I guess it started at birth because I've been mentally compromised for as long as I can remember. I was always quiet and withdrawn but my parents always brushed it off as being "just shy". Despite the fact that mental health information and support was minimal at this time, I can't help but resent them for not getting it looked into. I'm almost certain I'm on the spectrum and this disorder basically made my life overwhelmingly difficult. I had a very traumatic and unstable childhood in that we moved around a lot hence changed schools a lot which compounded my already severe social issues. I always felt like the new kid and going to school invoked a sense of danger like I was in hostile territory. I witnessed countless instances of domestic violence and saw and heard so many things I shouldn't have. When me and my brother acted out my mom would torture us by telling us that children's aid is coming to take us away and we'll have to live with a foster family. She did this until both of us were hysterically crying and hyperventilating and this happened more than a few times. Little did I know that this would actually happen to some extent when she went on a crack binge and abandoned us with a teen baby sitter who was forced to call children's aid after a few days. This resulted is us living with my grandma for a few months while she was in rehab. Here I witnessed more domestic violence between my grandma and her boyfriend which resulted in his suicide. I remember coming home to more instability when we got the whole talk about mom and dad not being together anymore and that we'd now have a new step dad. This relationship started becoming toxic less than a year in and precipitated more domestic violence for me and my brother to bear witness to. In spite of this they had a third child, my sister. She was a healthy, beautiful, bright eyed little baby girl. I believe this light was extinguished by her father about a year later when he was at my aunt's house throwing her up in the air and she hit her head on the ceiling. She went unconscious, stopped breathing, and went blue and though my mom was able to revive her I think he truly nerfed who she could have been. She was severely developmentally stunted and was diagnosed with a learning disability. Whether or not this was an accident he effectively ruined her life. I witnessed my mom beat the shit out of my brother for no reason (she thought he took the rent money left on the kitchen counter[he didn't]). My earliest traumatic memory is coming home to the farm house to see about a dozen of my so called family members ransacking our house and stealing everything while we were in the process of moving. I remember seeing my dad chasing after one of their cars with a steak knife trying to slash their tires before they could get away. I remember when my grandma assaulted my mom with brass knuckles while she was pregnant. I also remember my mom beating the shit out of her while I was in the car forced to watch. I remember being showed gore by my mom when the internet was first becoming accessable and allowed unsupervised access from then on. When my mom caught me and my cousin playing doctor she shamed me and made me feel like I was evil for it. She held it over my head for years and would threaten to tell my dad about it any time I acted out. This heavily and negatively affected my sexual development. She used to abuse/torture my brother with this thing she called "titty time" where she would smush his face into her bear breasts. I don't necessarily think there was a sexual aspect to this but it was certainly abuse and sadistic. We never starved but I remember times when food and money was scarce and we had to rely on family or the food bank. I remember coming home after the first time being bullied and telling my mom about it. I remember telling her the name he called me (fatso) and instead of offering advice or support she literally laughed about it. I distinctly remember knowing at that point that I had no one to turn to and was the start of having major trust issues. I continued this cycle of abuse by taking it out on my brother from the point he was a baby. I would pinch him until he cried and this continued until he was a toddler. The abuse changed but didn't stop because in addition to the physical abuse I would also call him horrible names and this lasted basically his whole childhood. Out of all the bad things I've done in my life the guilt of this is the greatest and eats me alive inside. I still somehow look back on my childhood and even my parents fondly. I've just highlighted the bad but course life has its highs and lows. I guess a lot of that is just how comparably awful life is now even when weighed against what I thought would be my worst moments. I thought the acute moment of losing my mom would be as bad as it could get. Now I'm completely alone, estranged and alienated from the few loved ones I have left, I'm running out of money and about to be homeless. I'm surrounded by fast food trash from my ubereats addiction in this shitty airbnb and I haven't showered in 4 months. I need to just end this. This is chronologically all over the place but I just need to get this stuff out.
