u/addictedtomanwhas

I've been so strained lately from the amount of flashbacks I've been getting about my trauma. I haven't harmed myself in 5 days. The longest was a month. It has also been 6 months since I last overdosed on anything and even then, I still feel so empty. I just want the gratification of knowing I'm hurting myself and that I need someone to help me. I want to tell someone, I want to. I've barely eaten and moved in the past few days. Please, help. Anything I can do to distract myself.

Sort of a question for the older people here—do things really get better? It's something I've also questioned in myself. Despite just being a teenager, there hasn't been a year in which I wasn't subject to different kinds of trauma. I've got yet to take a break from it. I don't even know when this'll all end. Does it even have an ending? Is it possible to even get help? How can you cope with everything that's happened? I find the notion of that as something so inspiring, brave really—and yet I can't do it myself.

Edit: Wow, I can't even bring myself to reply to all of this. It feels so wholesome and like, understanding in a way that warms my heart. Thank you so much for all of your responses, I didn't think this would gain a lot of traction.

Flashbacks keep coming. It's always reminding me of how my CSA and SA will always follow me. I don't wanna harm myself right now but I feel like I might. I'm scared. I don't want to, I really don't, but it feels like I really might. I'm so tired of all of this already, it doesn't help that it feels like I'm only growing up now. I don't wanna keep masking my pain and looking for distractions. I don't wanna rely on some pills or my knives, I don't want to. But I'm so exhausted and it feels like the longer I live, things may not actually be worth it.

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I've been having flashbacks and memories of my CSA/SA. I especially hate how I coped with it because it resulted in me being a really disgusting kid and teen. The fact that it still happens to me once, twice, or thrice a year is probably karma for how I've basically abused myself.

It's been about at least 6 months since I've last OD myself. I did it not to die or anything but thinking of myself deteriorating made me feel better. It's been about 4-5 days since I've last harmed myself as well. The longest I went without doing so was 1-2 months. I can't even be in the vicinity of chopping boards and knives because I won't be able to stop my thoughts or control my urges. I'm so tired. Paired with my unusual depression that has stunted me physically, I just.. wanna finish myself further.

TW:

> Suicidal Ideation

> CSA, SA

> Child abuse

I never wanna grow up. That's what I said when I was 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...and all the way to the edges of puberty. I wanted to stay young, innocent, and full of unawareness—letting myself get abused by everyone around me. But I loved it. I loved my abuse. I loved my abusers. I loved everyone around me. Yes, it's true, all the adults around me harmed me one way or another. But I believed that if I stayed hopeful, persistent, and happy, maybe I'd get a happy ending. Maybe they'd finally love me. I saw a shooting star pass by once, I was 6 years old, still full of life for the world, and begged on my knees for a family that loved. But my viewpoint of love was ruined, I did not know of love at all.

My version of love came from those who struck my body with their own lewdness and threw me off to chase after the remnants of what they left behind. My tears were a fetish in making, my broken heart for theirs to mend. So I thought everyone wanted to love me that way. I thought, that if I forced the first move, they'd finally touch me with the same warmth I felt from those before. I thought that if I let their lewdness pass and overtake me, maybe I'd understand the wonders of adulthood. But no, in that attempt to show my love, I hurt myself over and over, trying to seek the thrill of my so called childhood romance. I spent 8, 9, or perhaps 10 years, thinking that as long as it was me, as long as it was my body that was violated, it would be okay. Whether it be past, present, future, as long as it was me, it'd be fine.

Now, I think it's time for me to go. I'm tired, drained, and strained off my life. I have coped in all the wrong ways, I have let myself endure for the wrong people. There is no one around to help me. I'm all alone, all by myself, and I'll die with all I have left. For someone as disgusting and as repulsive and frantically sickening, this is a really well-deserved ending.

It's so tiring. I'm in between wanting to relieve it all over and over or to bury what happened with different experiences until I become absolutely sick of it. It's disgusting, I'm disgusting, everything is. It's been that way for years. I don't know what I'm chasing for anymore. I barely remember what happened but I do know that something happened. I can remember all the other ones that followed after. It's fucking me up, really, but I guess that's just what growing up is.

