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smalleiers

smalleiers

Your local nutty politics guy
Mar 18, 2024
53
TW:CSA, Abuse


It all began in a hospital in western Austria.
Born to a mother who comes from an abusive drug-abusing household and a father who comes from an abusive alcoholic household,. We were homeless and nearly homeless for quite some time up until I was turning 2 years old. My father was absent as he was working all the time and drunk; my mom was staying at home but spent most of her time smoking weed and raising my brother and me. She was unsatisfied that her plan to save the marriage by having a second child didn't come to fruition, so she cheated, which resulted in my father abandoning the family at 3 and moving 5 hours away into the capital city.

As Hildegard Knef would say, "Von nun an ging's bergab." We were homeless for 2 weeks before mom managed to get council estate housing for us, moving into something that more resembled barracks instead of apartments. They were originally built during Nazi times to house South Tyrolean people who remigrated into Austria in accordance with a deal made by Mussolini and Hitler. There was mould in the bathroom, and my mother bought out the old furniture from relatives of the lady who died there. My dad didn't pay a whole lot of alimony, and my mother had to sustain her habits, so she took some business advice from my grandma and started selling drugs too while working part time as a cleaner in a hospital to hold up appearances. This resulted in a lot of shady people being around us all the time, especially her "friends," and there were times where she was gone for days on end, simply leaving my brother and I alone at home at ages 5–12 and 9–16.
There were times where she forgot or simply didn't have money to leave for us while she was gone, and it was our friends parents that ended up feeding us at that time. When my mother was home, it was not much better; she would invite people she met in online chatrooms to live with us and mostly neglect us. It came to a drastic end when my brother, at 14, gave her an earful about how it's not okay how she treats us and that if she doesn't get better, he will call our version of CPS.
She stopped taking hard drugs soon after that, and we had a huge opportunity for a new start just down the line. I was 12 at that point, and the property owners wanted to tear down the old houses and offered to move us into an apartment building that had just finished construction. I got my own room, albeit the smallest one, and had a good time at school. Teachers started to see potential in me and tutored me in areas way beyond the scope of the curriculum.
However, this was also the time when something truly horrible happened to me.
The daughter of one of my mom's best friends was 9 years older than me, and whenever they would throw big parties, the children would be perched in a small room. During these times, she slowly started to show me pornography and locked me and another girl in the closet, forcing us to fondle each other and kiss. I thought at that time that I was very lucky to have that opportunity to try to protect myself. Over a period of 3 months, it slowly escalated into her touching me, forcing me to go down on her and play with her breasts, and lastly, having intercourse with me. This broke me in places I didn't even know existed. I started randomly throwing up, having crying fits at night, and my grades started tanking, but I never told a soul about what was going on. I even endured it for 2 years more because she would buy me nice things and gaslight me into believing that she was doing me a favour by helping me become a good lover. You may ask yourself why I never told anybody.
I witnessed the SA of a girl in my neighbourhood when I was, I think, ~6 years old, and she talked to the police and her parents. She became known as the rat poison girl because she tried to kill herself eating rat poison after her parents told her it was her fault. Plus, my home life was a huge mess of parentification and emotional incest, so I couldn't allow myself to be weak at any time.

In spite of all of that, puberty forced me to become a strong and independent person. I quit school after failing horribly at math and decided to get a job as a furniture salesman apprentice at a terrible company. I poured my time into my passions in politics and history, trying to create something from nothing. I got my "Matura" during that time of going to school in the evenings. And it worked until around 19.
I have been depressed ever since I can remember. There were times when I tried to drown myself in the bathroom sink as a small child by holding my head under water and hoping to eventually stop breathing. Needless to say, that didn't work. I was working insane hours just to not be home and speedran the path to burnout in a hilarious fashion. I developed insomnia because night was the only time where I could freely be myself and didn't have any obligations, and I became so depressed that I quit my job after experiencing my third boss in the span of a year. My numbers were still great, and we got provisions on sales, so I was used to having a lot of money. I was stupid enough to not save any of it, and the compensation the state gave me instead of it was barely enough to help my mother cover rent.
At this point, I was planning to ctb for the first time. My first relationship fell apart, politics was too big for my shoes, and I just quit my job. There was really nothing left to keep me on this earth but my brother and friends. I spent months in secluded isolation, not leaving the house, only playing video games, reading books, and planning my CTB while my family sat by and watched it all unfold. My friends also held an intervention at one of our gaming sessions, where they told me that I should stop lying so much about how I'm doing and just be open and honest with them. I took this as a personal attack at the time and slowly distanced myself from them too. I came to the conclusion that if I don't have any friends or social contacts, nobody will miss me.


