I have been in therapy since I was three years old. I remember being in a room, a living room, the Hall, an apartment, where I sort of just stood still, and looked around in my environment...and all of it was just wrong. An ontological incompatibly, with an axiom, whose sole premise is pain and suffering.
But that's not why I was made to go to therapy. From birth until roughly the age of 20 I have had many traumas. I have been molested and raped. I have been subject to horrific amounts of poverty. I have gone nights and days starving, unable to eat. I would be beaten, emotionally and psychologically tortured, and I would endure all of this in a chaotic neighborhood.
School wasn't any better when I was young. I was bullied and beaten at school for being me I suppose. Not sure what I did wrong. I was also abused by teachers. One of my earliest memories, in Kindergarten, was hiding in a cabinet like structure, nails inside, sharp and painful. Still, it was preferable to being in a classroom.
Abuse isn't special, evil is redundant, so as a result I ended up being in much the same abuses until after high school. Still poor and dejected.
Therapy throughout this period was terrible. Up until my current therapist (who I am thankful for), not a single therapist or psychiatrist was willing to acknowledge the environment I was in...it was if being molested, and covered in my own feces and blood and urine was my fault. That it was all in my head... cognitive distortions. Medications given, nothing more than chemical straightjackets.
I was diagoned as autistic...I am not. I was not diagnosed with cptsd, or even ptsd, until literally my current therapist.
I was in linguistics for Grad school, but had a change of Heart, and I thought about the fact that I like helping people more. It feels good. I feel a sort of niche, even though i still believe I don't belong here.
I would be studying for a MSW (is this the correct degree?) and I would be doing so potentially this fall. I just...have doubts about it all.
It literally wasn't until I heard about cptsd on Reddit, by chance, and that I decided to read the Body keeps the Score, by Bessel Van der Kolk. At that moment...my heart sank. For 20 years...I haven't even been alive, cognizant of what was going on. It was as if I was behind the curtains of a grand strange...to then have them open to a live audience...many.
Gabor Maté and some readings later...I finally realized what was wrong with me...but then...is it me?
Is it depression, when I can't afford to eat, struggle to pay bills, and can't feed My children?
Is it anxiety when I worry about the rape and violation of the natural world, finite resources expected to yield Infinite profits?
Is it being delusional when I worry about not being taken seriously as a rape and child molestation victim, simply because I am a man (a poor Mexican American man at that)?
Is any of this really mental illness...or is it natural reactions, to an unnatural Monster, incapable of ever being satisfied with what it has cannibalized?
I don't know. Part of me wants to, in my own small way, to make right what was made wrong, to take revenge by fighting back against gaslighting, and victim blaming mentality, that seeks to justify evil unto itself.
Part of me wonders what's the point. So many choose this evil. They worship it. They glorify it. They would give their life for it. A system that destroys and leads to suicide.
I don't know. I'm tired, I am 25 years old, a POC (Am I? I don't feel like it. Sometimes in mental health discourse I feel like a monster for simply being a man. Even if I did become a therapist, there is the awkward reality that I would be a minority, since most are mainly women here in the United States), and...just tired.
What is your advice fellow individuals of the Internet? What should I do? I don't know.
If I did become a therapist, I would be interested in modalities such as EMDR, IFS, somatic experiencing, among others. To treat trauma, to find ways of healing the environment, and to end the alienation of damnation, by a mental health and pharmaceutical industry that ultimately justifies its own pollutions...all of this I would hope to do... hopefully.
But that's not why I was made to go to therapy. From birth until roughly the age of 20 I have had many traumas. I have been molested and raped. I have been subject to horrific amounts of poverty. I have gone nights and days starving, unable to eat. I would be beaten, emotionally and psychologically tortured, and I would endure all of this in a chaotic neighborhood.
School wasn't any better when I was young. I was bullied and beaten at school for being me I suppose. Not sure what I did wrong. I was also abused by teachers. One of my earliest memories, in Kindergarten, was hiding in a cabinet like structure, nails inside, sharp and painful. Still, it was preferable to being in a classroom.
Abuse isn't special, evil is redundant, so as a result I ended up being in much the same abuses until after high school. Still poor and dejected.
Therapy throughout this period was terrible. Up until my current therapist (who I am thankful for), not a single therapist or psychiatrist was willing to acknowledge the environment I was in...it was if being molested, and covered in my own feces and blood and urine was my fault. That it was all in my head... cognitive distortions. Medications given, nothing more than chemical straightjackets.
I was diagoned as autistic...I am not. I was not diagnosed with cptsd, or even ptsd, until literally my current therapist.
I was in linguistics for Grad school, but had a change of Heart, and I thought about the fact that I like helping people more. It feels good. I feel a sort of niche, even though i still believe I don't belong here.
I would be studying for a MSW (is this the correct degree?) and I would be doing so potentially this fall. I just...have doubts about it all.
It literally wasn't until I heard about cptsd on Reddit, by chance, and that I decided to read the Body keeps the Score, by Bessel Van der Kolk. At that moment...my heart sank. For 20 years...I haven't even been alive, cognizant of what was going on. It was as if I was behind the curtains of a grand strange...to then have them open to a live audience...many.
Gabor Maté and some readings later...I finally realized what was wrong with me...but then...is it me?
Is it depression, when I can't afford to eat, struggle to pay bills, and can't feed My children?
Is it anxiety when I worry about the rape and violation of the natural world, finite resources expected to yield Infinite profits?
Is it being delusional when I worry about not being taken seriously as a rape and child molestation victim, simply because I am a man (a poor Mexican American man at that)?
Is any of this really mental illness...or is it natural reactions, to an unnatural Monster, incapable of ever being satisfied with what it has cannibalized?
I don't know. Part of me wants to, in my own small way, to make right what was made wrong, to take revenge by fighting back against gaslighting, and victim blaming mentality, that seeks to justify evil unto itself.
Part of me wonders what's the point. So many choose this evil. They worship it. They glorify it. They would give their life for it. A system that destroys and leads to suicide.
I don't know. I'm tired, I am 25 years old, a POC (Am I? I don't feel like it. Sometimes in mental health discourse I feel like a monster for simply being a man. Even if I did become a therapist, there is the awkward reality that I would be a minority, since most are mainly women here in the United States), and...just tired.
What is your advice fellow individuals of the Internet? What should I do? I don't know.
If I did become a therapist, I would be interested in modalities such as EMDR, IFS, somatic experiencing, among others. To treat trauma, to find ways of healing the environment, and to end the alienation of damnation, by a mental health and pharmaceutical industry that ultimately justifies its own pollutions...all of this I would hope to do... hopefully.
