Somewhat irrational train of thought plaguing me currently.

Post Reply New Topic

There is a reason why I never mentioned to anybody any of the things I lived through when I was growing up.

My abusers generally did not just do whatever they wanted to me. They used persuasion and manipulation and threats to coerce me into doing all sorts of things that I would not normally do. My aunt used to do things like let me drink alcohol, and then coerce me into all sorts of sexually degrading situations while threatening to tell my parents that I drank alcohol at her place. Then they laughed at me and told me it was all my fault because I went along with it.

I guess the point of this post is that I still feel like whatever happened to me was my own fault, even though logic tells me that it most definitely is not.

I know, I was a child, I did not know any better.

I was everybody's punching bag when I was growing up. I could not walk down the hallways of my middle and high school five feet without somebody shoving or punching me. I was sexually violated by classmates in the restroom a couple of times. I said nothing about this to anybody, since the teachers in the public schools let the other kids cover me with bruises right in front of them.

I spent a couple of years in a special ed school where nobody bullied me and the staff knew how to talk me out of my meltdowns. Yet my mother insisted that no son of hers was going to be a special ed student, and she insisted that I belonged in public schools. Thanks a lot. The public school district did not want to deal with me and my meltdowns (I was never violent, but it still scared them nonetheless), so they insisted in placing me in school programs that were designed for students with legal issues (primarily gang members), even though I had no criminal record (and I still have no criminal record to this day - haven't done anything that would earn me one). I was bullied and beaten in those classrooms while the teachers watched and told me that it was all my fault for being such an easy target.

And I grieve every day the loss of any chance I could have had at a normal and healthy childhood. My childhood was a nonstop string of beatings and humiliations, and I had nobody that I could possibly turn to at that time.

At that time, key words. There are people I can turn to today, of course.

Why do I drink? Why do I spend my money on material things that I do not need? Why do I look at pictures on adult websites obsessively?

There is a hole in my soul, a sense of vast emptiness, a feeling that I am utterly incomplete as a human being. And I do not know how to deal with any of that. So I try to medicate, to drown my sorrows temporarily. None of these tactics have ever worked, yet I stick with them. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results, and I am quite insane if that is the true definition of the word.

I see my therapist tomorrow. No more alcohol in the house. No more money to spend on things I do not need. No real desire to engage in any addictive behavior at the present moment. I feel a sense of strong resolve to do what I need to do to claw my way out of this pit I have dug for myself over the past two decades. I feel a sense of drive to be productive, to do what it right for me. I sense of urgency, like this is the first evening of the rest of my life, like I cannot procrastinate on my recovery any longer, like it truly is time for me to stop f*****g around with what needs to be done so that I could just work through it all.

Maybe you need to find something bigger than yourself to believe in. Religion would work, but so much of what's out there is just as abusive and dysfunctional as your "family". At least you're willing to take the first step on a journey of a million miles.

Everything makes sense in the post except the last part, where you self denigrate. Don't you see that you must stop doing that as your very first step to recovery?
Because that's what I see.