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I have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
I do not have many memories of my childhood, they are blocked out of my mind. In fact, so many years are missing, I feel like the part of brain that holds memories is like swiss cheese.
My abuse is physical, sexual, mental and spiritual in nature.
My dad was an alcoholic, and I know we lived in Chicago, IL. for about 3-4 years. My mom, dad, sisters and then my brother all had shared the one bedroom, that left me, the oldest, in the living room on a bed behind a small tv set.
My nightmare probably began way before my memory of being 4 years old and my dad being drunk came home and sat beside, telling me what a horrible mean mother I had and he was going to take me away from her, and he began stroking my arm. I then dissociated the rest for all I remember is the moon becoming a train light, but, living in a basement apartment, how could I see the moon?
I have been in therapy, and on antidepressants for a long time, but I still have walls I put up. For my dad was not the only abuser. A cousin, 4 rapes, and domestic violence left it's toll on me. Where I once trusted everyone, by the age of 35, I began to trust very few.
I have a problem with loud voices, they scare me, especially a man's. It is hard to keep myself calm when hearing them. I have places I cannot be touched and have trouble hugging, and that was hard as my children grew up. I had no problem when they were small, but around 3-4 I started having problems. At that time I had no idea why, I am just now seeing it as I write this.
My mom was blind and oblivious to everything, she cleaned constantly, and I was hit more than once for disturbing her while she cleaned. She was really verbally abusive and her words all but killed me. For I attempted suicide twice and was on a 36 hour watch the last time I wanted to. Her words so sent me over the edge I just felt like I was worth nothing. I was in my 40's at the time: It was just after a viewing of my step dad, whom to me was more like a father than my biological father was. My sisters asked my opinion of some outdated 2 year barbecue sauce they were using in the sloppy joe mix, I thought it was not safe to use so when my mom came in they told her what I said, that was shocking enough, but what followed next was so worse off. My mom started telling me how selfish I was, I thought nothing of anyone else but me, how I was wrecking her day, and how I also ruined
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Understanding the impact of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)
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