Story Why I am here on SS Holding a Bus Ticket

[WhiteDespair]

I was going to write this in another topic. And, it became an absolute mess and much longer than I anticipated. I didn't want to overwhelm someone's topic with this monstrosity. This is why I am here on SS wondering what to do with my bus ticket.

Grow up "raised" by an alcoholic bipolar single mother who worked the night shift. 6th grade was when it fell off. My mother convinced me that my Dad was horrible and I broke contact with him. Mom tried to CtB. At some point during all this mom got really drunk one night, came into my room and started holding me. Regardless of how I complained or squirmed she wouldn't leave me alone. I managed to get free and tried to sleep at the kitchen table. She followed me. The closet. She followed me. Then, the couch. She followed me. I managed to throw her off me. She said, "You hurt me. You hurt me." I ran to my room and locked myself in. The last thing I heard that night was her trying to pick my lock with a knife. That never really stopped. Whenever she wanted to she would come into my room and into my bed. It didn't matter if I physically kicked her out, told her to leave or complained in front of others. It made no difference. If she wanted that physical closeness she'd climb into my bed. I still do not know whether or not she was looking for sex. It's awesome to think those thoughts. Didn't remember that one until I had a legitimate anxiety/panic attack at 2am when sleeping next to my college girlfriend for the first time. I bolted from her apartment. She was probably very confused.

Then, there was the everyday neglect. She stopped making dinner when I wouldn't eat. I later pieced it together that I would ask at 5pm. She wouldn't get up until 6. Then, 630-7pm would be something from a bag heated in a pot. I remember getting yelled at because I didn't like mom's teriyaki chicken (frozen Tyson thighs) and preferred my friend's mom' (grilled chicken breasts with teriyaki sauce). Eventually, she stopped making dinner altogether because I got fed up waiting until 7pm or later for dinner so I stopped asking. Then, my diet was pretty much PopTarts, Hot Pockets, Frozen Taquitos, TV Dinners, Chey Boyardee and Campbell's soup.

There was no interaction with her. I asked her many times to play Monopoly or poker because I was kinda smart and wanted the advanced games. She would always say no and instead want to play Connect 4 or war. There were enough times I won twice in the same game that I'm convinced she was drunk and war has no strategy. She was vindictive as well. On several occasions she would use the fact that I didn't go to see a show with her as justification as to why she wouldn't take me to a show. My interactions would be doing nerdy/geeky stuff until 5pm after school and then playing video games all day.

Throughout everything she destroyed my sense of self-esteem, self-actualization and self-confidence. My successes were treated as failures and my failures were treated as castrophes. I excitedly told her that a diorama was put on display in school. She berated me for not having the paper on display as well. I told her that I aced writing classes in college. She wanted to know about the others. There was no encouagment. Only negativity and belittlement. The best example is the difference between mowing the lawn for my mom ("You missed a spot!" "Where did I miss?" "Over there!") and my Dad ("Lawn looks good, buddy."). I missed every spot even the ones that didn't exist.

The only interaction I would have with her would be when she was screaming at me to do stuff, telling me to do stuff at 8am which I promptly forgot when I fell back asleep, saying that she wanted the communication whenever I suggested that she should write me a list because I'd forget when I fell asleep, getting a pot of water tossed on me (and the mattress ruined) when I told her I didn't feel like getting yelled at, seeing her sitting on the toilet, smoking a cigaratte, panties around her ankles, letting the dog drink from the tub, seeing her never close the door when getting ready for work, having her smile and act nicely to me whenever she wanted something from me (usually to get her meds from the pharmacy because she was embarassed) [it took me months and years and maybe not 100% over it to realize that when someone smiled at me it didn't mean that they were trying to extract value from me], saying "I love you" but really meaning "I hope you don't make it home tonight" so the words lost all meaning, getting swung at when the emotional and physical abuse wasn't having the desired effect, having a police report filed (no charges) when I had to physically restrain her just to get out of the house and over to my friend's house to get away from her [I seem to recall noticing that I would have to hurt her to protect myself during her earlier drunken escapades], getting that police report thrown in my face whenever she felt like it [like when I took home a medal in college karate. I stopped going to karate and I enjoyed it], dealing with her inconsistant rages, depressions and sort of normalcies so that telling her one thing would be okay at night and leading to getting sceamed at in the morning. Eventually, I became so completely numb and dead weight that when I got fired from a minor job because of a miscommunication (my fault for not writing my schedule down and being poor at communicating) that she started screaming at me for losing the job. I did only and exactly what she told me to do regarding the job search [I started the night before]. She placed her hands around my throat and tensed them. She didn't squeeze. I don't know if I would have fought back.

