
Sit back.. this is going to be a long one..

I was a victim of sever childhood abuse. As an adult it feels wrong to say it because I love my mother to pieces, but she really did some things that were just horrendous. 
To start, my mother had a temper. She would lash out and yell and scream and accuse me of intentionally trying to get to her. This could be little things from leaving the door unlocked to leaving a dish in the sink. Anything she saw a problem with, I was yelled at and made to feel like I couldn’t get anything right. 
One thing my mother would chastise me for most was for taking things too literal. It took until my adulthood to be diagnosed with autism but as a child I was just an idiot who couldn’t think. That mindset alone always made me feel like there was something wrong with me and that I shouldn’t be alive. Since childhood I’ve struggled with suicidal ideations. If I’m being honest it started before I could really feel my mothers abuse. 

As I got older the abuse got worse. By middle school I was isolated from any and everyone for weeks at a time. The summers were the worst, it was like my solitary confinement. If I did something wrong my mother would take things from me. I was an avid reader and loved listening to NPR on the radio, and she took both when I did something to upset her. I was stuck in my room, as a 12 y/o, with nothing but my bed, a desk, and a window. For weeks at a time. The mental dexterity needed as a child to understand complete isolation as punishment… well for awhile it felt like jail.  
Fast forward to high school and things escalated significantly. She would restrict food and tell me I needed to ask her if I wanted to eat. If I ate something without asking then I was beaten to the point of open wounds for it. It was around this time that my friends at school started to wonder what was really going on. I had a friend ask if I wanted her to call CPS but I was too scared of my mother and what would happen to my little brothers. I would only eat at school and get food from the vending machine throughout the week to have on the weekends. During this time I lived in the basement of my house so the isolation was tenfold. 
One last anecdote before I wrap up.. my mother tried to put me in therapy once.. but she quickly pulled me out once I started revealing what she was doing. She told me that the therapist said I was lying and there was no point in keeping me in therapy. As a kid I was confused because I knew I was telling the truth. It made me feel even more helpless. As an adult I know that she was threatened with CPS and didn’t want me to say anything else. 

All that to say, I’m fucked up. My mother wasn’t loving at all. I can count on my one hand the amount of times she hugged and kissed me or said “I love you”. Now in my adulthood after having a tumultuous adolescence… I find myself obsessed with gaining her affection. My psychiatrist told me I have to look for that in someone else… but ever since I stopped talking to her I have nightmares constantly. She’s always aggressing me… trying to keep me from leaving her house. Being violent. I’m usually crying in these dreams. The dreams have gotten progressively more violent. Lately I’ve been fighting for my life in almost every dream. Getting closer and closer to death. It’s haunting me. It’s driving me insane. It’s hard to describe PTSD let alone C-PTSD to anyone who isn’t a professional. It’s hard for people to understand the true depth at which your psyche has been altered. I’m taking my meds. I’m talking to my therapist. But I feel deeply suicidal every day. It’s maddening. Time has become an illusion and I have to say the days out loud to remember it’s a new one. 

I know there’s someone else out there who can relate
Thanks for listening. 
p.s obviously this is a gross simplification of my childhood. Please bear that in mind when commenting