It's unfair, it's so unfair. I wanted to be cherished too, I wanted to be taken in by a loving family and given the care I needed. And I'm already breaking down even further as I type this. I wanted that kind of romantic love too, I didn't want my first spring to be with a much older man who would hurt me. I didn't wanna spend 10 years of my life being hurt over and over at school and at home, I didn't wanna spend the other 9 coping in all the worst ways—why did I, the child in this situation, have to be the one to find ways to cope? Why did I have to be the one to figure out how to make sense of everything while being actively hurt? Its so unfair. It makes me cry so much and I hate it. I hate that I keep demonizing myself over and over instead of hating the adults around me for abusing me, letting me abused, and putting me in a situation where it was just me, myself, and I. I hate how I'm jumbling between emotions and having to regulate a part of myself that feels like an unresolved child, an overworked adult, and a tired teenager. It's all so tiring, I'm so tired, and strained, and just straining even further. I wanna live, I really do, I want to tell people what happened to me, I wanna remember what happened, I wanna be able to love and be loved, I wanna find those that hurt me and get justice—but it feels too late now, I've grown old, there's no hope for me anymore.

Like I've chased after their shadows my entire childhood and early teenage years. I've relieved everything over and over again, whored myself out and was sexualized to the extreme, went in contact with multiple other preds, and treated my trauma like it was a fetish by writing and reading about it for years. I can't do it. I want to experience the same thrill I had from being abused with an inch of my life, I want to feel the romantic love that came like spring when I was told I was a good girl. I miss it, I miss it so much. I'm gonna cry from how much I deathly yearn for it and how empty I feel as a person that I'm no longer getting abused that specific way.

I have very vague memories and flashbacks of this specific male teacher from my 1st and 2nd grade. I do not actually know the proper timeline of when we met and what happened as my memories are completely blacked out, somewhat disconnected from my body, and very blurry. The only thing that I know is that he is one of the main reasons as to why I severely reenacted my trauma over the years (until I was 14), trying to chase after the child-like thrill and 'romantic happiness' I associated with him.

> A memory I consider the first is of when I was running out of my classroom, crying, and he had suddenly passed by and basically asked if he could comfort me. I remember having an extremely long conversation with him and him asking if we could be friends. We even made a pinky promise (?) and hugged, I remember feeling really warm about this memory.

> Cue to a memory blackout and suddenly I'm extremely afraid of him. I have no other memory of making contact with him at all. I'm just extremely afraid, constantly hyperventilating, and running away. He would visit our classroom during class hours, especially in the early mornings. I remember being able to hear his footsteps and always turning around to check if he'd come in and I'd immediately run away, hiding behind our classroom door. One time, he actually spotted me hiding—I still remember shaking, my lungs collapsing, and his cold breath on my back as he asked as to why I was hiding. I remember stuttering and telling him I was just sharpening my pencil. Another time, I wasn't able to run away and hid my face using our math book—he immediately praised me in front of the class for being a "good girl" and caressed my head. I felt really conflicted and couldn't choose between feeling scared or loved.

> Another memory I have that I suspected happened before the second ones above are when I was lost during school groupings and coincidentally he found me, picked me up, and brought me to his classroom where all the other kids were. He seated me at the very back, I think on top of a table, where I was basically staring at his direction. I remember him smiling at me and just looking. And another would be of him telling my grandma how much of a good student I was, it was basically a one on one moment and I can't really seem to remember what happened before this memory nor do I know what I felt. What's strange is that he was not my teacher at all.

> The last memory I have is of him telling me he'd change schools, saying goodbye, and told me he'd miss me (?). In this specific memory, I was disassociating. I don't remember giving a response but I remember the feeling of fear and disappointment wash over me.

For years, I've been sort of chasing after the shadow of his disappearance. Looking for him in male teachers and eventually going on to "seduce" them, overworking myself to become their best student. I did meet someone who looked exactly like him and he gave me bouts of special treatment as well. I saw absolutely no violence in any of my past molestations, including this one, which is why as I got older, I'd frequently get in contact with people online, put myself in risky situations where I'd get SA'd, and wrote and read about my trauma like it were a fetish. I have more physical and psychological symptoms from this but it'd be too much to write now.

Yes, I am actively still in an abusive environment. Anyways, I do not know why this keeps happening. My body just gets so scared and huddles up by itself and does that. I have no idea why. It's weird in all the wrong ways and is the exact reason why I have never told anyone I get beaten because of how it just comes passing by. With all the other symptoms my body shows regarding the different kinds of abuse I've faced, this is the most embarrassing one. Does anyone else experience this or have? 🥹🥹

TW:

> mentions of CSAM, rape, SH, and OD'ing.

