Wow, I'm getting a bit anxious just by thinking about what to write here. So...I'm just going to start. I'm a college student who, within the last few months, has come to the conclusion that I have CPTSD, or at least, that it's extremely likely I do. It's something I've put a lot of thought into. Looking back at my childhood, it took me a while to realize how traumatizing it had been.
My dad always had serious temperament issues. I can't really remember anything from my early childhood, but I know he'd sometimes get angry with me (I'm ADHD as well, so that probably didn't help) and would use physical force as a form of punishment. For the first few years of my life, my family was fairly well-off. We lived in a nice house in a small town, and both my parents were employed in high-paying jobs. The early-2000's recession hit them hard though. They had to sell our house, and we moved to a rental in another nearby town. It was still a nice house, and we lived there for several years, but we were struggling financially.
(With how often I get these verification letter entry things wrong, I may just be a robot.)
Eventually we lost that house too, and moved into an apartment in yet another town. One of the earlier memories I have of that time was when I'd lost my favorite stuffed animal, a racoon I'd named Rocky that was really close to my heart. I was devastated. We stayed there for several months, and I was still young enough to be fairly oblivious to our situation. My parents frequently argued though, and on my eighth birthday, things got bad. My mom and dad had gotten into another argument. My dad's anger was out of control, though my mom knew how to handle him while he was like that. I didn't know what they were arguing about. All I can remember is that I somehow ended up hiding under my bed. I can't remember if I'd been there the whole time, or if I'd gone there when my dad came in the room. Either way, he pulled me out from under the bed, raised me above his head, and started telling me he was going to throw me out of the window, while walking toward it. My older sister ran to his leg and screamed at him to put me down, which he did after several seconds. Whether I would be alive still if she hadn't been there is a mystery to me. After that, he quickly left the room, and continued arguing with my mom. Eventually, he got angry enough that he hit her, something he'd never done before. That was where my mom had had enough. She gathered my brother and sister and I, and we fled over a hundred miles to my grandma's house.
I saw my father one more time that night though. We were all in the car, getting ready to drive off, when my mom realized she'd forgotten our medications (ADHD meds for my brother and I, which we both were), so she had me go up to get them. I hadn't told her about what had happened with me, and I still hadn't until a couple years ago. I went, and found my dad sitting on a chair with the lights off. I clearly remember how broken he looked. He said hi to me, and knowing he couldn't stop my mom from leaving with us, let me get the medications. As a goodbye gift, he gave me two two-dollar bills. I didn't see him again for well over year.
It was at that point that the worst part of my life began. It's worth mentioning that my mother did love us, and provided for us physically. But she wasn't there for us emotionally, and after what I, and my siblings, had been through, that affected us greatly. I pretty much closed myself off entirely. I went to a local public school, but I never really had any friends. My siblings and I were constantly at each other's throats, and our mom did little to intervene. Again, she loved us, but with two highly-ADHD boys and my sister, who was angry over the separation and often took it out on us, she couldn't take the stress. I spent my the vast majority of my time on the computer playing games. Looking back, it's obvious I was subconsciously trying to escape reality. That's still the case now.
In middle school, I made some friends for the first time. I got along with them well enough, but I never saw them outside of school. I didn't care though. High school came, and I definitely remember being a horny little *. I never acted on those impulses though, despite my ADHD, but those types of thoughts were constantly in my head. I really began mature past sophomore year, transforming radically. I'd had severe anger issues my whole life just like my dad. Between sophomore year and now though, I learned to control my anger. (By this point, I've mastered controlling my anger, and am able to keep my other emotions from showing.) My biggest issue, though, was depression. Despite the small group of friends I had, I still felt like an outcast, which I was. My friends...weren't the best. I was okay with a few of them, but a few of them teased me constantly. I did have other "friends" in some of my classes, but not really. It was around this time that I realized how lonely the walls I'd built around myself had made me. My group of friends merged with another group, primarily girls, in junior year. I never got close with any of them either though. Senior year was better. I made a few other friends in a couple of my classes, though I still hung out with my usual group. I drifted away from them more and more as time went on, though I never left.
