travelingtheroadhome

[travelingtheroadhome]

My stepmother said that the open-heart surgery my brother had when he was a baby had been a waste of money, because his life would never amount to anything. She said that nonchalantly in front of everyone while we were in the car. I think we were just going grocery shopping. My brother wasn’t with us at the time. But... my dad just... agreed with her.  My brother was born with a hole in his heart, and it was a while till he could have surgery. My mom has home videos of him playing, and then starting to cry because his chest would hurt. And my mom had to be strong and comfort him even though she was terrified he would die during those episodes.  How could anyone say that a successful heart surgery that saved my brother’s life was a waste of money?  How cruel and heartless does someone have to be to say something like that? 

#c-ptsd #childhood abuse survivor #narcissistic parents #trauma #emotional trauma

[travelingtheroadhome]

My biological dad had bought a pet ball python for his own amusement. After a year or so of having it, he decided he didn’t want to take care of it anymore. I knew that meant he was going to kill it. So, I said I would take care of her. I kept her in my room. I named her Jezebel. 

We lived in the middle of nowhere where there’s no trash pickup. We had a burn barrel for trash. When I came home, my dad handed me the trash and had me burn it. And when I came inside, I saw my terrarium was empty. I went into the living room, my dad was sitting on the couch. 

“Where’s Jezebel?”

“Why don’t you check the burn barrel?”

She had been alive. Oh god, how do I live with this guilt knowing I burned her alive?

#parental abuse #abuse survivor #narcissistic parents #animal abuse

[travelingtheroadhome]

A couple years ago I lost sixty pounds, and I thought it was really strange, because I went from a size 18/16 to a size 10/8, and I thought I looked exactly the same. Right now, I’m back to that 18/16 because I thought, “What’s the point? I’m so tired of thinking of food.” But even trying out “body acceptance” and trying not to think about it, I find I am still hyper-fixating on food. 

I learned there’s a word for what I had/have: body dysmorphia. I started having it when I was in middle school. I remember looking in the mirror at night and crying because my face didn’t look like mine. I don’t know what causes it, but that still happens sometimes. I also think sometimes my body looks very small and petite. And others it looks large. It can happen within the same day. It’s kinda bizarre if I think about it. 

I go through cycles of restricting and binging. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t break a restriction period without getting sick. My last restriction period was during finals and it was pretty scary, but at the same time, I love restriction periods because I’m not binging, and binging is the worst. 

When I binge it usually starts with an intense craving for a specific food, and if I try to ignore it or eat something else, the binge will be worse later that day. I run up credit cards during binges. I force myself to eat and eat and eat because if I don’t, I’ll obsess about it. It’s all I can think about. I guess the closest thing I can compare it to is a migraine? Regardless, I feel like my body is out of control.

#body dysmorphia #binge #ed

[travelingtheroadhome]

“Long-term exposure to trauma in which a victim has limited belief it will ever end.”

This hit me hard. When I have suicidal thoughts, that is what repeats in my mind: “This will never end. It will never end. I will never stop feeling shame. I will never feel okay.”

I have intense feelings of shame and embarrassment that are so strong that I honestly believe I will never feel peace until I am dead. Seeing this makes me feel like...perhaps the shame is just a symptom of something else. And that makes me feel hopeful. Maybe there really is nothing inherently shameful about me. 

This makes me feel really excited. Can I really have a happy, fulfilling life free of shame?

#c-ptsd #abuse survivor #childhood abuse survivor #the road home

[travelingtheroadhome]

I’m very conflicted about this blog. Writing about the abuse I’ve witnessed or experienced feels like picking glass out of a wound. Picking at it reopens it when I want to leave it alone. I’m not sure what the right thing to do is. Who am I to talk about it when others have it worse than I did? 

I want to share my story because it’s not unique. It took me a long time to accept what happened to me was abuse. I thought, “My parents love me- they may be unfair sometimes, but they still love me. What’s happening to me is my fault. I deserve this.” 

To anyone who needs to hear it: Anyone can be abusive. No one deserves to be abused. Everyone has the right to feel safe and loved. If you suspect you are being abused get out. Get out as soon as you can and never look back. It’s not easy, but if someone violates your right to a safe, peaceful life, then they have lost the privilege to be apart of it.  

#abuse survivor #survivor #the road home #narcissistic parents

[travelingtheroadhome]

My boyfriend said I was, “A little badass. Just a little bit.” I don’t know why, but that compliment really got to me, haha. 

There were so many times that I wanted to give up. I remembered yesterday that there was a time when I actively tried to ruin my life- I sought out hard drugs and tried to get pregnant. I was in full self-sabotage mode. 

There was no “turning point” for me. Nothing happened that gave me an attitude adjustment. I just wanted to be the first one in my family to ever graduate college. And I did. Now I want to be the first to get my Master’s degree, and I am. Then... perhaps later in life, I want to be the first to obtain a Ph.D. I may want to give up sometimes, but I can’t. I can never, ever, ever, ever give up.

#ramblings #clean four years #never give up #never give in

[travelingtheroadhome]

I found a journal entry I had written back in my undergrad. I wrote that I used to piss in a jar because I was afraid of leaving my bedroom. I only faintly remember doing that.

I do, however, remember my step-mother slamming on my door in the mornings, asking why I had locked my door. Then she made me start leaving the door open at all times.

#narcissistic parents #parental abuse #abuse story #abuse survivor

[travelingtheroadhome]

I told my mom that I wanted a better relationship with her. I remember, I think maybe it was an illustration on a coaster, or perhaps on the cover of a book. I’m not sure. But it was a mother and daughter sitting in a field of flowers. And I told her that I wanted a relationship like that with her. She looked at me and said, “I can’t give you what my mother never gave me.”

#abuse story #the road home #abuse survivor