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RubbishNobody
441 M Embraced 3
PathStep 4 Compassion hearts11 Forum posts9 Forum upvotes14 Current upvotes14 Age GroupAdult Last activeApril, 2017 Member sinceApril 18, 2017
Bio

I have PTSD with Major Dissociative Disorder (or Complex PTSD)
Passively Suicidal.
I like cute things. Material objects fill the void in my life.
Money won't buy happiness, but it will buy me things to make me feel better about life.

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RubbishNobody profile picture
I don't have PTSD, I have TSD. Big Rant, very sorry, you don't have to read; I just want to vent somewhere.
Trauma Support / by RubbishNobody
Last post
 November 2nd, 2017
...See more ****************Trigger warning**************proceed with caution I can't vent anywhere else without the possibility of my parents finding out. You don't have to read all of this or leave a comment, but I think it'd be nice if you did. You don't have to. It's really hard trying to go through PTSD recovery methods when I live with my abusive parents. Coping always winds up culminating into a huge anxiety attack/nervous breakdown. What can I even do when everyday, I roll for the probability of "Please Don't Let my Parents Be Awful to Me Today". It's hard because I have to take care and watch over my younger brother too. I can barely care for myself. Today I was awful, I was so tired from school that I kept ignoring his request to be fed lunch. (Although I did try to reheat and make pizza for him around 1pm, but my grandma came and insisted we eat a sub she bought from subway and wouldn't let me do anything in the kitchen, and since neither my brother and I like subs, I didn't eat and he didn't eat. He asked me again later for food, but I was in the middle of napping and really frustrated about being disturbed. So he didn't get lunch today.) I'm awful to my brother most of the time. I don't want to be. The way I treat him is a straight-up reflection of how my father treats me. It's really hard not to be awful, so I try to just ignore my brother and not be around him. But since he's a 10-year-old with no sense of boundaries, he keeps intruding and I can't and I snap. Sometimes I feel like giving him a severe beating, but I know it's wrong. But that's the only way I learned how from my dad. I've done a lot of abusive things to my brother...I once tried to smother him with a pillow as a toddler because I was so tired and stressed and I was trying to put him to sleep so I could go back to work but he didn't and I held down a pillow to his face, but I stopped because I really don't want to kill my brother. I love him, but I was having a rough time in beginning high school and I just didn't have the capability to look after a 2 year old when I couldn't even look after myself. High school was rough because all that childhood trauma just came back, paired up with depression. I did not have ANY treatment whatsoever during this period. In fact, I didn't get treatment until I freaked out and sabotaged myself during my dental hygiene program. There was a therapist they started to hire around that time, and she gave me a plan to fix myself, but it took a while for my parents to even understand that I wasn't mentally capable to finish the program. When I quit I was just so relieved. I didn't really want to take that program, but my parents made me when none of the university/college programs they wanted me in didn't accept me. that school. It was a privatized college and it sucked. I tried to be good in the beginning, but I felt like it wasn't rewarding to get good grades or make an effort. So I stopped trying. Oh my, the gossip mavens country girls can be. It's none of their business, but telling the program director and other students that I'm just lazy and tired from staying up and gaming? That's rude. That period of time was actually the time I played games the least in my whole life. It just happens that I have one of the crappiest depression side-effects: excessive tiredness and lack of energy. It almost borders on idiopathic narcolepsy (I scared away my driving teacher because I was passing out at the wheel. Out of stress). I took so many sleep tests for my parents to try to figure out what was wrong. All those sleeping tests and doctor appointment bookings were a waste of time. But I was hoping, maybe I have narcolepsy, maybe then people will leave me alone when I pass out and not talk rubbish, maybe then I could get treatment for narcolepsy and everything will be better. But I don't have narcolepsy. I have depression. And complex PTSD. That wasn't acceptable for anyone. For all the lip service the school instructors said about how people with depression have a hard time, the moment they have a (very clearly) depressed student, all that shit about being understanding went out the window (and into the dumpster. and the dumpster got set on fire.). Telling my father about depression was one of the hardest things I ever did. He started screaming (I don't remember what he started off with, but it soon devolved into "WHY ARE YOU CRYING WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, etc."). I even crawled to the basement and hid under furniture, but he found me and still continued yelling the same thing (WHY ARE YOU CRYING, IM JUST TRYING TO TALK TO YOU, YOU MUST REALLY HAVE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU, GO TAKE YOUR MEDICATION NOW). I took a double dose so that'd he'd stop. I...don't like remembering this. But I have to. It just proves why I shouldn't tell my abusive parents about why I'm sick (unless I really want that some abuse, mhm ,yep, absolutely). The funny thing is, they're always asking, "Why don't you tell us anything?Tell us what's wrong." (I tried. It was a mistake, evidently.) I'm not sure why I'm doing this when I should be studying for exams tomorrow. How does one study two weeks in advance and still not remember or understand anything? Neuroplasticity damage sucks. Edited by dancingRainbow45 on 21/04/17 Trigger warning put into message, and two inappropriate words removed.
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