I'd become obsessed with finding a romantic relationship by junior year. There have been several girls I've liked, and one in particular I really liked. I knew her from one of my classes in junior year, though we didn't interact much then, mostly because I was incredibly shy, and was dragged down by low-self esteem. I'm not unattractive, quite the opposite apparently, but it took me a while to allow myself to accept that. I thought she was the cutest girl in the world, and her personality appealed to me as well. She was fairly shy, and having moved to our school in junior year, didn't have many friends. I had her in another class senior year, by which I'd gained a fair amount of self-esteem and confidence, and was continuing to gain. We chatted for several months, and I joined a club she was a part of (A health career club, which is my current career and study path) after hearing about it from her. I eventually asked her out, but I ended up getting rejected, which bummed me out greatly. She was kind about it though, and we continued chatting in class past that. In hindsight, she barely knew me outside of class. I still liked her though, and it showed. After a while, I suspected I was making her uncomfortable as a result, which I confirmed shortly later. Knowing I wouldn't be able to get rid of my feelings for her, I distanced myself from her. We went separate ways after graduation (She's several thousand miles away now), and haven't spoken since, since I'd never asked for her number or social media. To say I'm bummed out things didn't work out is an understatement of epic proportions.
Now, I'm living in a different city where the college I'm attending is, which is only about twenty miles away. I've spent pretty much the whole summer by myself, which, while it has given me a lot of time to think and do what I want, has exacerbated my feelings of isolation. I did start a summer class (It's a health-related class worth four credits.) recently, where I've interacted with people somewhat, but I'm struggling. I've been frustrated with how my life has gone, depressed, and anxious. There are times where I disassociate to the point that I feel more like a ghost. I guess I'm making an attempt to reach out with this. In any case, I think I've rambled on long enough. If you've read up to this point, thank you. It was good to get that off my chest, even if no one reads it. I don't know if I'll be active on here much, but for now, thanks again for listening.
My dad always had serious temperament issues. I can't really remember anything from my early childhood, but I know he'd sometimes get angry with me (I'm ADHD as well, so that probably didn't help) and would use physical force as a form of punishment. For the first few years of my life, my family was fairly well-off. We lived in a nice house in a small town, and both my parents were employed in high-paying jobs. The early-2000's recession hit them hard though. They had to sell our house, and we moved to a rental in another nearby town. It was still a nice house, and we lived there for several years, but we were struggling financially.
(With how often I get these verification letter entry things wrong, I may just be a robot.)
Eventually we lost that house too, and moved into an apartment in yet another town. One of the earlier memories I have of that time was when I'd lost my favorite stuffed animal, a racoon I'd named Rocky that was really close to my heart. I was devastated. We stayed there for several months, and I was still young enough to be fairly oblivious to our situation. My parents frequently argued though, and on my eighth birthday, things got bad. My mom and dad had gotten into another argument. My dad's anger was out of control, though my mom knew how to handle him while he was like that. I didn't know what they were arguing about. All I can remember is that I somehow ended up hiding under my bed. I can't remember if I'd been there the whole time, or if I'd gone there when my dad came in the room. Either way, he pulled me out from under the bed, raised me above his head, and started telling me he was going to throw me out of the window, while walking toward it. My older sister ran to his leg and screamed at him to put me down, which he did after several seconds. Whether I would be alive still if she hadn't been there is a mystery to me. After that, he quickly left the room, and continued arguing with my mom. Eventually, he got angry enough that he hit her, something he'd never done before. That was where my mom had had enough. She gathered my brother and sister and I, and we fled over a hundred miles to my grandma's house.
