Psyche logo

My Beginning Trauma and PTSD

by Abrasive209bunny about a year ago in trauma

My life stories SLR

My Beginning Trauma and PTSD
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

My life hasn’t ever been easy, I’ve been thinking about my life choices and how they led me down this path of self destruction and everlasting relapse. Sometimes I wonder if I can ever stay clean or if I enjoy the madness of it all too much to try. I don’t want to justify the use of drugs, but I continue to try and convince myself that it helps me balance out my messy brain so I can feel the slightest bit of emotion. The last few years I’ve watched myself fall into addiction further then I’ve ever gone before. I feel lost and alone, isolated away from the world because I’m an unstable addict that cannot seem to get my shit together. The only time I feel like I can is when I’m high, the only time I can think clearly and make a clear plan is when I’m high which has led me to what I’m about to write about my life in this book I’ve convinced myself to write so here’s my story I’ll start at the beginning so you can understand how addiction took over my entire life. My earliest memories as a child revolved around drugs, and my father beating my mother daily while strung out on meth. My brothers and I lost our mother to drugs shortly after she left us with the monster she loved. She was found dead in a motel room in Stockton California when I was two years old. My father pushed her out of our lives and took a very important piece of my life from me due to his narcissistic personality. He took her to court for custody claiming to be a victim to her addiction but failed to mention that he took part in that personally. He was cooking and selling meth all over Stockton countless times I remember him dragging me by my arm to go sell his drugs walking so fast my feet would be pulled out from under me. This would make him very angry, he would yell and curse at me to get up, run, walk faster. That happened many times in my childhood. Not only did he remove her permanently from out lives but, he also removed the very few memories we even had by shedding every picture of my mother Nellie and selling everything she owned to his druggy friends things that were promised to be mine once I was old enough to be given her possessions. After she died things began to change drastically he became abusive to my brothers and myself. Once she died he lost his punching bag and resorted to us mainly me, he never loved me he has proven that time and time again my little brother Ryan was extremely neglected he was only eight months old when she died. I remember the funeral being very confusing everyone was crying except my dad he stood in the very back filled with rage as we got to view her body before she was put to rest. My Aunt Cindy and Uncle Vince told us she was sleeping with tear filled eyes expecting us to believe their lies. We all got into the limousine watching as everyone grieved it seemed like time went by slowly, when we finally pulled into St.Josephs Cemetery to watch as my Uncles Edward, Vince, Floyd, and Euel carried her casket from the Hearst to this huge hole in the ground next to my grandfathers headstone.