This isn't to say I wasn't a petulent little brat. Of course I was. That is how I was "raised." I know I engaged in behaviors to help me survive. I know I never learned pro-social behaviors. I didn't really have a chance.

After mom put her hands around my neck she called my aunt for backup. My mom did that whenever she needed a hand. My aunt was right there to help her. She didn't act as mediator or arbiter. She took mom's side and, because I was the child, I was wrong. The only person who would have protected me and looked out for me was my Dad and my mom had so thoroughly convinced me that he was the most awful person on the planet that I didn't get in touch with him until college and that was only because his number was on a webpage. I remember crying in my car because that was the only place I could talk freely.

All my aunt did was think I was greedy (I got boxes of cards from mom instead of packs which the other kids got, and I made the unpardonable sin of saying I wanted all of the McDonald's X-men toys at my elementary school graduation) [I am convinced that my mother could only show her love and affection through material means.], chide me for behavior issues (she worked with special needs kids and never put my bad behavior together with my lovely home life, or she chose not to see it) and contributed to the Lie of Normalcy. That is the when my mom and my aunt convinced me that my life was normal, standard, everyone has it. Yes, all the abuse, neglect and misery was normal. It was normal for me because that's all I hqd and all I knew. This is your life. It is normal. Being abused is normal. Being manipulated is normal. Your life is normal. Who's coming over for Thanksgiving?

As a small aside, there was extreme isolation as I never wanted to bring people home to see my mom walking around with only a nightshirt which barely covered her panties. My family was belitted and demeaned. I can see the icey hatred in mom's eyes. The same thing happened with friends. Mom taught me that image was more important than substance and you better be as perfect as your image. That also means that the answer to "are you okay?" is always "yes" regardless as to whether or not you just spent 44 minutes deciding whether or not to whip your car off of the freeway. Every time I went to her for help I wound up having myself or my problems belittled by her. Eventually, you just stop. You stop reaching out for help. You stop trusting. You stop letting people in. You react viciously when someone gets too close. You live in a state of living death wondering if it's real or if you're just a phantasm drifting through the lives of the real people.

While touched on briefly elsewhere mom had codependent and spousification tendencies. So, she sabotaged my attempts at independence to keep me enthralled to her while simultaneously projecting spousal roles (man of the house, etc.) onto me. I had no training in that regard. I had no contact with my family. Mom made sure to villify and cut them out of my life and convince me that they're evil people. One of my biggest regrets is that I didn't see my grandmother before she died because my mind was so polluted against her. She wanted to see me before she died and I wouldn't see her. My Dad can forgive me because I "had my reasons." I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. I miss my grandma.

I am here because of 26 years of everything above smashed into the true me. That is the strong, competent person that I am now (moreso anyway). I see who and what I could have been if I had a functional life. I'm cycling through periods of rage and sadness. I absolutely adore collapsing on the floor when I get home, my body in a singular emotional contraction, for 15 minutes at a clip. I love getting a little better and getting smashed in the teeth with the realization that this could have been me the entire time. I lovw the fact that the drugs no longer work because the Prozac and Adderall have antagonistic properties. I love the fact that I have no hopes or dreams or plans for the future. They were either beaten out of me or dismissed. People say to visualize what you want out of life. I love that there isn't anything there.

