Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a mental health condition that’s triggered by a terrifying event — either experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event. Most people who go through traumatic events may have temporary difficulty adjusting and coping, but with time and good self-care, they usually get better. If the symptoms get worse, last for months or even years, and interfere with your day-to-day functioning, you may have PTSD.
I was diagnosed with this in 1995 after I got away from an abusive relationship. I always believed that I was stronger and could stand up for myself. I was raising a child by myself, I graduated college and I had believed I was OK. Boy was I wrong!!!
Truly the abuse started before I ever met the man that terrorized me. As I write this I have to say that my father was a good man and a good father to some of my siblings. He was a conditional man, follow the rules and his expectations and he will love you, but stray from the rules you are “stupid” “why can’t you be like your sister?” “She is on honor role.” “She doesn’t talk back.” “She isn’t on the phone all the time.” I am not saying that my sister was my problem because I love her and yes we had our differences and I did resent her for along time, but it was the constant comparison to her accomplishments that turned me into the freak in the family. I started to behave the way my father hated. However, my savior was my mom. She kept me from imploding and safe from my father’s wrath.
The one time I remember vividly is when I was fighting with my father over something really stupid, the specifics are foggy, however, I told him to fuck himself and that’s when he lunged at me, got me by the throat choking me screaming at me pulling back to punch me in the face. My mother stopped him before he punched me but I had fingerprints on my throat and I couldn’t talk. He was so mad red in the face mouth breathing the whole nine yards and then some.
Abuse is like a having a brand tattooed to your body, the memories are burned into your brain. I am not saying that it will damage a person for life because with help there are ways of overcoming the fear that is associated with this type of violence. It is a long road.
Statistically it is proven that women that lived with abuse tend to find partners that abuse. That is scary to think about, I guess I hadn’t really thought about the relationships I have been in, but I see in each instants I was abused in some way.
My son’s father forgot to mention that he was already married to another woman and had a daughter. He also took advantage of my kindness, my money and my pride. He manipulated me to do what he wanted me to do because I thought I was in love and believed he would so right by me. I ended up raising my son alone. And I moved away with my father to help him after my parent’s divorce and was abused again.
After I moved back to the city after I finished school, I fucked around thinking I would find Mr. Right. NO!!! I found all the Mr. WRONGS!!! Used me for what I could give them and fuck me so I would attribute sex for them living me. I got tired of being used and manipulated, but I still could not see that the abuse was affecting me. I was invincible and strong independent raising this beautiful son.
Then it happened, my curiosity got the best of me. I called a guy I dated in high school for awhile and we went out. Of course we ended up at my apartment and had sex. It was incredible. I thought wow I may have to hit that again. But he had other plans. He moved in. I am not sure how it happened, but he moved in. One date and poof here he is living in my house with me and my son. At first it was OK, he worked during the day and I was a night auditor at a local hotel that was close to home. He would stay with my son when I worked and that saved me on babysitting. WOOHOO, I got a boyfriend.
OK, so I need to stop and breath. The second chapter of this story is really intense and I am going to have to prepare myself. I haven’t talked about this since I really don’t know when so bare with me please. I know that I will try not to bore you with a lot of detail that is not relevant to the situation, but I am going to be graphic because I want “people” to see what really happened to me. Someday there will be better protection.
To be continued………..
Lunatic Fringe Forever…………….
2 thoughts on “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder #1”
I love the fact that you are sharing your story! Thank you for having the courage to share!
Thank-you for being part of my crusade I truly want to make changes to the way ‘people” view mental health.