u/notveryanonymouss

TRIGGER WARNING

I’ve always had a foggy memory of being sat at a kitchen table with this older blonde lady making me tea and cookies. It always seemed like a nice memory, but it didn’t make any sense? Who was that? Why was I there? Then I remember the sneaking around, feeling comfortable enough to just walk into this strangers house because she told me I was her friend, and she loved having me around. My parents didn’t notice me being gone, they were too busy trying to kill eachother. I’d sneak out in the middle of the night, prime drinking/getting high time for them. And go next door. I was 5.

Then I had memories of this heavy dance or rock track keeping me awake every night. I couldn’t get it out of my head. When I’d hear the bass pumping through my pillow, I was filled with dread. I knew I had to go do something I didn’t want to.

Then memories came back of all my childhood nightmares, when there’d be someone at the bedroom door telling me to take my pyjamas off. Telling me it’s ok, it’s good. It always cut off in my memory the second their hand was about to touch me. My mum remembered a time I asked for the day off school, that I didn’t feel well. It was very unlike me so she said yes. I escaped by saying I wanted to play in my treehouse, but built a set of stairs out of paint cans to reach the latch on the gate. As soon as she said “paint cans” I felt violently ill. I can picture it clear as day, and I can feel the overwhelming sense of dread and guilt.

Then a year later I remembered being dizzy, laying on some sort of bathroom floor, bright lights, and that same voice telling me it’s ok. Again I remember the feeling rather than the scene. I felt high. Really high, on something, but again, I was 5.

Then I remembered developing a fear of showers, a fear of the dark, and a fear of losing control. Two different occasions I got stuck in public toilets, one when I was 9, one when I was 12. Both instances I had panic attacks and assumed I was going to die or worse. Everyone was baffled at me. Still nobody seems concerned.

I started having extreme genital pain which went on between 8 years old to 13. I was hospitalised a few times. Was told it was all in my head. Nobody seemed concerned.

I started puberty. I went crazy when I started experiencing sexual desires. Especially because it was for the same gender, and in 2012, people hated that shit. I spent every night praying I’d die in my sleep, or be locked in some sort of asylum so I couldn’t hurt anyone. Intrusive thoughts started, and I thought I was a predator, however, I still had no understanding of what sex actually was, or orgasms. Still thought it was just getting naked and I don’t know, massaging each other?

I’d been having sexual thoughts constantly since around age 6/7. I was always picturing everyone naked. I would make disgusting suggestions and when people said no I’d try to convince them I was joking. I made everyone around me uncomfortable. My crushes were obsessions, any friends that would invite me for sleepovers would find me sleeping in the bath because I didn’t trust myself to be around them. Then intrusive thoughts involved anyone and everyone. The worst of the worst. I cried for hours begging my sister to not make me lay next to my baby nephew, to stop him from falling. Every time they changed the babies, I felt triggered. I felt sick. I was 9.

Last night I remembered the blonde neighbour taking me shopping for clothes. I wrote the date on the price tag. It felt important. I remember which shop it was, it was newly opened in 2006. I was 6, potentially 5. My mum has gaslit me into oblivion saying I was ALWAYS with her. Saying it’s impossible. But then in the next breath saying, “I believe you though”. I still haven’t remembered the main stuff, the most traumatising stuff. I don’t know if I can deal with it.

Right now I’m having nightmares every night, I keep getting sleep paralysis and waking up halfway but feeling trapped. Desperately trying to get my phone and call my partner or wake her beside me, but in reality just choking and dry heaving. I’ll sleep in 15 minute intervals and eventually give up when I get too scared to go back to sleep.

They heard my song on one of my posts. Said there’ll be “no AI bashing” at the event. Bro the whole point of me writing music is that I share my opinions. I’m mostly disappointed because I’ve sat and had a drink with this guy and he seems super chill, and now I’m picturing him chatting to a computer in his spare time. Eugh

*EDIT*

“I don’t believe this story”. Ok?

I’ll retell the entire series of events then. I went to an open mic and tested some new material, mostly unfinished stuff. I met a guy who was also playing; he offered me a gig and tried to help network me in with a load of musicians. We chatted about how crap the open mic was and how it was misadvertised as a music thing (people were mostly watching the football). Then he left.

The organisers had ran out of people to play, asked me to play again. They filmed it. I uploaded one snippet to my instagram. Guy I chatted with messaged this morning to say he thought the song was distasteful and if I wanted the gig he was doing, I needed to stop “bashing ai”. I said no. He pulled me from the line up.

I have somehow ended up going from looking up my abuser to reading chats from years ago when I was very hypersexual. Was anyone else like this before they figured things out? I really did not give a shit about myself. Everything was sex related, everyone was ‘making me horny’. Sent pictures fishing for compliments and attention off my own friends. Not fully nude but not dressed. It’s so uncomfortable to read. The very strange person who I thought I lost my virginity to 8 years ago. That chat’s embarrassing as hell. I was 19, not a kid. Just letting people degrade me and degrading myself.