The only constant thing I've wanted for the past 2 decades is death. In high school I took like 16 Advil and fell asleep. My friend came over later, woke me up and we did stuff. A few years later when I flunked out of college (mom's encouragement was "you won't be here next year" and "you don't know how to work" and "worthless" when I flunked out). I was working at a summer job between semesters. I took a whole bunch of stuff from the medicine cabinet. All OTC like Advil, Nyquil, etc. I remember waking up in the middle of the nightand vomiting blue specks into the toilet. In college I took Adderall and did double shots until I blacked out and wound up in detox. I woke up elated that I almost died. That didn't last too long. A couple years ago I went to go see a show. Had some Adderall and drinks. Went to a strip club. Maxed out my credit card, did coke and champagne with the strippers (they offered) until I blacked out. I only made it home because of the kindness of a taxi driver. Great guy. I sometimes wish he let me feeze to death on the streets.

I look back and I see the only thing that I wanted was death. I look forward and I see a void. I'm here trying to figure out whether life and the effort I'd have to put into it is actually worth it considering that my life is half over and whatever I do manage to get will be less than what I could have gotten if I had a functional life.

CtB is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. The temporary problem is life.

Thank you for taking the time to read or briefly skim this. For much of this stuff it is the first time I ever admitted and stated it in public. That's a step in a direction.

 

[MeltingHeart]

I was going to write this in another topic. And, it became an absolute mess and much longer than I anticipated. I didn't want to overwhelm someone's topic with this monstrosity. This is why I am here on SS wondering what to do with my bus ticket.

Grow up "raised" by an alcoholic bipolar single mother who worked the night shift. 6th grade was when it fell off. My mother convinced me that my Dad was horrible and I broke contact with him. Mom tried to CtB. At some point during all this mom got really drunk one night, came into my room and started holding me. Regardless of how I complained or squirmed she wouldn't leave me alone. I managed to get free and tried to sleep at the kitchen table. She followed me. The closet. She followed me. Then, the couch. She followed me. I managed to throw her off me. She said, "You hurt me. You hurt me." I ran to my room and locked myself in. The last thing I heard that night was her trying to pick my lock with a knife. That never really stopped. Whenever she wanted to she would come into my room and into my bed. It didn't matter if I physically kicked her out, told her to leave or complained in front of others. It made no difference. If she wanted that physical closeness she'd climb into my bed. I still do not know whether or not she was looking for sex. It's awesome to think those thoughts. Didn't remember that one until I had a legitimate anxiety/panic attack at 2am when sleeping next to my college girlfriend for the first time. I bolted from her apartment. She was probably very confused.

Then, there was the everyday neglect. She stopped making dinner when I wouldn't eat. I later pieced it together that I would ask at 5pm. She wouldn't get up until 6. Then, 630-7pm would be something from a bag heated in a pot. I remember getting yelled at because I didn't like mom's teriyaki chicken (frozen Tyson thighs) and preferred my friend's mom' (grilled chicken breasts with teriyaki sauce). Eventually, she stopped making dinner altogether because I got fed up waiting until 7pm or later for dinner so I stopped asking. Then, my diet was pretty much PopTarts, Hot Pockets, Frozen Taquitos, TV Dinners, Chey Boyardee and Campbell's soup.

There was no interaction with her. I asked her many times to play Monopoly or poker because I was kinda smart and wanted the advanced games. She would always say no and instead want to play Connect 4 or war. There were enough times I won twice in the same game that I'm convinced she was drunk and war has no strategy. She was vindictive as well. On several occasions she would use the fact that I didn't go to see a show with her as justification as to why she wouldn't take me to a show. My interactions would be doing nerdy/geeky stuff until 5pm after school and then playing video games all day.

Throughout everything she destroyed my sense of self-esteem, self-actualization and self-confidence. My successes were treated as failures and my failures were treated as castrophes. I excitedly told her that a diorama was put on display in school. She berated me for not having the paper on display as well. I told her that I aced writing classes in college. She wanted to know about the others. There was no encouagment. Only negativity and belittlement. The best example is the difference between mowing the lawn for my mom ("You missed a spot!" "Where did I miss?" "Over there!") and my Dad ("Lawn looks good, buddy."). I missed every spot even the ones that didn't exist.