> SA/CSA/Pedophilia

> Suicidal Ideation

I can't help but feel guilty about it like I've ruminated over it multiple times now and have had conversations with friends and have seen people do similar things but I'm just guilty. I can't get it out of my throat. I sexualized my trauma for years (from the ages of 9-14), framing it as some sort of pornography or romance. That's what my trauma is to me—what gives me gratification, what I've labeled as affection, and what makes me feel worthy of being loved. It disgusts me knowing that I actively read things about my abuse, would write about it myself (through my own characters or just directly myself), and even felt connected with my writing. And I did it all unaware, thinking it was normal, and found normalcy in it. I was actively chasing after the ghosts of my every molestation and kept trying to relieve it.

These all spanned during the time I was being actively abused and assaulted both at home and at school.

And while these were happening, I kept actively seeking predators out online and knowing that makes me feel so repulsive. I almost got into relationships and at some point exchanged pictures. For most of them I roleplayed however they wanted and got myself taken advantage of (which obviously I take responsibility for as I was the one actively seeking out). I'd whore myself out to my crushes and past assaulter/s in hopes that they'd touch or assault me again and got disappointed when they didn't. I'm so sick, so fucking horrible, so disgusting. I can't even control myself when I am being violated and for some reason my body reacts like I like it.

I've had nightmares and dreams about things happening to me. I've considered selling myself outside and getting into stripping. At some point, I was convinced my own family members (who were also abusive) would rape me and that I'd like it because I had feelings for them so I'd try hiding myself away everytime. I've OD myself multiple times in the span of a year but instead my body refused to let go and built up a resistance. I have multiple scars from SH'ing myself almost every month and at some point got caught by my classmate when what I used had accidentally dropped out of my bag, I'd even purposely try to show it "accidentally" in hopes of getting help/attention from my teacher.

I'm so disgusting, so terribly fucking disgusting. Knowing I did this shit all for years and only stopped just a year ago makes me feel like I'm a monster myself. I've tried everything I can to stop my hypersexuality because I couldn't react to anything but my assaults. MY ASSAULTS. How much more repulsive can I get?

I'm actively avoiding it which makes it worse. My body's been conditioned to keep reacting, to keep liking it. I can't describe in physical terms just how disturbing my body has become due to abuse but its just that fucking bad. My head's been whispering terrible shitty ass fantasies to me and I hate it. I don't want it and I just feel resentment and agony knowing that I'm like this. I'm gonna get violated as I always have for years and I can't even stop that.

This is something I've been going through lately and I sadly don't have anyone to confide in nor can I ask for help. My depressive stumps are usually so extremely physically painful that I end up with a sore stomach, collapsing lungs, and a weak body that somehow trembles every single hour. I absolutely cannot eat during these times otherwise I risk sleeping with an aching stomach and being on the verge of puking. Then after these depressive episodes, I suddenly feel this burst of pure, unfiltered happiness that just starts coursing through my body and I spend days or more doing extremely risky things that get my adrenaline pumping, smiling way too widely and almost too often, and being so loud and chatty with everyone around me. It gets to a point where I could literally just be doing nothing and I can already feel it surging through my body and sucking away at my energy that I actually have a hard time breathing.

I genuinely need help solving this all out right now as all I'm doing is ruminate to no end. I feel like if I don't let any of this out, I might go insane and I just really need to tell someone. These have bundled up for I think, now over a decade.

(Please read at your own risk as this might be possibly triggering):

• Child abuse (physical, psychological, sexual).

• Grooming, assault.

> I've suspected that I may have been assaulted from when I was much younger. Starting somewhere at the age of 4-5, I'd compulsively please myself to no end, had feelings for things and everyone around me, and would do this for hours on end. I vaguely even remember rubbing myself on the adults around me and for some reason, they mainly did not care, would watch me, or just generally beat me. Similar things happened when I was about 9-11 years old, where I'd roleplay with my toys 'violating' me in some way. I remember feeling a lot of pain doing this and would itch and ache a lot from how much it hurt, especially since I'd force myself, but nonetheless I still continued. Yes, I did know these things were sexual but I didn't exactly "know" it, for me, at least in my head, I was showing 'love' to the things around me. I also had weird dreams of my dad (and possibly other men) who would kiss me and touch me in all the weird ways. I'd like to say that my dad was generally neglectful during my childhood and would mainly come home only to be violent but there were memories when I'd do this and all he'd do was watch me.