Eventually I settled down on the inert gas method and started gathering everything I needed for it, storing it in the basement, where rarely anyone ever entered. After 3 weeks, I had everything, but my setup was laughable. I had a small balloon helium tank, aquarium pvc tubing, and a primitive exit bag made of a tie-top bin bag with a hole cut into it for the tubing. Everything was taped together with "Panzertape" to prevent potential leakages. In a trial, it wasn't too bad, but I felt a bit lightheaded after taking a few breaths. I planned to do it in October, as that was when I experienced my first SA and my mother's birthday. I wanted to celebrate one last day with her and planned to do it on the 31st, as my brother was invited to a party and my mom was headed to her friend's house.
I sat everything up in my room, thinking that I had the evening to myself, playing my favourite Panic! At the disco album and getting drunk. When it came to actually going through, I remember this peaceful bliss when preparing the mask setup. Then I blacked out. I was awoken by my brother ripping the bag off of my head, screaming at me, and telling me that he knew I was up to something. In hindsight, it wouldn't have worked anyway, but it was enough for him to tell me to give life a chance again. I committed myself to the psych ward 3 days later and spent 6 weeks there, thinking that I was too stupid to kill myself and that I would have to spend all of my years on earth hoping for a quick death. I was given medication and eventually decided to try to make the most of it. I went into social psychiatry rehab and started doing therapy programmes there.
After around a year, my case manager referred me to an assisted living programme where up to four people would live together under the supervision of psychologists, trying to learn to live independently. That was kind of a saving grace as it was quite far away from my home city. I did 4 years in that programme, studying at the start of it but dropping out after a year as it was too much, slowly finding myself again, and even recognising that there are things that I excel at. But I also started doing hard drugs, thanks to my new friends and availability. That stopped after one year when COVID hit. I thought that I was going to get another shot at life and fulfil my potential, at least partially.
I was signed into working rehab at a pottery manufacturer, where I seemingly blended in and became friends with a few people.

