Passion for your passion.

[ursa_major2023]

About 3 years ago I ended a pretty emotionally abusive relationship that had begun to progress to physical. I stayed a little longer than I should have because for some reason, his abuse helped me. I thought that all these years I had dealt with my past, but really I was just very good at grounding myself and bottling my emotions. He triggered a memory that I had forgotten about from my childhood, and I realized looking at all my family photos I couldn't remember any of them. My friend asked me how I could forget that I went to Orlando Studios and Disney World. I still barely remember these. I started questioning everything. Not going to lie weird things have happened my whole life. To start off, my first memory is waking to my dead grandmother next to me. I was too young to understand what was happening, but I do now. I don't even remember how old I was. Growing up, my mom was in and out of psychiatric hospitals due to her extreme depressive disorder with suicidal tendencies, and self harm behavior. This started around age 6-7. No one knew at the time, but my dad was an undiagnosed schizphrenic man who's reality had started shifting. I remember the first time it happened. I was 7 and home alone, my older brother was playing with his friend down the street. My dad came home from work and he seemed upset. I was watching Ed, Edd, and Eddy and had finished my little second grade homework, and there were not any girls that lived close to me. All the kids that did live close were older boys that were pretty rough and mean. So I spent a lot of my time alone. My dad came from his room, and started talking to me like my mom. I knew this because he called my mom hun or honey, and he called me bean. He was panicking about how untidy the house was and that me and my brother needed their mother. I started to tear up, because it was true. Looking at him I realized his eyes were not the seafoam green/blue they normally were. They were like concrete, and he was talking not the way he usually did. He got mad and snatched me out of my seat, and took me outside to the washer and dryer. He dropped me on the ground and starts telling me what a terrible mother I was, and how stupid and negligent a parent could be. I don't remember my dad EVER talking to my mom this way. He talked to me in a very childish and condescending tone showing me how to operate the knobs. He then says, "Now we put in the laundry." He picked me up and put me in the washer. He started to close the door, and I started to cry and asking him to stop. He told me to shut up, be a good mother, and wash the clothes. He pushed me down into the washer, closed the lid, and turned it on. I tried pushing the lid open when I heard the garage door shut, but it was locked. (luckily this brand of washer did not have the middle plastic piece that sticks up.) The water was rising and I started panicking and beating on the door begging someone to save me. I was holding on to the sides, but I started to get very dizzy, and my hands were slipping over the metal. I ended up throwing up and going under for a minute and hitting my head on the side as it was rolling. I get myself up, and I find a stationary spot to hang on, and I held on until the water drained and I heard the lock come undone. I went into the house, but my dad was gone. I dried off, changed my clothes, then laid in my bed so confused and scared with no one to talk about it to. This was my first very traumatic memory, that would lead to several years of more traumatice events. Between the age of 7-11 my father, brother, and brothers older friend by 2 years (so 5 years older than me) physically, emotionally, sexually, and religiously traumatized me. At age 9, at swim practice, I out swam my brothers 14 year old friend our neighbor. After practice he snatched me up, jumped in the deep end of the pool, and wouldn't let me come up for air. I was fighting as hard as I could, I even tried biting him. He didn't let go. Fortunately the coach was walking over to make sure we were all gone and to pick up trash and saved me. Later when I was at home, I hid behind our house in the woods away from my family with my imaginary friend. Well, the 14 year old neighbor started running in my direction. I left my homework and ran as fast as I could. I can feel the twigs grabbing at my face hair and clothes in this flashback. My imaginary friend helped me find a great place to hide inside of a tree. This guy also hit me over the head with a buckwheat pillow during a sleep over, and I don't know what he and my brother did while I was knocked out, but my friend was terrified in the kitchen waving a butcher knife hysterically. At the age of 11 I had an exorcism because my dad believed that what I consider my childhood imaginary friend was a demon, and he was raised Catholic. To be fair, he did look very strange and scary. After drawing him in detail as an adult, I do see where my dad worried. The priest realized I was just a traumatized little kid trying to escape the restraints, and not in fact releasing a demon. We weren't allowed back to the Church. My dad was very confused and tried to get me to tell him who hurt me. I couldn't. It was this day and this event that shocked me into silence. For a very long time. After this, my parents lost their house, and my brother and I were separated shifted from family member to family member with little contact from my parents, but also no adult direction either. I finally made it to an aunt and uncle's house that really tried to help, and taught me what the love of parents was supposed to be. Then my parents showed up, took me home to a 2 bedroom apartment, and I was forced to share a room with my brother. At this point I was angry. No one acknowledged anything, and just decided to start the relationship over avoiding accountability. The emotional and partial phyical abuse continued still. My drug usage got so much worse. At the age of 15 living with my abusers and constantly being triggered and walking on eggshells with no outlet because my journals were read and gone through, my computer and documents were gone through, my art was ridiculed. I had shut down my emotions to protect myself, and sat in the longest numb stage I knew. I decided that I didn't want to be here anymore. I took 3 months supply of each Geodon and Vivanse, and then went to tell my mom good bye. I'm still here, luckily no permanent damage was done. I fell in love at 18, and by 21 my boyfriend was lied to, and he and several other men sexually assaulted me. A pregnancy occured, but I was overworking myself and lost the baby due to many reasons. I didn't feel like I could tell my family, and my doctor refused to run any tests because I did not file a police report. I have so many more traumatic memories, but I have typed quite a bit already. So I have gone to therapy, and recieved help. I couldn't find a doctor or therapist I liked, so I started using the techniques I was taught, as well as started doing my own research. For the past 3 years I have recently started processing the first 22 years of my life, and the next 6 years would be what woke me up from it all. I guess what I am currently struggling with is how hollow I feel when I do anything. I feel like I've tried just about everything trying to find my passion, and I've lost my passion for finding my passion........I used to find happiness in helping those that were struggling or disabled, but my friend who is the reason I am sharing this told me even the therapist needs a therapist. That really hurt, because all these years I've really just been my own therapist as well as for others because I wanted to show them the decency and human compassion I wanted,