gunmetalblue11
New Member
- Oct 31, 2025
- 2
Honestly It's selfish but I guess I just wanted to make this my first post of this forum? So that, some part of my life is written out there I guess.
I've been craving a end to life since the moment I can first remember.
For context I have traumatic amnesia from my childhood up until my teens (17 years old) I'm regaining fragments through EMDR therapy but honestly, it isn't helping. Because what I remember.... Makes everything worse. I have dyslexia so, forgive spelling errors hehe.
My first memory was my country of birth, I must have been 4 years old. I remember relieving myself in a suitcase to avoid facing my alcoholic, mentality ill, abusive father during the night. I cannot remember much from the time. Just that I didn't have many friends. I didn't speak until 5 years old, selective mutism apparently. Now I realise it was because I was a terrified child. I had some friends in primary school, I would fight them, girl or boy, because violence was all I had known, like my father taught me. Then I would lie to try and escape consequences, like my mother taught me.
At age 11 we moved country overnight, my father fleeing his activities. I didn't get to say goodbye. All my possessions, little as they were got ripped away. I ended up in a country I didn't speak the language of. Spend a year living with some grandparents, the first grandparents I actually met. While behind all knowledge, my uncle would visit the house and rape me. (Btw he is a international doctor that works with kids, yes I thought about reporting to the police, but by how they handled other rape situations I have witnessed. If I am honest, I don't have the strength to be accused of lying about this. Yes I am a pathic fool.) My father being the unstable aggressive man he is then ruined the relationships, forcing my mother and I to move across the country into a plot of land with 6 dogs with no money. A ruined house, living in a broken caravan for years. Christmas I had no presents, winter was cold without electricity because my father wouldn't work. And my mother with her salary alone couldn't raise enough. I was bullied at school, because I was different. Worse thing is I didn't event understand what my bullies were saying to me until years later with a better grasp of the language. All I could feel is that they hated me, when I only wanted friends. At school I was hated. At home I was beaten. So I gave up doing homework, everything. Spending hours swinging on a old swing my father build so I wouldn't bother him. Taking to trees, trying to make friends with the sky asking it to rain to confirm I wasn't alone. It never rained.
My parents never cared about my lack of school grades. Never showing up to parent teacher meetings. I was the only kid of my class to go alone. Hear teachers tell me I would never be anything in live if I stayed this way, when in the back of my mind I already wanted to end it. I remember now during this period, my father while my mother worked would beat me blue. Force me to sleep standing. He even forced me into ACSA (you can look it up, but TW it involves animals, I regained this memory through EMDR therapy). The caravan we lived in had holes in the floor and was filled with bugs. The council of the city hating my father ordered us to move into the building he was half time renovating (an old barn house), he hadn't started. So I slept in a bathroom on plaster board for 2 years next to the family toilet. When at night I would get up to get a glass of water or such, I would hear my father either raping my mother. (I was born through rape btw). Or crying recalling how he maybe had another child. Once my highschool called the police because some friends reported my bruises, after being taken to the police forcefully, testifying, begging to be taken away, the judge concluded it was 'my father character'. They refused my demand for foster care. I never reported anything after that. Never spoke of the abuse agan. To this day my psychiatrist and people I talked to about this can't believe nothing was done.
I was the family translator. When they had a problem I had to translate everything, making me grow up to do paperwork way too early. And when my parents argued, my father would hold me captive in the barn. Even after my mother would walk 2 hours to the police station to rat out my father. Other times she would run off into the forest, my father would force me to go find her through the hills and woods. Beg her to come back. Manipulation. I was a child. I didn't understand. She always came back eventually, each time with less life. Less happiness. Until she worked so much I would see her every week end before she dropped me off for the high school transportation bus at 6 am, and give me cigarettes before. Knowing I smoked and trying to keep me sane best she could.
In highschool, I got in a relationship. My first love. He OD'd. Introduced me to bad habits. I can't explain how that just, broke me. If there was anything else to break. I was young so with no emotional support or attachement and full of grief I tried to latch into other relationships. They ended also very badly. I would go home as little as possible sleeping in the most unhinged situations. I didn't study in highschool, but got my diploma by sheer luck, or because I have some intelligence. By the end I was a drug addict and alcoholic.