Then chats where I was being dumped by whoever I was dating that month. And I would demonise those people so much, almost like they were terrible people because they rejected me. Like it was genuinely the end of the world. It was becoming incel like. Thank fuck I snapped out of that. I don’t even recognise myself from 3+ years ago. I was a horrible bitch. And that’s the only way I knew how to be. Miserable.

I’ve seen all the messed up documentaries and docuseries’, but one always stuck out to me. I watched it in around 2019 I believe, and it made me so angry in a way none of the others did. I went online to ask people if they’d experienced the same reaction compared to others, and a few agreed it was one of the worst, but nothing specifically made it worse than hearing about other crimes.

This year I’ve figured out I was regularly abused by an adult neighbour. A woman. The documentary was Abducted in Plain Sight. It’s a similar story. I was 5-7 years old. I don’t remember what my abuser told me in order to gaslight be to come over. But there was threat, along with “it’ll get you away from your mother who’s so horrible”. Which is true, I wanted an escape.

I just can’t remember what it was that she said to me, in terms of ‘why’. She definitely gave me a reason why it had to be done, because that’s how I felt. Like I didn’t have a choice.

Then I acted it out with imaginary friends for years, kidnaps and sex (or what I thought sex was). I said horrible, sexual shit as a 5 year old to my friends and siblings. I don’t even know what stopped me from playing these “games” with real people, but I’m so fucking thankful there was doubt. I could’ve ruined peoples lives. I often had disturbing, intrusive thoughts at sleepovers but would have small doubts of what was right and wrong, or real and not real, so locked myself in peoples bathrooms and slept on the floor or in the bath.

Between 7 and 12 years old I had chronic genital pain and was in and out of hospital being told I was “making it up for attention”. A male doctor once had me alone in a room and asked me “what have you been doing to yourself? Using objects?”. I had no idea what he meant. Then at 9 I was diagnosed with epilepsy, and was constantly in the hospital. It was so severe I was pulled out of school at 15 for 10 months and had major brain surgery.

When puberty came and people tried to teach me about sex, I just could not comprehend it. My brain refused to believe it, to the point I gaslit myself into thinking I was the only one having sexual thoughts. That was the worst few years of my life, school went to shit, everyone was calling me lazy and stupid for failing everything I used to be ok at. I was terrified of leaving the house in case I’d hurt somebody or make everyone uncomfortable. Then at the same time there was ongoing jokes that I was a perv, people had clocked I was lesbian before I had and it wasn’t a very tolerant area. At 13 I started replying to the men and boys that would message me everyday on Facebook, knowing what they wanted, and giving it to them. It became the only thing I thought I could offer people.

When I was 15/16 and finally came to terms that people my age were doing this thing I’ve obsessed about for years, then I became hypersexual. I downloaded dating apps and lied about my age. I managed to not get into dangerous situations until I was 19. Then I was drinking heavily and sleeping with anyone who’d have me - which, luckily wasn’t that many people (although at the time made me feel even more worthless).

Then I’m 23 and finally in a serious relationship, I thought I loved her, but I was just experiencing being loved for the first time. I had to have the lights off or my eyes closed/blindfolded to be able to have sex. I made out it was a kink - I thought it was. It was just because it turned out I could only stand having sex with people that didn’t like me. The idea of someone liking me made me feel ill, but I was trying so hard to let her love me, thinking I’d love her back if I just gave it time, I’d be less insecure then. Inevitably I know I hurt her and confused her when I ended things suddenly, but I’m glad I didn’t let it go on any further.

Now it’s been 8 years and for the first time I’m in a healthy relationship, which I never thought I’d have. They say healthy relationships make you face parts of yourself you haven’t been able to see alone. I’ve had memories of things I’d “dream” all the time as a child. My family has confirmed it all to be true. My mother never called authorities because the abuser was a woman. Her words. If you wanna know how my family have decided to deal with it, see my last post. I’m this close to cutting them off completely.

TLDR: My mum is guilt tripping me for wanting space after finding out I was sexually abused between 5 and 7 years old, when I was supposed to be in her care. ____________________________

I’ve spent a few years in therapy; in the last 2 I’ve been unlocking childhood memories that make a lot of things about me make sense. I was already going through all the abuse from my parents, and then I remembered multiple times I was sexually abused by my grown neighbour from the ages of 5-7. I remembered using that as an escape from my mum, thinking it was a safe place to go to even if I didn’t like all the things that happened. She found out from my sister that id figured this out, called me, and told me that yes, she’d “suddenly” remembered that too. She had these new “sudden” memories, but wasn’t willing to tell me what they were over the phone. She said she was going to fly over (I live away from them) during my week off I’d booked to relax, and I needed to find her and my dad somewhere to stay. With about 30 things the place needed to have in order for them to “cope”.

