At_The_Threshold
Member
- Jun 20, 2023
- 5
I keep thinking that there is no real reason for me to feel this way, to think I should be on this website. I keep thinking that my supposed trauma is not comparable to those who have suffered far worse than I, and that in turn makes me feel weak that I allowed such relatively small things effect me in a overwhelming way. But I will try to use humor as was recommended on this site to make writing and reading this easier.
All things return to my time in primary school, I was around seven at the time. I reluctantly mention that this was a Catholic School, because I know how most people feel about religion here. Roald Dahl did not pick purely from imagination when designing sadistic teachers who would put strenuous effort in making kids miserable. My memories of the time are blurry and fragmented, but the after-images are still there. This mainly consisted of incessant screaming from teachers looming over you in your desks, walking the corridors with an overwhelming fear and dread of some unknown thing. I cried every day. The final straw was being physically hit twice by a teacher (who looked like the lady from the Pink Flamingos film) for crying after being ordered to push a tray full of gym mats. To put a long story short, told my parents, police were called, school threatened to expel the eyewitnesses, I transferred.
As I mention before, I look back on this and think, "That's it?" despite my lingering scars, I feel anger and confusion that there are those who have suffered far greater than me yet I have the gall to put my "trauma" on par with theirs. It makes me feel weak.
My father left the family when I was thirteen. That killed me. I know that he left my mother, not me. He left to take care of his parents on the other side of the globe. It left me feeling worthless, inadequate, not worthy of attention, of care. Its hard to appreciate my mother's love, and all her hard work. I can recognize that, and I can at least be grateful for that.
Throughout life, I was brought up to be the special gifted autistic child, promises of university and grand life. Heaps of praise inflated my pretentious ego.
I think a lot of my self-loathing and social phobias come from listening to radical figures on the internet during my late teenage years. Ridiculous nonsense about women, race, and politics. Whilst I can look back on these things as being untrue and harmful, they seemed to exacerbate the low self-esteem issues I had and I still cannot seem to shake the perennial sense of inadequacy I have to other young people.
I am self-employed, odd-job gardening here and there. I should be proud, they say. But I don't really.
For many years I experemented with spirituallty, particularly the occult. I seeked intense spiritual experience. I look back on those days of daily rituals and reading endless, overpriced books, was I seeking enlightenment, or escape? I seemed to fill my days with those thoughts and rituals, in between gaming, trying to distract myself from the fact that I was greatly dissatisfied with life and myself. In my last days I kept asking "tell me what to do!" because even though I denied it, I had lost motivation in life.
Something happened after I left my first job. I had to leave after my disability (feet-related) made it too difficult to work. I suddenly became aware of a great sense of loss, an inherent emptiness. All my senses feel like they are being shoved through a funnel. I feel like I was conned or rejected by my spiritual studies, I feel repulsed or avoidant of others, I feel a loss of enjoyment in almost everything, or at least a false shadow of sensation.
I will being therapy next week. But I am so scared and angry. I thought I was done with dealing with my trauma. I don't want to lose my seeking for spirituality but I feel like a part of me, if not all of it, suddenly died or I suddenly became aware of an emptiness in me when I quit my job.
Whatever happens, I just hope I can feel happy again, I want to look forward to the next day. I think I hated myself so such that I eventually stopped feeling overall.
All things return to my time in primary school, I was around seven at the time. I reluctantly mention that this was a Catholic School, because I know how most people feel about religion here. Roald Dahl did not pick purely from imagination when designing sadistic teachers who would put strenuous effort in making kids miserable. My memories of the time are blurry and fragmented, but the after-images are still there. This mainly consisted of incessant screaming from teachers looming over you in your desks, walking the corridors with an overwhelming fear and dread of some unknown thing. I cried every day. The final straw was being physically hit twice by a teacher (who looked like the lady from the Pink Flamingos film) for crying after being ordered to push a tray full of gym mats. To put a long story short, told my parents, police were called, school threatened to expel the eyewitnesses, I transferred.
As I mention before, I look back on this and think, "That's it?" despite my lingering scars, I feel anger and confusion that there are those who have suffered far greater than me yet I have the gall to put my "trauma" on par with theirs. It makes me feel weak.
My father left the family when I was thirteen. That killed me. I know that he left my mother, not me. He left to take care of his parents on the other side of the globe. It left me feeling worthless, inadequate, not worthy of attention, of care. Its hard to appreciate my mother's love, and all her hard work. I can recognize that, and I can at least be grateful for that.
Throughout life, I was brought up to be the special gifted autistic child, promises of university and grand life. Heaps of praise inflated my pretentious ego.
I think a lot of my self-loathing and social phobias come from listening to radical figures on the internet during my late teenage years. Ridiculous nonsense about women, race, and politics. Whilst I can look back on these things as being untrue and harmful, they seemed to exacerbate the low self-esteem issues I had and I still cannot seem to shake the perennial sense of inadequacy I have to other young people.
I am self-employed, odd-job gardening here and there. I should be proud, they say. But I don't really.
For many years I experemented with spirituallty, particularly the occult. I seeked intense spiritual experience. I look back on those days of daily rituals and reading endless, overpriced books, was I seeking enlightenment, or escape? I seemed to fill my days with those thoughts and rituals, in between gaming, trying to distract myself from the fact that I was greatly dissatisfied with life and myself. In my last days I kept asking "tell me what to do!" because even though I denied it, I had lost motivation in life.
Something happened after I left my first job. I had to leave after my disability (feet-related) made it too difficult to work. I suddenly became aware of a great sense of loss, an inherent emptiness. All my senses feel like they are being shoved through a funnel. I feel like I was conned or rejected by my spiritual studies, I feel repulsed or avoidant of others, I feel a loss of enjoyment in almost everything, or at least a false shadow of sensation.
I will being therapy next week. But I am so scared and angry. I thought I was done with dealing with my trauma. I don't want to lose my seeking for spirituality but I feel like a part of me, if not all of it, suddenly died or I suddenly became aware of an emptiness in me when I quit my job.
Whatever happens, I just hope I can feel happy again, I want to look forward to the next day. I think I hated myself so such that I eventually stopped feeling overall.