That summer break, I got kicked out after severe abuse. I called a teacher of my old high school I was close to asking for numbers of associations to contact, because I had been sleeping previously between the grave of my first partner and the church nearby. She decided to take me into her place. It stated well, her boyfriend got me a job. Until they tried to pull me into their relationship as a kink. I was 18. Yes, legally an adult. But they were 26. And underneath I was a kid with so much trauma which she knew. And now around that age, god I can't imagine even being tempted to do that.
I ended up fleeing to university cities away. My alcoholism grew worse. I met someone I got into a relationship with them. Turned out they were schizophrenic. Bless their soul. But they just... Ruined the pebbles of me left. 4 years later I was a dropout, who broke up with them. They left me in dept after not paying their share of rent of the flat we got together. I ended up losing said flat. My friends. My possessions. Becoming homeless for a year and a half at 23.
A friend's mother of mine from highschool offered to give me a place one summer by the beach. She was in fact a severely unstable addict who I had previously forced into rehab who never got better. I had no choice. I accepted. During the time she bullied me, and pushed me into very difficult situations. I learned the flat I had taken which had mold and was not liable, was actually a squatting situation. I ended up leaving when my psychiatrist offered me a place in hospital a few cities away. Fleeing. She to this day expects 70 euros of rent. At the time I had no money. During that summer in order to feed myself, and have a place to stay at some point I got SA'd again. Brutally. I have PTSD from it. (Amongst my entire life) Other things happened but again, my memory is blurry.
After the hospital I didn't find a flat in time, so I spend 6 months living in a friends basement. In the complete dark. She didn't want, or care, to give me a couch in her flat. It destroyed my psych. Because if I made noise, the neighbours could call the police on me, and I would have been kicked out mid winter. I was already, so cold.
Since April I have been granted a flat, have government funding since my case and evaluation was so bad. But I am, so alone. I cannot go outside, agoraphobic. I talk to nobody. My old friends in the city have advanced with their lives. And I am happy for them. Really. But I have nothing. I spend my days writing, I cannot even draw anymore. I can't even clean despite my OCD. My cat had cancer and is going to leave soon, she's kind why I'm still here. I spend months without taking to anyone asides my psychiatrist, who isn't much help. Or the EMDR therapy, which reminds me of things I don't want to know or remember.
I have no goals in life. I am constantly in pain. Numb. I plan to ctb, I have tried in the past, attempts that left my kidneys and now stomach in terrible condition. I haven't come up with a solid plan yet. I am researching.
So that is my life.
Sorry I don't know what else to say. Heh.
I've been craving a end to life since the moment I can first remember.
For context I have traumatic amnesia from my childhood up until my teens (17 years old) I'm regaining fragments through EMDR therapy but honestly, it isn't helping. Because what I remember.... Makes everything worse. I have dyslexia so, forgive spelling errors hehe.
My first memory was my country of birth, I must have been 4 years old. I remember relieving myself in a suitcase to avoid facing my alcoholic, mentality ill, abusive father during the night. I cannot remember much from the time. Just that I didn't have many friends. I didn't speak until 5 years old, selective mutism apparently. Now I realise it was because I was a terrified child. I had some friends in primary school, I would fight them, girl or boy, because violence was all I had known, like my father taught me. Then I would lie to try and escape consequences, like my mother taught me.
At age 11 we moved country overnight, my father fleeing his activities. I didn't get to say goodbye. All my possessions, little as they were got ripped away. I ended up in a country I didn't speak the language of. Spend a year living with some grandparents, the first grandparents I actually met. While behind all knowledge, my uncle would visit the house and rape me. (Btw he is a international doctor that works with kids, yes I thought about reporting to the police, but by how they handled other rape situations I have witnessed. If I am honest, I don't have the strength to be accused of lying about this. Yes I am a pathic fool.) My father being the unstable aggressive man he is then ruined the relationships, forcing my mother and I to move across the country into a plot of land with 6 dogs with no money. A ruined house, living in a broken caravan for years. Christmas I had no presents, winter was cold without electricity because my father wouldn't work. And my mother with her salary alone couldn't raise enough. I was bullied at school, because I was different. Worse thing is I didn't event understand what my bullies were saying to me until years later with a better grasp of the language. All I could feel is that they hated me, when I only wanted friends. At school I was hated. At home I was beaten. So I gave up doing homework, everything. Spending hours swinging on a old swing my father build so I wouldn't bother him. Taking to trees, trying to make friends with the sky asking it to rain to confirm I wasn't alone. It never rained.