She and my dissociated dad got here, (first texted my that she’s “on holiday” with a selfie) told me to “talk” and I said “I’ve been waiting for a month for this information YOU have about what happened to me. YOU talk.” Everything contradicted the next thing. “Yes you went over there a lot”, “You were only there once! I always had my eye on you”. She admitted remembering me coming home with clothes back to front pretty often and having this sudden rage as a 5 year old, screaming and swearing at everyone. (I also had 4 years of chronic pelvic/vaginal pain I was going to a&e with constantly. Doctors told me I must’ve have been “doing stuff” to myself. Didn’t know what that meant at the time.) She sat there and coldly told me I should’ve talked to her if I wanted “adult friends” and doesn’t understand why I did. I briefly began to mention I wasn’t a fan of being at home with her and dad killing eachother half the time and telling me to piss off the other half. She told me that every break up, every house move, the drinking, it all came back to me. It was all either for, or because, of me. Their practically mute 5 year old.

It’s been a couple of months and she’s called a few times demanding I go to the police (it’s 25 years later by the way, and I’ve said a hundred times that my nightmares and flashbacks aren’t reliable to me and it’s still a bit vague in my memory). Because it’s all too hard for her. Talking about it like it’s a Netflix documentary. “This is how these people get away with it!” “That’s how these cases go”. Then she told me that she knew “another girl on the same road was also being abused!” And demanded I go talk to this girl I haven’t seen in 20 years, and ask if she (my mum) is right. Then she told me (“in cases like these”) that most victims kill themselves, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if this other girl did that, so it’s my job to go speak to her.

It was my birthday last week, and I asked my mum for some space “just for now”. And wow. I’ve received a book’s worth of insane texts. A few mentioning that this one thing that happened to me “took her baby away” “took away all of my achievements and good days”. Like she didn’t ruin my graduation a few years ago, turning up late and forcing me to change all my original plans for it. Or surprising me at my first very big important gig, making all the musicians uncomfortable and heckling me while I was introducing songs. She mentioned how blessed she is and how she’s letting “god” down. She doesn’t believe in god and hasn’t gone to church in 40 years.

Now she’s resorted to calling me cruel. Telling me everyone is mad at me. Telling me my dad wants to kill himself because of me. I ruined my niece’s birthday party by not flying home after getting 3 days notice from my sister about the party. My sister is “broken” because I didn’t reply to her last text. Telling me nobody is perfect and we all have problems. She keeps saying my dad has had to deal with a lot recently and “if I gave a fuck” I would know that. (I do know that). Comparing me not talking to them (for a week) to my little cousin being killed in a vehicle collision 10 years ago. Saying my uncle lost his daughter and now I’m forcing my dad to go through the same thing.

And for context. The last time I went home (which was the first in over a year), I brought my girlfriend. They spent the entire “surprise party” they threw for me, trying to convince my girlfriend she could find someone better. Mum pulled her aside several times to bitch about me. Everyone spoke about how I mustn’t cook or clean or treat her well or dress up nice. My nan was telling everyone she “just doesn’t get it” and my grandpa would be “rolling in his grave”. (I’m a lesbian.) Why the fuck would I go endure that when I can optionally stay as far away as possible.

Just a casual request to customers that even if the staff look “too tired” for your liking; please don’t stand in the middle of the shop like paparazzi and post it on a public Google review. Thanks. Already have two bad reviews anyway because I have rbf (when I’m not serving a customer) and forget to switch my autism off.
I get good feedback pretty often in person, but online I look evil. Rip

I have worked in retail in the same place for 5 years. Every day I try my best and get a lot of positive feedback from customers telling me I’ve ’made their day’ or what not. However, the people who go out of their way to write a review online? They make sure to name drop me, and only ever have horrible things to say.

From ‘stone cold bitch Karen’ to ‘probably hungover red faced student’ (I wasn’t hungover or a student). Or the first thing now that pops up when you type the store name in Google. “Why’s _____ so angry?”

My manager doesn’t gaf and knows it’s fairly likely I did nothing wrong and it’s just customers being customers. But I’ve been going to interviews, and I know they’ll obviously look my name up with my job. It’s a running joke with friends that I only get bad reviews. None of them are even about specific circumstances. Just that my overall ‘energy’ is cold and aggressive apparently.

What’s annoyed me is that my colleagues have been getting nice reviews - but I’m doing my job and theirs most of the time while they stand and chat to one customer for far too long. And then they get rewarded for being nice while I’m doing all their work in a very busy store.

Anyone else dealt with this?