I also met the most beautiful person I have ever seen. She checked all of my boxes immediately, and once I got to know her, I was smitten. Over the course of 2 years, we formed a great friendship, bonding over trauma, humour, music, and politics.
From the start of last year until August, we would do the, "Is he/she into me?" Dance, because when we first met, she told me that she was just into girls, and I told her how my last attempt at romance ended. (It was less than four months of courting and ended with me being stalked by her.) I'm not sure if I would have opened myself up like that to her if I ever saw a chance of us being together, and I was content with just being friends. In fact, I was happy about that. But then I started noticing small things; she would "accidentally" graze my shoulder when walking by, always angling her body towards me when sitting, and it finally clicked after she took both of my hands, staring holes through me and saying, "Hey, I think we have very similar eyes; aren't they beautiful?". I still doubt that I asked her to give me a hug when we said goodbye, and it took her a good 15 seconds before letting me go. A few days later, I asked her via text how platonic we are at this point, and she said she didn't know, that this question scared her, and that she didn't want to open doors that she might close. I reassured her that we had time to figure everything out and to not rush into it. Her reply was that people who get too close to her eventually get hurt and destroyed. Oh, how I should have listened. At the same time, I was planning my path out of assisted living and was already planning to kill myself a few months after moving out because life was a lot. My mom developed cervical cancer; her partner got the lung cancer diagnosis a few weeks later; and my brother moved in with his abusive girlfriend to Germany, slowly turning into a horrible person. Therapy also made me clean up my friends by setting boundaries, leaving me with two good friends instead of 10.
So this relationship kind of kept me alive at this time and became the only truly reliable thing in my life. We both knew we had codependency issues and tried to prevent things from going sour by agreeing to have open communication. The first three months were absolute bliss, but soon after I started having doubts. I read and heard way too much about relationships with pwBPD, as my best friend has it too, and questioned her truthfulness to me after fluking on me on many occasions. I straight up couldn't believe that someone slept 18 hours at a time, being completely out of reach, and afterwards not even offering an explanation. She has an extremely weird relationship with one of her brothers, where they talk and write as if they were a couple, complimenting each other and having a weekly outing called "Fridate Night" where they hang out. At the beginning, I thought how cute it was, but some things that she told me made me question the platonic part of their relationship. When first talking to me about him, she didn't tell me how he was or who he was; she told me about his chronic illness and that he was sterile because of it. When we were meeting up after they had these outings, she would not be interested in being intimate, one time having pink eyes and another time having immense pain in her lower parts. When I tried to probe for reasons why she dodged it, She also told me that when she was a teenager,doped out her mind on Benzos, he tried to condition her. There were times in our relationship where she told me that she "chose me" and that I should stop questioning their relationship. It doesn't help that I know a thing or two about that topic as well, having been friends with a girl who was growing up in very similar conditions to them (forced to spend most of their time pitted together in a small room, being isolated from the rest of the family, and eventually both moving away to a bigger city to escape their home). This girl, however, was not consenting to what was happening, and therapy helped her a lot. Now my girl insisted that nothing happened between them ever, but I could never shake this gut feeling that she wasn't telling me the truth. So one Friday in November, I was having immense doubts and decided to drive to her place and see if I could catch anything and observe. I was already hating myself for not controlling that impulse, and after 5 minutes of watching, I took the next bus home, thinking that I had messed up the relationship. At that time, nothing happened, and soon after being home, she messaged me after a full day of silence, saying that she was okay. At that time, I thought that she could have seen me, and if she did, she would confront me about it. But the confrontation never came directly. We had the best December and Christmas of my life. She prepared an advent calendar for me filled with sweets, postcards with drawings she made, and poetry. I was over the moon and thought that everything was fine. Christmas and New Year's were great as well, even though I noticed some times where she would be distant. January was when the relationship changed for the worse. I started carrying immense guilt for my behaviour, trying even harder to make up for my shit, and we were seemingly back to normal.
However, she slowly started putting a dagger into my back. She would randomly bring up how angry she would be if someone ever just showed up in front of her house again and again. Then she would start to gaslight me and slowly make me question my sense of self. She started claiming that we planned things that we never agreed upon, and she started using my dissociations as reasoning for my head being wrong. At this point, I started getting acid reflux when with her, and my head would sometimes go into fight or flight mode as she used my triggers to attack me, only to tell me afterwards that it "wasn't directed at me" and that I needed to work on my trust issues and insecurities. Little digs as far as calling me pig and snail as pet names, comparing me to her out-of-mind father and her abusive ex-boyfriend, and asking me at least five times every day if I'm mad and if I hate her. And she also would "jokingly" bring up things that were embarrassing to me, and she would find joy in my cringe, masking it as banter. She would also send me songs about unhappy relationships or breakups, never even going as far as mentioning anything about them.
I was ignoring most of these things as they started, as I gave her the benefit of the doubt, but I know that she has a sadistic side inside of her and that her family communicated through metaphorical middle fingers and devaluation.
She and her brother once spent a whole year creating a "comic" for her mother where the family were the protagonists and where they made fun of their mother for her choice of men, her family relationships, and her conspiracy beliefs, all nicely wrapped as a children's story. She kept chipping at me for the better part of 2 months, and eventually I wanted to force a confrontation and come clean, only to be completely gaslit by her again, leaving me to believe that she didn't know anything, even though when I told her what I did, she asked me whether I wanted to check if the lights were on and she was home, despite my not divulging when I went to her place. When we had our breakup, the last thing she gave me were two lighters, which together read "Fuck you, Rhino".
So now I'm sitting here, having lost the last thing to really hold me.
I neglected my best friend, who is short with me right now, offering shallow empathy when I tell him how I'm feeling, my brother, who still resents me for trying to break his relationship up years ago, and quit their roleplaying campaign as this relationship got more serious, even going as far as mocking me and my personality on discord while I was in the call and just returned from getting something to drink.
And the feeling is something almost nostalgic; I feel at peace with the decision to ctb in the upcoming time. One of the last things I wanted to experience before dying was being loved for who I am, and that relationship showed me that. I don't even want more of it; I feel like this frees me, and I have no regrets about this decision. I can't wait for the SN to be here and to map out what, when, and where. Although I want it to be quick, I know that my SI isn't strong enough to do anything about it.


So if anyone actually reads this to the end, I'm thankful. Was there anything in life that could have saved me? I feel like I was destined to fail from the start.
This community gives me a feeling of belonging, and even though I'm not here for a long period of time, I appreciate and respect each and everyone on here. It doesn't matter if you recover or go through with it; as long as your decisions feel right, they are valid. I still want to work on my SN regime and will probably post a separate thread about it.
And I don't quite know why I wrote all of this down, but I think it's refreshing to get a bit of an outside look. Thanks, SaSu, for being part of my final chapter.
 
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