> I hypersexualized myself in front of adults for years, even in public, mainly towards my abusers. I have done something called reactive abuse and would force myself on my abusers, trying to get them to groom me back as well. I feel a lot of shame towards this as I genuinely believed I was just doing the first move and that they also wanted to do things with me.

> I have flashbacks and little snippets of memories regarding a male teacher. My first memory is of myself running outside of my classroom crying and meeting him, our conversation was pretty blurry but he basically comforted me and asked us to be friends which I readily accepted, even making a pinky promise. From then on, my memories blacked out completely and suddenly I am afraid of him. He would always come visit me outside class hours to look for me, especially in the early mornings. During these visits, I would hear his footsteps from faraway and immediately run away to hide behind the classroom door. I was genuinely so terrified and at some point, he caught me running away—his voice immediately went cold and he asked me why I was hiding to which I responded by saying I was sharpening my pencil. I can still feel his breath on my neck. I remember almost crying from the absolute fear and being unable to breath. Once, he ended up coming in without me knowing and went on to praise me in front of the class for being such a good girl while patting me in the head—I felt conflicted at this but also felt extremely loved.

I'm pretty sure I continued to avoid him for a long time but I genuinely do not know as to why I was avoiding him and what happened during that short time.

Another memory which I have no idea of the timeline of, is when I had gotten lost during school groupings and he had somehow found me crying outside. Instead of asking around for which group I was in, he brought me to his and seated me at the very back, facing him directly. I vaguely remember him smiling and just staring at me the entire time he was talking to the other kids. The last memory I have is of him telling me he was gonna be leaving this school and saying that he'd miss me. I remember feeling extremely afraid not just for myself but because I didn't want him to leave.

For years after this, I'd continue to look for him in most of my male teachers. At some point, I met a teacher who looked exactly just like him and I would proceed to get the best grades in his subject, actively try to sexualize myself, and more often than not, please him. I remember the thrill of being praised and how he'd give me special roles during programs because I was his top pupil.

> I have a very vague flashback of being seated on the lap of our school's principal, feeling very uncomfortable when he'd wrap his arms around my hips. I was basically alone with him in his office during this. I do not know if anything happened but what I do know is that his office was just right by the girl's bathroom and I'd often see him a lot.

> Another flashback of me being called to the boys' bathroom by my male classmates, the one doing this is the same boy who planned a gang assault on me during third grade. I remember him taking me there and showing me to the other boys in our class, but my memory just ends there. Everytime I try to think of it more, my head just blanks and all I can see is of a rotting bathroom with loads of grime and covered in yellow.

> I've been suspecting that my mother has also been unconsciously sexually abusing me. She would do medical checkups on me down there up until I was 12 (she didn't do this to my sister at all) and wouldn't let me shower by myself. I remember having to beg her to let me. She would also make me massage her down there, taught me how to massage my chest as a kid because it'd help it "stop hurting", and generally just a lot of other problematic stuff.

> My uncle, for some reason, enjoyed it when he'd caught me watching pornography. Mainly because he liked blackmailing me and to use it as an excuse to hurt me further. I vaguely felt like he was watching me from my room as well. This was when I was 10 years old.

> For some reason, I was desensitized to a lot of dark content for years, mainly on CSAM and rape which related to my abuse. I remember searching these kinds of things online as a child and saw absolutely no wrong in it. For me, it was gratification, affection, and my life at the same time.

I was also influenced/groomed by older friends online into watching and reading pornography. I'd also write about a lot of dark fantasies regarding what happened to me through my own characters or generally just being direct with myself but it wasn't exactly "dark" perse and I mainly saw it as some sort of romance. This stopped by the time I turned 14 as I eventually fell out of the environment I thought was normal for years, realized it was me unconsciously coping with everything that's happened by giving it a romance tag, and sobbed at my body which had been conditioned to feel things towards these stuff. In fact, seeing these kinds of content still bothers me as my body immediately starts reacting to it, and I get extremely guilty.

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It has been about 1-2 years since most of these have stopped and I have been working consistently on trying to get better. Though I am still in an abusive environment and yes, I am still actively being assaulted. I am suffering physically and have yet to receive any help as most of my abusers are lawmakers. Crazy as shit. And writing this just helped me realize why I was so deathly attached to the age difference stories as a child, I just wasted my childhood trying to relieve every single assault in every possible way.