The only interaction I would have with her would be when she was screaming at me to do stuff, telling me to do stuff at 8am which I promptly forgot when I fell back asleep, saying that she wanted the communication whenever I suggested that she should write me a list because I'd forget when I fell asleep, getting a pot of water tossed on me (and the mattress ruined) when I told her I didn't feel like getting yelled at, seeing her sitting on the toilet, smoking a cigaratte, panties around her ankles, letting the dog drink from the tub, seeing her never close the door when getting ready for work, having her smile and act nicely to me whenever she wanted something from me (usually to get her meds from the pharmacy because she was embarassed) [it took me months and years and maybe not 100% over it to realize that when someone smiled at me it didn't mean that they were trying to extract value from me], saying "I love you" but really meaning "I hope you don't make it home tonight" so the words lost all meaning, getting swung at when the emotional and physical abuse wasn't having the desired effect, having a police report filed (no charges) when I had to physically restrain her just to get out of the house and over to my friend's house to get away from her [I seem to recall noticing that I would have to hurt her to protect myself during her earlier drunken escapades], getting that police report thrown in my face whenever she felt like it [like when I took home a medal in college karate. I stopped going to karate and I enjoyed it], dealing with her inconsistant rages, depressions and sort of normalcies so that telling her one thing would be okay at night and leading to getting sceamed at in the morning. Eventually, I became so completely numb and dead weight that when I got fired from a minor job because of a miscommunication (my fault for not writing my schedule down and being poor at communicating) that she started screaming at me for losing the job. I did only and exactly what she told me to do regarding the job search [I started the night before]. She placed her hands around my throat and tensed them. She didn't squeeze. I don't know if I would have fought back.

This isn't to say I wasn't a petulent little brat. Of course I was. That is how I was "raised." I know I engaged in behaviors to help me survive. I know I never learned pro-social behaviors. I didn't really have a chance.

After mom put her hands around my neck she called my aunt for backup. My mom did that whenever she needed a hand. My aunt was right there to help her. She didn't act as mediator or arbiter. She took mom's side and, because I was the child, I was wrong. The only person who would have protected me and looked out for me was my Dad and my mom had so thoroughly convinced me that he was the most awful person on the planet that I didn't get in touch with him until college and that was only because his number was on a webpage. I remember crying in my car because that was the only place I could talk freely.

All my aunt did was think I was greedy (I got boxes of cards from mom instead of packs which the other kids got, and I made the unpardonable sin of saying I wanted all of the McDonald's X-men toys at my elementary school graduation) [I am convinced that my mother could only show her love and affection through material means.], chide me for behavior issues (she worked with special needs kids and never put my bad behavior together with my lovely home life, or she chose not to see it) and contributed to the Lie of Normalcy. That is the when my mom and my aunt convinced me that my life was normal, standard, everyone has it. Yes, all the abuse, neglect and misery was normal. It was normal for me because that's all I hqd and all I knew. This is your life. It is normal. Being abused is normal. Being manipulated is normal. Your life is normal. Who's coming over for Thanksgiving?

As a small aside, there was extreme isolation as I never wanted to bring people home to see my mom walking around with only a nightshirt which barely covered her panties. My family was belitted and demeaned. I can see the icey hatred in mom's eyes. The same thing happened with friends. Mom taught me that image was more important than substance and you better be as perfect as your image. That also means that the answer to "are you okay?" is always "yes" regardless as to whether or not you just spent 44 minutes deciding whether or not to whip your car off of the freeway. Every time I went to her for help I wound up having myself or my problems belittled by her. Eventually, you just stop. You stop reaching out for help. You stop trusting. You stop letting people in. You react viciously when someone gets too close. You live in a state of living death wondering if it's real or if you're just a phantasm drifting through the lives of the real people.

While touched on briefly elsewhere mom had codependent and spousification tendencies. So, she sabotaged my attempts at independence to keep me enthralled to her while simultaneously projecting spousal roles (man of the house, etc.) onto me. I had no training in that regard. I had no contact with my family. Mom made sure to villify and cut them out of my life and convince me that they're evil people. One of my biggest regrets is that I didn't see my grandmother before she died because my mind was so polluted against her. She wanted to see me before she died and I wouldn't see her. My Dad can forgive me because I "had my reasons." I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. I miss my grandma.

