Fractured mind of an abuse/sexual abuse Survivor

Ranting and thinking

Spiraling downwards out of control, these thoughts and memories are vague and haunting..The voices keep me awake each night while paranoia at the smallest and faintest of sounds taunt me. How can you even begin to make sense of anything when everything about you barely makes sense?

My name is Sheri and I grew up in an abusive home where everyday was a fight to stay alive..My memories are faint when it comes to my childhood...But i can tell you for sure, that i remember the pain, the loneliness, the hunger and the shouting. I was about..three or four when my grandfather....Yeah it was..No one believed me and i went on through the years, him always doing something to me..My mother found enjoyment in locking me up in the 'dark place'...Named rightly so because it was always a small, dark and musty smelling crawl space with no where else to go...I could be locked up for hours or days..The silence itself scared me and i think its why i have music playing at night, just to give me some sort of peace..My mother loved to starved me or feed me foods I was allergic to..just to watch me suffer..I was being bullied at school and so i could never turn to the teachers for help.

The public library became my only safe haven..my refuge away from the horribleness of the world. I lost track on how many hours i spent there but i know i read almost every book i was allowed to for my age..Maybe that was why I did so well in social studies and history based classes..Music and art were..things I couldn't do at home and could mostly be done at school..well i use to carry my acoustic guitar with me when i went to the cove by the water or up in the mountains but art..was harder. Mom always found my art books and forced me to watch as she burned them..

I remember reaching out to the police and child protective services..and i watched as they took my mother's side..That woman had a silver tongue..she was so good at wooing people..specially men..(that was how she had me after all...trapping some poor sailor in a one night stand and having me nine months later) See..i was born to only be a pawn..so she could drain that man's wallet while turning people against him. So i was always called a mistake, a nobody, a poor excuse of a life and so forth...Made me think it was why he didnt want me..and We fight about that sometimes...He likes comparing me to her when i shy away from one night stands..and do everything I can to not look like her..

Why must my skin be slightly dark because of the metis half? Why must my eyes be hazel..and my chair chestnut to dark brown? Why must i be short and weak looking? I hated my appearence for years..more so after i moved in with my father at the age of sixteen..Any fight we had...he compared me to her..telling me i was 'just' like her. Once, when i attempted suicide..he had me locked up in an institute and got upset when i was released two months later..

I soon learned that because of what i went through..I had an array of problems..weakened immune system, Severe anxiety, severe depression, PTSD( Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) borderline bi-polar, borderline personality disorder, DID ( Dissociative Identity disorder), severe anemia and brain damage that leaves me with a short term long term memory loss..Which made school ten times harder..I had to be taken out of a large school of six thousand students and placed in a 'special' school of only twenty students. My dad had me work full time while attending afternoon classes..(meaning i only went to school monday-friday for four hours) And seeing a therapist three to four times a week.

Only upside to the school aside from the teachers? I had this cool scottish woman as my case worker and she did everything she could to be there for me when i needed it. She was able to get me into a rowing program at a local university and we found something that helped with my anxiety and other issues.

Did having what i went through make it hard to adjust? Fuck yes it did...It was hard to make and keep friends..It was hard to get along with teachers and my dad...Specially after i kept stealing money from my step-mom's purse. Specialists later told  my father it was because I was in survival mode..Something that may never disappear because I had to be in it just to survive..So my dad has been weary of me since...even though i havent stolen anything since i was seventeen...But my step-mom's friend L...LOVES to accuse me of stealin thousands of dollars from her. ( Which was proven false, as her money went missing when people broke in and stole some shit..but ya know, blame the child..)

Im gonna end this here..maybe add more later?