If you feel like sharing, it would be really insightful to hear your experiences.
For what it's worth - I hope for the best for you and a positive outcome, whatever that may be.
Thank you! I've also recently started counseling/therapy again. Some of my issues I once had have subsided but I still do need help in a lot of other areas and I'm also applying for mental disability. I am hoping for the best and to get better.
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Just keep in mind that it's all personal and that my experience may be more extreme than others since this went through most of my life and I apologize if some of it feels a little incomprehensible or lacking in flow. I was up all night and these memories are also still tough on me so it may be like a stream of conscience at times? Maybe.
This part is on real life stalking that me and my family went through. My father abused us mentally, physically, emotionally and even sexually. He never went to jail because me and my brother were too young to testify in the court. So for awhile I was also forced to actually spend time with him and I barely remember those moments and probably for obvious reason. I just remember being very, very angry and explosive that I would lift benches and throw them and drag them around despite being so little. Eventually it was ruled that we didn't have to go see him anymore. He gave threats that he would follow us no matter where we go, even if it's not, he had friends that would.
I still remember being awake at nights always being the last to go to bed growing up. I had 3 reasons I would stay up in one house we lived in, sometimes slugs would get into the house at the front door and I thought they were cool and cute, being on guard duty, and hearing things. At the front door where the slugs would come in I would sometimes hear footsteps outside like right on the porch, other times I might hear whispering or talking just outside the house. I was scared to death and remember always carrying around a bat or something to attack with at night. I never felt safe no matter where I was. Super market? A friend of my father's keeping an eye on us. I remember at times where we might rush a bit through the store just to get out of there. I even remember detours on the ride home, hiding with the lights off in a parking lot. We also constantly moved around a lot to get away, and there were times when we might come home to our house or apartment and things are rearranged. Nothing was safe.
At the age of 10 I attempted suicide with a knife to my throat. I have no scarring, It never got to cut and I was put into a basket hold. And I had repeated thoughts throughout my teens.
I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to think, I didn't know how to protect anyone. I was angry, I was scared, I was sad, even all at once. I would get trapped in night terrors and sleep paralysis. I developed some paranoia and ways to keep track of people and I developed better flight responses. I mean, I carried a bat at night but I didn't know how to fight, but I learned to feel things around me and always keep my eyes open like a meerkat on watch looking for a predator. If I knew I was going somewhere large and public I'd shut off all emotion and put it to other areas. I still kinda do that, always being on guard that it's impossible to sneak up on me or scare me because I know you're coming by your footsteps, blocking air current, or blocking noise like the sound of a TV in the background. I used to keep track of every little detail of a person and how they may walk or run.
After awhile all this took its toll on my mom. In hindsight I only now notice it because I was always too worried about myself and my problems and my fears even though I was also wanting to protect others. I was the older brother, I always felt it was my responsibility to protect everyone, you know? But she had diabetes, so all that physical, mental and emotional pain took it's toll on her the hardest. She had break downs, she'd even be quick to anger like me and my brother. We were all in complete dysfunction. She would later fell into a diabetic coma and when she came out she wasn't the person I knew. She suffered brain damage and didn't know how to talk for awhile. I still remember that moment she did though, her first words were "I love you" to both me and my brother and we all started crying not wanting to leave. I can't remember my exact age at that time. I just remember before taking the trip to Witchita Falls to see her in the hospital that day we had a GameCube, so it probably was early to mid-teens maybe.
But you know, she did at least get to escape. She didn't remember any of those bad times, so for the first time she was actually happy. I still do regret not seeing her before she died last year though. I never went to see her as much as I should either. I grew distant and selfish because it was hard to see her so brittle.
In my teens I began to completely shut off. I was in a deep depression that I actually do not have a single photo of me in my teens. I avoided everything, I stayed secluded and paranoid. Though I did attempt to runaway at least a couple of times before being dragged back home in a police car.
The therapy helped some from my childhood and into some of my teens but it wasn't enough. I still couldn't trust or feel safe.
I do remember good news that there was finally some restraining order that he could no longer do this. But even now, how do I even know it stopped? Recently I learned of my grandmas on my father's side stayed in the same nursing home as my mom. How do I know the stalking even ended? I don't know, I probably won't ever know. I may not ever feel that piece of mind.
Being stalked and abused, it's just suffering. Just endless pain and suffering and loneliness cause you never know who to trust or what to do. Law couldn't help us in those darkest hours because we needed more proof that things were happening. My own paranoia even prevented me from maintaining friends then.
I hate my father a lot. I hate every fiber of his being for all that hell. And I don't hate people, I dislike. He is the only person I actively hate more than anyone else in the world.
I have gotten better than what I once was. Things still do linger but I'm actually talking about this like right now, and I'm actually talking to people and making friends online. I do consider online friends to be real friends. I can still talk deeper on all this, much deeper in fact but I think it might be best to leave that for therapy. Some of this even made me tear up a little.