My parents never cared about my lack of school grades. Never showing up to parent teacher meetings. I was the only kid of my class to go alone. Hear teachers tell me I would never be anything in live if I stayed this way, when in the back of my mind I already wanted to end it. I remember now during this period, my father while my mother worked would beat me blue. Force me to sleep standing. He even forced me into ACSA (you can look it up, but TW it involves animals, I regained this memory through EMDR therapy). The caravan we lived in had holes in the floor and was filled with bugs. The council of the city hating my father ordered us to move into the building he was half time renovating (an old barn house), he hadn't started. So I slept in a bathroom on plaster board for 2 years next to the family toilet. When at night I would get up to get a glass of water or such, I would hear my father either raping my mother. (I was born through rape btw). Or crying recalling how he maybe had another child. Once my highschool called the police because some friends reported my bruises, after being taken to the police forcefully, testifying, begging to be taken away, the judge concluded it was 'my father character'. They refused my demand for foster care. I never reported anything after that. Never spoke of the abuse agan. To this day my psychiatrist and people I talked to about this can't believe nothing was done.
I was the family translator. When they had a problem I had to translate everything, making me grow up to do paperwork way too early. And when my parents argued, my father would hold me captive in the barn. Even after my mother would walk 2 hours to the police station to rat out my father. Other times she would run off into the forest, my father would force me to go find her through the hills and woods. Beg her to come back. Manipulation. I was a child. I didn't understand. She always came back eventually, each time with less life. Less happiness. Until she worked so much I would see her every week end before she dropped me off for the high school transportation bus at 6 am, and give me cigarettes before. Knowing I smoked and trying to keep me sane best she could.
In highschool, I got in a relationship. My first love. He OD'd. Introduced me to bad habits. I can't explain how that just, broke me. If there was anything else to break. I was young so with no emotional support or attachement and full of grief I tried to latch into other relationships. They ended also very badly. I would go home as little as possible sleeping in the most unhinged situations. I didn't study in highschool, but got my diploma by sheer luck, or because I have some intelligence. By the end I was a drug addict and alcoholic.
That summer break, I got kicked out after severe abuse. I called a teacher of my old high school I was close to asking for numbers of associations to contact, because I had been sleeping previously between the grave of my first partner and the church nearby. She decided to take me into her place. It stated well, her boyfriend got me a job. Until they tried to pull me into their relationship as a kink. I was 18. Yes, legally an adult. But they were 26. And underneath I was a kid with so much trauma which she knew. And now around that age, god I can't imagine even being tempted to do that.
I ended up fleeing to university cities away. My alcoholism grew worse. I met someone I got into a relationship with them. Turned out they were schizophrenic. Bless their soul. But they just... Ruined the pebbles of me left. 4 years later I was a dropout, who broke up with them. They left me in dept after not paying their share of rent of the flat we got together. I ended up losing said flat. My friends. My possessions. Becoming homeless for a year and a half at 23.
A friend's mother of mine from highschool offered to give me a place one summer by the beach. She was in fact a severely unstable addict who I had previously forced into rehab who never got better. I had no choice. I accepted. During the time she bullied me, and pushed me into very difficult situations. I learned the flat I had taken which had mold and was not liable, was actually a squatting situation. I ended up leaving when my psychiatrist offered me a place in hospital a few cities away. Fleeing. She to this day expects 70 euros of rent. At the time I had no money. During that summer in order to feed myself, and have a place to stay at some point I got SA'd again. Brutally. I have PTSD from it. (Amongst my entire life) Other things happened but again, my memory is blurry.
After the hospital I didn't find a flat in time, so I spend 6 months living in a friends basement. In the complete dark. She didn't want, or care, to give me a couch in her flat. It destroyed my psych. Because if I made noise, the neighbours could call the police on me, and I would have been kicked out mid winter. I was already, so cold.
Since April I have been granted a flat, have government funding since my case and evaluation was so bad. But I am, so alone. I cannot go outside, agoraphobic. I talk to nobody. My old friends in the city have advanced with their lives. And I am happy for them. Really. But I have nothing. I spend my days writing, I cannot even draw anymore. I can't even clean despite my OCD. My cat had cancer and is going to leave soon, she's kind why I'm still here. I spend months without taking to anyone asides my psychiatrist, who isn't much help. Or the EMDR therapy, which reminds me of things I don't want to know or remember.
I have no goals in life. I am constantly in pain. Numb. I plan to ctb, I have tried in the past, attempts that left my kidneys and now stomach in terrible condition. I haven't come up with a solid plan yet. I am researching.
So that is my life.
Sorry I don't know what else to say. Heh.