I am here because of 26 years of everything above smashed into the true me. That is the strong, competent person that I am now (moreso anyway). I see who and what I could have been if I had a functional life. I'm cycling through periods of rage and sadness. I absolutely adore collapsing on the floor when I get home, my body in a singular emotional contraction, for 15 minutes at a clip. I love getting a little better and getting smashed in the teeth with the realization that this could have been me the entire time. I lovw the fact that the drugs no longer work because the Prozac and Adderall have antagonistic properties. I love the fact that I have no hopes or dreams or plans for the future. They were either beaten out of me or dismissed. People say to visualize what you want out of life. I love that there isn't anything there.

The only constant thing I've wanted for the past 2 decades is death. In high school I took like 16 Advil and fell asleep. My friend came over later, woke me up and we did stuff. A few years later when I flunked out of college (mom's encouragement was "you won't be here next year" and "you don't know how to work" and "worthless" when I flunked out). I was working at a summer job between semesters. I took a whole bunch of stuff from the medicine cabinet. All OTC like Advil, Nyquil, etc. I remember waking up in the middle of the nightand vomiting blue specks into the toilet. In college I took Adderall and did double shots until I blacked out and wound up in detox. I woke up elated that I almost died. That didn't last too long. A couple years ago I went to go see a show. Had some Adderall and drinks. Went to a strip club. Maxed out my credit card, did coke and champagne with the strippers (they offered) until I blacked out. I only made it home because of the kindness of a taxi driver. Great guy. I sometimes wish he let me feeze to death on the streets.

I look back and I see the only thing that I wanted was death. I look forward and I see a void. I'm here trying to figure out whether life and the effort I'd have to put into it is actually worth it considering that my life is half over and whatever I do manage to get will be less than what I could have gotten if I had a functional life.

CtB is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. The temporary problem is life.

Thank you for taking the time to read or briefly skim this. For much of this stuff it is the first time I ever admitted and stated it in public. That's a step in a direction.

i cant write too much as I am v.tired but all I will say-aside fom jezuz yr mother is an a-whole and needs help! (mine was v.mentally abusive also, in a different way) ...but you sound pretty damn intelligent, emotionally & generally, yr self aware & perceptive, you know you could have thrived under different circumstances! & you could have- I know you feel like your life has been full of pain (which it has been) but there is something about the way you write makes me feel like you can say f**k you to her and all that she did! & go on to do all that you wanted to do - if she hadnt knocked yr confidence all that time! - yr still pretty young- I dont think yr life is half over! You've got a fire in you! u gotta get back to karate for sure- oh also - two things- can you see yr dad now or where is he? & try (though I appreciaate it will be tough) to NOT let yr experience with yr mom taint how u view girls and women in general- its v.common that early parental experience can effect later romantic relationships (for me for sure) but loads of people go on to have lovely and fufilling relationships later on when they find the right person-someone they can trust. I'd like to slap yr mother truth be told- she did not deserve you! she failed you on many levels...i'm sorry...but you have life ahead for sure!! & there are so many things to be experienced, places to go , people to meet etc....I dont know why yr post has struck me-but I feel like you can still have great life stuff ahead u dont even know yet - and weirdly your experiences could be even more enjoyable and more rewarding due to yr appreciation of them- due to the adversities you have oversome...if that makes sense...I think it is a great start you have shared this stuff and got it out there....yr only 26! loads of time to still have good times and a future, f**k that selfish women. Ha i said cant write that much -and then wrote quite alot!

 

[gingerplum]

Wow. Reading your post really affected me deeply, on a number of levels.

Probably the most obvious is how bright you are, in spite of how disadvantaged you've been. Your writing is natural, expressive, and very effective; you convey the feelings of your experiences. Your voice is fluent and articulate, and you have a phenomenal command of vocabulary and grammar. It's such a pleasure to see intelligence like yours shine through in writing.

What struck me next is the sadness you feel from your mother's neglect and abuse; not just the disappointment, but how you learned to cope with it. What's less obvious and so much more distressing to me is how acutely you felt deprived of her love, even though you seem to have developed an awareness of her grievously limited emotional range. You needed support, protection, and love, and the only person you had wasn't capable of providing that for you. Even aside from the overt abuse, she failed you at the most fundamental levels.

