to learn what mobility training i need to start locking into so I’m not disabled one day. I’m really scared guys please help!!

Hello Reddit, I'm a 22-year-old male, and this is my first time posting. I felt compelled to share my story to connect with others who've had similar traumatic experiences growing up. As far back as I can remember, my parents were constantly fighting, which eventually led to their divorce when I was 10. My mother told me she considered divorcing my father when I was only a few months old because of how he treated us. She claimed he would curse and yell at me to stop crying or to shut up and this would even escalate to him “disciplining” a baby.

As I grew older, If he wasn’t disciplining me he simply was just not around. Lack of supervision by him was common and he would just lock himself away in his room while my mom would be working or out of town leaving me to fend for myself for a good majority of the day. When he was around though, he loved roughhousing and he'd provoke me until I was crying and trying to fight back, but if I managed to hit him, he'd retaliate even harder under the disguise of "discipline." This behavior from him usually stopped when my mother was around, as she loved him and was naive to think we were a happy family. He was verbally abusive to her throughout my childhood and even physically abusive at times. Note that none of this is her fault and she is a victim of him as well.

When I started elementary school is when he began deliberately embarrassing me, whether in public or around family. He'd belittle me, calling me too shy or awkward, and if I made a mistake, he'd call me a r\\\*tard (I'm unsure if that word is acceptable to use now). This verbal and physical abuse was a constant presence. Slapping me across the face was a common punishment, and when we were alone, he'd hit me hard in the shoulder where it wouldn't leave visible bruises. These weren’t even the punishments that I was really afraid of as a kid he would do belt to a\*\* too. He would also pin me to my bed and tickle me relentlessly for what felt like an eternity (over 5 minutes of helpless flailing and begging him to stop). At the time, I didn't realize how wrong it was; I thought it was just part of being a kid. He'd often say that I'd understand when I had my own kids and that it was just to toughen me up. He'd subject my cousins to similar treatment, particularly my male cousin who was around my age. He would tie his arms in a knot and pull them while pinning him down. Perhaps it wasn't as severe for my cousins since my aunt and uncle were usually there to intervene before it went too far.

As I got older, throughout elementary to middle school, the abuse was more emotional and verbal and like I was saying before the purposeful humiliation was common. Whether that be making me look stupid or for instance if we were in public and he seen a girl my age he would loudly try to get her attention to embarrass me. This may not sound that bad, but it’s left scars on me to where I always think I’m being judged or laughed at. There’s more that I’m sure I just can’t think of and if you relate to this you know exactly what I mean. Just a feeling of inadequacy and fear when with him in public. This still weighs on me and has caused a lot of trauma and has left me with lifelong anxiety and shameful feelings that luckily I know will one day heal. I’ve always felt like there was something extremely wrong with me or that I have some kind of mental illness that was never caught or something but all roads lead back to his abuse.

High school was a battleground. Constantly in trouble for smoking and drinking led to three years of regular drug tests and being labeled a terrible addict—even though it was just typical teenage experimentation. The constant surveillance and zero trust were crushing for my mental health. Then came my first breakup. Which wasn’t really a big deal but it triggered genuine suicidal thoughts. Instead of getting me help, my dad showed me the "correct" way to slit my wrists, ensuring I "couldn't mess it up." In a moment that still feels surreal, he kicked me out of the house in the rain immediately after this suicide tutorial, because I wouldn’t do something he wanted me to. I had to walk a mile in the rain until my mom picked me up. That was the moment I truly hated him and saw how awful he was. I vowed that once I was old enough, he would never hear from me again. More recently, two years ago, a particularly painful breakup shattered me. He would strategically bring her up to his friends and family, sharing the details to make me feel even worse. That's when I knew I had to cut him out of my life for good.

I never considered any of this as abuse and repressed all of these feelings until I got older and talked it over with my mom. She told me she had planned to divorce him early on. Deep down, I always suspected I was abused but brushed it off, thinking I might be overreacting or that it was more complicated than that. Even now, I struggle with being touched and understanding physical boundaries, and I still carry a deep-rooted feeling that something is wrong with me. But I know now that it's not me—it's the traumatic experiences I went through as a child.

Connecting with my Grandfather on mom’s side recently has helped. Today I got to listen to his stories while we sat on my mother’s back porch watching the humming birds fly. It made me think of how easy it was to connect with him unlike my own father. He told me stories of his own abusive father, which has been incredibly helpful. Despite his experiences, my grandfather is the kindest, most honest, and most inspirational person I know. He’s a man who despite having gone through something similar, left his abusive home to find a better life with only 5$ in his pocket and his thumb to get him to where he wanted to go. He’s a real man that can tear up watching the sunset while birds chirp over a beautiful sunset. It brings me to tears to think that he didn't let his abuse define him; he became an amazing man. And that goes for me too, and for anyone reading this who has been abused. I hope you're moved by this story and can find comfort in knowing that you aren't alone. Thank you so much for reading and please share me your stories, as I know how much it helps to lay it all out.
I know one day I’ll be watching the hummingbirds whizz around with my kiddos, and they’ll feel safe.