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smilingintherain81
492 M Embraced 4
PathStep 14 Compassion hearts19 Forum posts8 Forum upvotes8 Current upvotes8 Age GroupAdult Last activeJanuary, 1970 Member sinceApril 2, 2015
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My traumas(extreme triggers)
Trauma Support / by smilingintherain81
Last post
 April 5th, 2015
...See more I wish I could say I had one, or two, but there are many. My autism takes over when I'm writing, so please bear with me. I was born with autism when it didn't exist, especially to the extremely poor in america. I was verbal, functioning. What else matters. My mother didn't want me. She was a closet lesbian and she hated having to raise a girl. She would leave me in my car seat for hours screaming hungry and wet. I remember. Funny thing about autism I remember every second of my life. I have extreme claustrophobia when I feel trapped. Only when trapped. When I was four she married my stepmonster. He noticed how "odd" I was immediately. He began raping the evil out of me. Gave me to his friends so he could get small crap favors. I had a rabbit. He mutilated it because I told him no. And I learned never to say no. When he was found out I wouldn't speak. He never got in trouble. Mom came out of the closet, dressed me like a boy while she could, before I had a choice. It was cheaper she'd say. She cut my hair like a boys and everybody made fun of me. She stayed drunk and on drugs. I kept the house up and walked two miles to the store and two miles bike with the ebt card I took from her. I was nine. I babysat, cleaned houses, cared for dogs, went to school. I worked in the empty fields in our town for her in the sun hoeing for hours and cleaning debris so she could earn drinking money. I had a boyfriend, in a sweet innocent manner. Then she left me at thier house and his brother tried to rape me. He saved me, but thought I was a whore and never spoke to me again. John popped up. And oldexican man with a granddaughter my age. I thought they were nice, but he tried to hurt me too. I was shaking and nonverbal, and thankfully he had some decency left. He stopped and he and my friend disappeared. When I was sixteen and drunk at a party with friends a boy I didn't know kept trying to be with me. I said no. I was so proud. I had to fight to say those words. He thought I was playing hard to get. He waiting til I was asleep and started raping me. I fought. Didn't do any good. And when I went to the bathroom and found blood in my underwear I freaked. Went nonverbal. Heard my stepfather in my head. Saw my rabbit laying broke. And I went and played back down. Nine months later I was the town whore, and I had a beautiful angel in my arms. Everyone hated me. Mom disowned me for the first time. She finally got sober at least. 19 I met him. And o thought the sun rose and set for him. He was beautiful flawless, an angel...until he wasn't. He'd beat me, rape me. Shove needles in my veins trying to break me. I was a whore always. He shattered my eardrums over and over with his abuse. And when our son came he used him to control me. Over and over I fought to get my son out. Always ending up walking down the highway in the middle of the night blood running down me. Sometimes when I'd get out he'd run to my mom, and tell her whatever it was he told her, and she would use my daughter against me to make me "go home" Finally I got out, was working. I didn't havey son, but everything else was good. I met a guy, married. He hurt me in ways I can't even describe. There were no fists. No rape. But his words cut so deep. We had two beautiful boys, and I gained a lot of weight. I was dying inside. Whatever spark I was born with was dying out, and I was a shell. So I gathered the embers and I took my boys and got out. Found out my eldest son wasn't doing good. And as a woman who'd decided to be strong I went back to my first abuser, not to make things work, but to rescue my son. That was the worst time of my life. I got him out, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk about how much it cost me. Immediately after I got them out my entire family stood up in court on my youngest children's fathers side and helped them get custody. I rescued my eldest, and relegated my youngest to a life in hell. I joined the army. Fought and fought and fought. Got strong again. But I can't seem to heal. I feel like I'm a raging volcano of pain and rage and grief that I don't know how to fix. No matter how good I have made my life, no matter how hard I've taught there are days I sabatoge everything I've worked for and days I cry and scream and cry in silence. I don't have friends. I don't make them. I can't. Between the autism and the fear I feel trapped inside and I need to let all this go.
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