I saw my father one more time that night though. We were all in the car, getting ready to drive off, when my mom realized she'd forgotten our medications (ADHD meds for my brother and I, which we both were), so she had me go up to get them. I hadn't told her about what had happened with me, and I still hadn't until a couple years ago. I went, and found my dad sitting on a chair with the lights off. I clearly remember how broken he looked. He said hi to me, and knowing he couldn't stop my mom from leaving with us, let me get the medications. As a goodbye gift, he gave me two two-dollar bills. I didn't see him again for well over year.
It was at that point that the worst part of my life began. It's worth mentioning that my mother did love us, and provided for us physically. But she wasn't there for us emotionally, and after what I, and my siblings, had been through, that affected us greatly. I pretty much closed myself off entirely. I went to a local public school, but I never really had any friends. My siblings and I were constantly at each other's throats, and our mom did little to intervene. Again, she loved us, but with two highly-ADHD boys and my sister, who was angry over the separation and often took it out on us, she couldn't take the stress. I spent my the vast majority of my time on the computer playing games. Looking back, it's obvious I was subconsciously trying to escape reality. That's still the case now.
In middle school, I made some friends for the first time. I got along with them well enough, but I never saw them outside of school. I didn't care though. High school came, and I definitely remember being a horny little *. I never acted on those impulses though, despite my ADHD, but those types of thoughts were constantly in my head. I really began mature past sophomore year, transforming radically. I'd had severe anger issues my whole life just like my dad. Between sophomore year and now though, I learned to control my anger. (By this point, I've mastered controlling my anger, and am able to keep my other emotions from showing.) My biggest issue, though, was depression. Despite the small group of friends I had, I still felt like an outcast, which I was. My friends...weren't the best. I was okay with a few of them, but a few of them teased me constantly. I did have other "friends" in some of my classes, but not really. It was around this time that I realized how lonely the walls I'd built around myself had made me. My group of friends merged with another group, primarily girls, in junior year. I never got close with any of them either though. Senior year was better. I made a few other friends in a couple of my classes, though I still hung out with my usual group. I drifted away from them more and more as time went on, though I never left.
I'd become obsessed with finding a romantic relationship by junior year. There have been several girls I've liked, and one in particular I really liked. I knew her from one of my classes in junior year, though we didn't interact much then, mostly because I was incredibly shy, and was dragged down by low-self esteem. I'm not unattractive, quite the opposite apparently, but it took me a while to allow myself to accept that. I thought she was the cutest girl in the world, and her personality appealed to me as well. She was fairly shy, and having moved to our school in junior year, didn't have many friends. I had her in another class senior year, by which I'd gained a fair amount of self-esteem and confidence, and was continuing to gain. We chatted for several months, and I joined a club she was a part of (A health career club, which is my current career and study path) after hearing about it from her. I eventually asked her out, but I ended up getting rejected, which bummed me out greatly. She was kind about it though, and we continued chatting in class past that. In hindsight, she barely knew me outside of class. I still liked her though, and it showed. After a while, I suspected I was making her uncomfortable as a result, which I confirmed shortly later. Knowing I wouldn't be able to get rid of my feelings for her, I distanced myself from her. We went separate ways after graduation (She's several thousand miles away now), and haven't spoken since, since I'd never asked for her number or social media. To say I'm bummed out things didn't work out is an understatement of epic proportions.
Now, I'm living in a different city where the college I'm attending is, which is only about twenty miles away. I've spent pretty much the whole summer by myself, which, while it has given me a lot of time to think and do what I want, has exacerbated my feelings of isolation. I did start a summer class (It's a health-related class worth four credits.) recently, where I've interacted with people somewhat, but I'm struggling. I've been frustrated with how my life has gone, depressed, and anxious. There are times where I disassociate to the point that I feel more like a ghost. I guess I'm making an attempt to reach out with this. In any case, I think I've rambled on long enough. If you've read up to this point, thank you. It was good to get that off my chest, even if no one reads it. I don't know if I'll be active on here much, but for now, thanks again for listening.