My son is 19. When he was born it felt unnatural to leave him alone, so I brought him to bed with me. He wanted me to stay with him, and sometimes even when he was as old as 7, he would fall asleep with me rubbing his back. I can almost relate to your mother's need to feel that physical closeness to her boy, but no matter how lonely I was, or disinhibited by alcohol, I can't imagine something as utterly inappropriate as forcing myself into my teenage son's bed. I honestly feel sorry for her, too, because that speaks to her total lack of awareness and understanding of how such an intrusive and unwelcome act would mortify any young man.

You mother sounds profoundly disturbed, and totally unequipped to care for herself, much less a child. I'm just so sorry that your childhood was spent trying to avoid your only parent and not incur her wrath. You describe yourself as a 'petulant brat', but frankly? I'm just amazed that you weren't some kind of animal-torturing arsonist, considering what you endured. Just the fact that you now recognize how your behavior wasn't normal speaks so positively to your own insight and awareness.

You deserved so much better.

I'm not a huge fan of therapy, but if there were ever an ideal candidate for psychological tools and treatment, it's you. You already have such a thorough self-awareness, I just think the right therapist could really help you with your perspective and coping skills. Not to mention you're describing PTSD, which no one should have to try to manage on their own. A skilled counselor could help you find your way back from being totally demoralized as you were.

It really hurts my heart that you're so hopeless and nihilistic now, especially when it's so obvious you have tremendous potential. Whether or not any of this resonates with you or feels helpful in any way, I hope you feel welcomed here, and at least somewhat understood. This community will empathize with you and root for you. I hope it felt cathartic to share.

PM me anytime if you want to chat or even vent, I'd enjoy hearing from you.

 

[MaybeMaybeKnot]

You've endured such complex trauma that it has probably altered the wiring in your brain. I understand your desire to ctb, but gingerplum is right, there are things you can try, and perhaps you already have. I'm sorry that you've had to endure this.

 

[WhiteDespair]

Thank you for the likes and responses. They're appreciated.

i cant write too much as I am v.tired but all I will say-aside fom jezuz yr mother is an a-whole and needs help! (mine was v.mentally abusive also, in a different way) ...but you sound pretty damn intelligent, emotionally & generally, yr self aware & perceptive, you know you could have thrived under different circumstances! & you could have- I know you feel like your life has been full of pain (which it has been) but there is something about the way you write makes me feel like you can say f**k you to her and all that she did! & go on to do all that you wanted to do - if she hadnt knocked yr confidence all that time! - yr still pretty young- I dont think yr life is half over! You've got a fire in you! u gotta get back to karate for sure- oh also - two things- can you see yr dad now or where is he? & try (though I appreciaate it will be tough) to NOT let yr experience with yr mom taint how u view girls and women in general- its v.common that early parental experience can effect later romantic relationships (for me for sure) but loads of people go on to have lovely and fufilling relationships later on when they find the right person-someone they can trust. I'd like to slap yr mother truth be told- she did not deserve you! she failed you on many levels...i'm sorry...but you have life ahead for sure!! & there are so many things to be experienced, places to go , people to meet etc....I dont know why yr post has struck me-but I feel like you can still have great life stuff ahead u dont even know yet - and weirdly your experiences could be even more enjoyable and more rewarding due to yr appreciation of them- due to the adversities you have oversome...if that makes sense...I think it is a great start you have shared this stuff and got it out there....yr only 26! loads of time to still have good times and a future, f**k that selfish women. Ha i said cant write that much -and then wrote quite alot!

I was racing Ambien yesterday and didn't fully specify some things. My mom CtB a decade ago. I'm 35 years old. The average lifespan is 80 years. So, 26 years + 10 years = 35 (give or take). Thank you for the post and encouragement. A lot of that came in the last 2 years. My Dad lives out of state. I'm planning on visiting when airplane tickets decrease in price. The more I learn the more I can empathize and understand my mother. You are right about relationships. They're tough since I have to be aware of and fight against my initial responses.