Losing my mom was the start to such a unfortunate life. About 3 years later was when things really started getting scary and confusing. My dad came home one day with a women named Barbara and her baby daughter Angelina. They lived close just right down the street from our grandmas house on Auto Ave in the trailer park with her mom and sister who also had two children. Soon after meeting Barbara and her daughter the anger began this raging fire I’ve never been able to put out in my soul I felt betrayed and alone. She would try and buy our affection and demand respect, when she didn’t get what she wanted she would go and cry to my father who would hit and beat us if she complained about us . Once he got comfortable with her and invited her to live with us he kicked me and my brothers Jimmy and Ryan out of our room we shared with him into the make shift laundry room as if we were his baggage. Then things really began to get bad he started going on drug binges and fighting with his new girlfriend Barbara everyday. Eventually he began to beat her while we hid under our covers trying to stay quiet so he didn’t hear us and come attack us too. I remember riding dirt bikes in grandma Sandys back yard practicing for the races in Lodi, my dad would gamble money with other parents and sponsors expecting us to win every race. Eventually he gave up on taking me at all due to me losing my races because the cameras on the track distracted me, I’d go from first place to last at a blink of an eye because I would look at the cameras when they would take my pictures. I have one picture of myself racing as a child looking right at the camera. Jimmy was his favorite he was the only one out of the three of us that wasn’t really abused and neglected because his asthma would have him in and out of the hospital a lot, and my father also just always has favored him sense I can remember. He was his money maker his race winner his prodigy. He would always tell everyone how proud he was of James and would always gloat about his wins and accomplishments. Meanwhile me and my little brother Ryan we’re stuck with Barbara who we found out had mental disorders and wasn’t mentally old enough to take care of us. Her lack of education and lack of parenting skills led me to have to raise my little brother while my father was gone while babysitting her and her daughter. My little brother couldn’t communicate he didn’t know how to talk or correctly speak proper sentences which left his frustrated and misunderstood. My father would tease him and call him the Tasmanian devil. He not only had speech issues but he also was not able to stop urinating on us in his sleep we shared a bed so his problem became our problem. I remember finally starting kindergarten and feeling scared and crying because of the separation anxiety. Finally after my first week I started to feel like school was my safe place. I never wanted to leave I would get attached to my teachers which was unhealthy for me because when it came time to say goodbye I felt like I was losing my mom all over again. My favorite teacher was my kindergarten teacher I remember a conversation she had with my father about me and how quiet and shy I was but how smart she thought I was and that I’d be very successful one day. He brushed that off with just a nod. Once I began to read and write my teachers began to understand me for who I was, they would write me little notes telling me they were proud of me and that I can do anything I set my mind to. Yet I never made my father proud only his pride and joy Jimmy while he was out racing I was reading and writing teaching Ryan to speak and being awarded every month with students of the month awards and it was somehow never enough for him. As the years went by things began to get bad my father had a new baby with Barbara they named him Daniel. Once Daniel was born my father acted as if he owned Barbara and treated her as if she was a piece of property and not the mother of his child. Daniel was born premature so he was very small, I remember taking care of him once he was brought home because his mother had always been careless and neglectful of her daughter. She was always trying to drag all of us kids and her niece and nephew’s around the ghettos of Stockton. Daniel was my baby I’d tell myself as I watched him grow. I felt like his mother I did everything I wished my mother could do for me for my new little brother. I remember my birthday rolling around after she had Daniel and their was a huge fight in the livingroom my father was beating Barbara. She was screaming and crying for help as he blared Eminem’s Kim as loud as he could to cover up the sounds of her screaming. This happened shortly after my grandma was released from jail she had her arm amputated after a car accident she was drinking and driving and was hit by a truck. She was hit so hard her truck rolled taking most of her arm with it after she was hospitalized and released she was arrested for 180 days which my father took over her home and created the hell we had to live through. Once she was able to come home she tried to get in between my father and Barbara so he would stop hitting her, and my dad lashed out and pushed my grandma in front of her husband Rob. He furiously approached my dad and attacked once he seen my grandma burst into tears. Barbara had Daniel in her arms trying to leave while pregnant with another baby by my father, she dropped him as Ron attacked my father fearing for his life I watched in terror as my step grandpa stepped on Daniels face causing his nose to bleed. After the abuse started to finally set into her head she wanted to leave she tried many times only to have my dad drag her back into the hell we called home. Eventually the new baby was born another brother his name is Skyler. Things just weren’t safe at home to bring another baby into our lives, I was angry and full of anxiety about what could happen to this baby because of the neglect and abuse. I felt like I had to take on the roll of mom at the age of six and I remember being overly stressed out do to having two new brothers for my dad to cause harm to but he didn’t to my surprise. He turned all his anger towards Barbara, me and my little brother Ryan once he got into kindergarten was when my dad started to target him. I’d try my best to keep Ryan out of his sight when he was in his rage mode, I remember watching him hit Ryan a few times and I remember crying because it hurt me so much not being able to save him from the evil grips of that man. He never showed us love he only ever showed us aggression and hatred he ended up in jail for willful child abuse which was the best day of my life. It felt like a long deserved vacation while he was in jail I didn’t feel scared or anxious for the first time in my life I was relieved and felt safe, but that was short lived of course once he returned home the fear found its way back to me. He started tattooing in his garbage he spent a lot of time out there once he came home from jail he was on probation trying to lay low so he stopped selling drugs and turned to tattooing. One day he brought home this man that Barbara knew from her childhood she called him Uncle Shelby. He seemed nice he was caring and spent time with us unlike my dad he made it seem like he cared for us.He would come over often I remember one day we were playing outside and he sat on my tricycle and broke it which broke my heart because it was my favorite bike a red radio flyer. Eventually him and my dad became pretty good friends and Shelby would come over everyday and bring his little dog eventually my dad started to trust him and allowed him to babysit us. This was the biggest mistake he could have made, my father and Barbara were leaving to Christmas shop and decided that Shelby would be okay babysitting me and my brothers and step sister. What my father didn’t know was Shelby had other plans that night. As we were watching movies Shelby told me to come sit on his lap me being a child thought if I said no I’d be in trouble so I did it even though I had a horrible feeling inside my stomach. Shortly after I sat on his lap he began to try and touch me and rub me in my privates while asking me, “Does that feel good?” I didn’t respond as I was in shock he pulled his penis out of his pants and said to me “You can touch it if you want to, but only if you want to.” I still sat there in shock unable to speak as he tried to put my hand around his penis. Then suddenly my brother came running out of my fathers room thankfully because that gave me the chance to jump up and get out of the situation as quickly as possible, I didn’t know what to think or do and finally my father came home and Shelby went to the garbage with him to smoke marijuana leaving me no opportunity to tell my father what happened. Even if he had left immediately what would I tell my father and how I couldn’t bring myself to tell him because I was deeply ashamed and embarrassed, I felt used and knew if I told my father he would become violent which scared me just to think of so I didn’t tell him. Shelby would come over everyday after that and I’d keep my distance and hide in my room until he would leave. Eventually as time went on more fighting and physical abuse happened and Cps was called which scared my dad so we packed up and headed out of state to Oregon to live with Aunt Cindy who I actually forgot about after she left us stranded with him being abused all those years I wasn’t ready to even see my moms family, they betrayed us they told us they wouldn’t leave and they did. My father never liked Cindy he would tell us all kinds of stories to make her look bad and turn us against our mothers family. He would act like he was their best friends to their faces. Cindy questioned us asking about my fathers abuse and drug use and cried as she told us why she left and that she didn’t want to leave but had to. I didn’t buy her crap and felt anger and frustration. How can you say you love someone and leave them to be abused and neglected, these thoughts still fill my head when I think back to the past. My father was never there for me as a child or my little brother Ryan he made me who I am today. I’m ashamed to say he has turned my thoughts and emotions into a chaotic place where I can’t feel comfortable and safe I feel imprisoned in my own mind and body, I can’t trust anyone not even myself. I have racing thoughts about my future and fears of being left alone unwanted and unloved til I die. PTSD and Anxiety and depression have stolen my life from me Bipolar Disorder has shown me I’m not able to be loved or love anyone the way I want to. Insomnia is just the icing on the cake I can’t even drift off into a dream of a better me because these racing thoughts are always there keeping me awake it’s a reminder that this will never end mental illness has consumed my life from childhood to now. These are the cards I’ve been dealt I’ve never found an answer as to why I was given this life but my journey isn’t over yet. My fight isn’t over, I’ll keep fighting til the very end.



I’m a mom of 4 boys I also suffer from mental illness I just came here to kinda get my story out there and see where it goes.

Receive stories by Abrasive209bunny in your feed
Read next: Who Needs a Therapist When (Pt. 23)

Find us on social media

Miscellaneous links

  • Explore
  • Contact
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Use
  • Support

© 2021 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.