I am now 25 years old. I rarely leave my room. In fact, I can barely get up out of my bed. I have been like this for about 10 years now. Since birth, my entire life has been a series of traumatic events. The only way I can deal with any of this is with heroin. People always say there is a rock bottom. Not for me. I learned when I was 19, there is no such thing as rock bottom, because when you think things cannot possibly get worse, for me they do. Everytime I think there is nothing that can traumatize me more than I already have been, something I never even thought of happening, happens. Most recently, I got necrotizing fasciitis in both of my legs from injecting. I was too scared to go to the doctors, so it got worse and worse until I was rushed to the hospital, and my legs were almost amputated. Luckily, my doctors saved them, but they are extremely deformed now. The perfect cherry on top of my hell.
Dealing with my legs has been a cake walk. I spent 5 months in the hospital, I was off of heroin for the first time in 10 years, not by choice. And the pain medication they had me on,though a high dose, was not enough. So my every 3 day wound vaccuum changes were so excruciating, they would take 5 hours to take it off. Anyways, before my legs, I had an abortion I didn’t want when I was 22. And that was somehow worse than my second rape at the age of 19, which wasn’t as bad as the first time I was raped, the day my life ended, at the age of 16. Before the age of 16, I grew up in a constantly physically and mentally abusive household. Now these are just the main points of my life, I say that because I don’t know how to not make this post into a book. So I’m sorry if it’s too much for one post, I don’t know how this works.
I don’t really feel like explaining the terrible person that my father is, because I’m still under his hold, though not physically anymore, but the worst things he did are so complex, I don’t want to get into them at this moment, because that will need it’s own post. The only story I really want to fully tell in my first post, is that of my first rape, and how it effected me.
By the time I was 16, I had been smoking cigarettes for 5 years, smoking weed for about 2-3, and was becoming mildly addicted to hydrocodone. I was cutting myself at the age of 10, and had severe sleep issues around the same age, still do. Now at this point in my life, I obviously still had the will to live. I kept thinking I would be strong enough to pull myself out of my hell and rise out of the ashes. And maybe if New Year’s Eve never happened that year, I could have. But that was the day two men stole my soul and my sanity....
I will finish the story in another post, since this one only has a few characters left! #PTSD #Trauma #rapevictim #Addiction #dysfunctional #dissassociativedisorder #DepersonalizationDisorder #CPTSD #HeroinAddiction #MentalIllness #MeToo
I’m not sure the best hashtags to use to get my story out there.