Wow. Reading your post really affected me deeply, on a number of levels.

Probably the most obvious is how bright you are, in spite of how disadvantaged you've been. Your writing is natural, expressive, and very effective; you convey the feelings of your experiences. Your voice is fluent and articulate, and you have a phenomenal command of vocabulary and grammar. It's such a pleasure to see intelligence like yours shine through in writing.

What struck me next is the sadness you feel from your mother's neglect and abuse; not just the disappointment, but how you learned to cope with it. What's less obvious and so much more distressing to me is how acutely you felt deprived of her love, even though you seem to have developed an awareness of her grievously limited emotional range. You needed support, protection, and love, and the only person you had wasn't capable of providing that for you. Even aside from the overt abuse, she failed you at the most fundamental levels.

My son is 19. When he was born it felt unnatural to leave him alone, so I brought him to bed with me. He wanted me to stay with him, and sometimes even when he was as old as 7, he would fall asleep with me rubbing his back. I can almost relate to your mother's need to feel that physical closeness to her boy, but no matter how lonely I was, or disinhibited by alcohol, I can't imagine something as utterly inappropriate as forcing myself into my teenage son's bed. I honestly feel sorry for her, too, because that speaks to her total lack of awareness and understanding of how such an intrusive and unwelcome act would mortify any young man.

You mother sounds profoundly disturbed, and totally unequipped to care for herself, much less a child. I'm just so sorry that your childhood was spent trying to avoid your only parent and not incur her wrath. You describe yourself as a 'petulant brat', but frankly? I'm just amazed that you weren't some kind of animal-torturing arsonist, considering what you endured. Just the fact that you now recognize how your behavior wasn't normal speaks so positively to your own insight and awareness.

You deserved so much better.

I'm not a huge fan of therapy, but if there were ever an ideal candidate for psychological tools and treatment, it's you. You already have such a thorough self-awareness, I just think the right therapist could really help you with your perspective and coping skills. Not to mention you're describing PTSD, which no one should have to try to manage on their own. A skilled counselor could help you find your way back from being totally demoralized as you were.

It really hurts my heart that you're so hopeless and nihilistic now, especially when it's so obvious you have tremendous potential. Whether or not any of this resonates with you or feels helpful in any way, I hope you feel welcomed here, and at least somewhat understood. This community will empathize with you and root for you. I hope it felt cathartic to share.

PM me anytime if you want to chat or even vent, I'd enjoy hearing from you.

Thank you. I did get a degree in writing even though I never really followed through or maintained consistency. The discovery of things that I am lacking, as if fundamental pieces of my soul, is unpleasant. It's a combination of the hollowness of missing a part of yourself with the knowledge that those pieces may never be complete or even possible to develop. I can see in other people things I may never know and never understand. Thank you for your insight as a mother. I'm sure that even teenagers want some closeness with their mothers. My mother experienced abuse as well, had no one else in her life except her sister (whose culpability I increasingly grow suspect) and, when my Dad was forced out of my life, I believe she lost out on the love of her life and her only other area of support. She definitely needed support and, I figure, she would have been better off with a dog than a son. In the scope of things, I did get off pretty well. I'm not an animal torturing arsonist and I avoided many pitfalls. I was legitimately so very, very close to being a diesel shooting junkie. I've been in therapy for about 2 to 3 years and 6 months on Prozac and Adderall. You're the second person who suggested PTSD. It's kind of been a year of hell even though I developed a lot of that insight, etc. I am glad I found SS. Yes, there was a bit if catharsis.

You've endured such complex trauma that it has probably altered the wiring in your brain. I understand your desire to ctb, but gingerplum is right, there are things you can try, and perhaps you already have. I'm sorry that you've had to endure this.

Thank you. You are likely correct. At this point I may be on psych meds for the rest of my life as everything is burned in an neuroplasticity only goes so far. I havedn't decided whether to CtB or not. I am very grateful that this is a place where I can explore it. There aren't too many places where the answer to "How was your day?" can honestly be "Trying to figure out if I want to go home, toss some Ambien into a spice grinder, have a couple of drinks and zip tie a trash bag over my head."