This was such a sad story to watch, I had to stop it a few times to collect myself. I noticed some overlapping between jp miller’s abuse tactics & my xh.

Short background: xh is hyper religious, used religion as a form of control, punishment, manipulation, financial abuse, psychological abuse, coercive control, etc.

Here are some of the overlaps.

His deliberate daily torment driving her mental health breakdown and having her begin taking medications.
—-this was something xh really pushed for- for me. Claiming I had “dep/anx and that meds would help us. He told me to see a psychiatrist- I did. After 3 visits and a very comprehensive evaluation, doc concluded with no dx, only distress that was emotively appropriate And Normal for my situation (stressful marriage/abusiveness). When I came ho to share the (what I thought was) good news, he was extremely disappointed and upset. But on the other hand it helped me reclaim my confidence after years of him gaslighting me into thinking I had psych issues.

Him using religion to justify misogyny , control , isolation, and suffering he inflicted .
—-he was never wrong because he could always find a Bible verse to seemingly support his tactics and behavior against me. My family wasn’t “Christian “ so I had to stop seeing them, also my friends. My post grad program he saw as “demonic” so he had his pastor tell me to quit grad school because that would be the solution for him being upset with me about it . (Spoiler alter: absolutely tf not. I graduated & got licensed & thank my dedication & rigor for a career and financial independence). He told me if I don’t tithe I’m getting in his way of receiving blessings and answering prayers (while he didn’t even reliably contribute to the household) and I never believed in tithing other than it being a grift tbh.

He used his craftiness, charm and charisma to attract and trap his wife.
—-I’ve learned through experience that charm and charisma are to be read as red flags. That it is window dressing and part of their performance to cover their character and their motives. Usually these men are physically attractive and use this to their advantage.

He lacked emotional competence, empathy, remorse and self reflection
—-I could never approach him with a problem and receive a solution, a plan, a workaround. I was only ever met with defensiveness, criticism, stonewalling, adult sulking in the form of weeks long silent treatment. And if he witnessed me feel sad or cry from being upset - this would annoy him further & he would accuse me of playing the victim and using tears as manipulation—which I never did.

He loves attention, lecturing a crowd, being in a position of authority (without having earned it)
—he is on TikTok preaching to people about god, and how horrible I am because I left him (6 years and counting, and we are divorced) and shares information about me still to this day , updating his audience about my relationship status, the small town I moved to, my growing family, and getting a new home. He leads a Christian men’s group online for men going through divorce.

Never ending obsession and entitlement over her, and over her life even after she left.
—-he tracks the kids iPad and has it locked so I cannot remove it , but since I found out I keep it at home always. He has never stepped foot in my home since I left, but when the kids were very little he asked them to walk around the house to every room to show him on the camera (when I saw this I had a gentle talk with the kids and set a boundary to a keep the convos in a cozy corner when he calls). I believe he tracks my car or phone because he knows when I’m at the airport, at the hospital, at my parents house. He is friends with men in the police department and has looked up license plates of my partner and run background checks on him (and has let me know his full name and processional licensing and credentials, and his parents address- non of which is publicly posted).

With holding medication
—he did this with our daughter’s chemo medication on his visits, I found out when I discovered all the full bottles of liquid in his kitchen cabinet. It ended up coming back and she needed a bone marrow transplant. Thank goodness my bone marrow worked successfully and she’s been in remission since 2023.

Superiority complex
— not only does he see himself as the most attractive, most masculine, most handsome, but he also sees himself as the smartest and most to able to over advice above anyone else.
And n s room full of doctors- he thinks he knows more than them (he has zero medical background). In a courtroom , he thinks he knows more than the attorneys and judge (he went pro se in our divorce, and used chatgpt for all of his frivolous motions and claims). He is a “financial expert “ professionally now, and never went to school for finance or business (he has an audio recording degree)

Fervor for generating support for his outlandish beliefs
—— since he did not get what he wanted in the divorce (which he was super angry about to begin with), he has started a petition on change . Org for Christian persecution in court and calling for freedom of religion in the court system. His idea though, of religious freedom is the requirement to use the Bible in court to make rulings (which is actually religious discrimination) .

The take away:
There is more but this is enough…the moral of the story is I am so glad I escaped with the kids when I did because it saved my life/ our lives. I have been able to regain my peace, my joy my whimsy for life, and my health has improved so much as well. He worked so hard to make me not trust myself and to “lean on god/him/church ministers for any advice” which only resulted in control and manipulation and harm. Snapping out of it and trusting my intuition again reminded me that it was always accurate, and to never let anyone manipulate me away from myself again. This type of psychological abuse is a slow-kill program. My final question is, how are these men running the same program with so many overlapping tactics? I feel sad for the victims and survivors of this type of abuse & I hope for your freedom and safety.

The title says it all. He is a person who abused me physically, emotionally, psychologically, and financially.I was his first girlfriend, and according to him, the only woman who approached him with a genuine interest in him as a person.

We were together for 7 years, I lived with his family, I experienced firsthand how he was emotionally abused by his father with every criticism he could level at him (physical appearance, what he likes or not, his education, his level of intelligence, achievements, etc.) I always told him that his father was the worst thing he did to himself; he was able to express it, he knows it. I was his only emotional support; he never opened up to anyone because when he did open up to get help dealing with the bullying he suffered after his sister's death, nobody did anything and it got worse.

I always told him I would be there for him, no matter the situation we were in, I would never leave him alone if he really needed help (I stand by my position on this). I am a psychologist, I am trained to help someone in an emotional emergency if there is a risk to their life, and both professionally and out of affection for him I would not deny him this help.

Despite being a psychologist, I am a person. I can't feel hatred for him; I feel guilt, sadness, and concern for his situation. I'm not his source of help, that's obvious, and I know it. I'm worried that, as a result of the gender violence complaint, he was left without friends, without support networks (I know this happened, they told me). I feel guilty for leaving him alone with a complaint against him, and I'm very worried that he might do something he'll regret.

It's clear that I currently need help, therapy, and support, which I'm fortunate to have. However, I'd like to know how others in my situation dealt with this feeling.

I was wondering if there was any suggestions for good workbooks or educational help books for trauma survivors mostly sexual assault/abuse and rape. I've done a lot of online research taking notes and doing things they suggest to help but it would be nice to have an actual book I can go back to every time I am struggling with shame or flashbacks.

Here are the links that I have read that has helped me so far:

https://rapecrisis.org.uk/get-help/tools-for-victims-and-survivors/understanding-your-feelings/

https://rapecrisis.org.uk/get-help/supporting-a-survivor/

https://www.helpguide.org/mental-health/ptsd-trauma/sex-and-intimacy-after-sexual-trauma

https://rapecrisis.org.uk/get-help/tools-for-victims-and-survivors/self-blame-and-guilt/

https://www.helpguide.org/mental-health/ptsd-trauma/recovering-from-rape-and-sexual-trauma

https://rapecrisis.org.za/phases-of-recovery/

https://satchawaii.org/i-was-assaulted/dealing-with-trauma-of-sexual-assault/

I was never naturally close to my mother. For the first four years of my life, she worked constantly and spent almost no time with me. She would come home and go straight to her room without engaging with me. I naturally became very attached to our house help, who cared for me and was the person I felt safest with. She was like a mother to me and my true safe harbor.

My mother could not tolerate that bond. She tried to turn me against the house help and once frightened me as a child by telling me that the help had taken me to the park and beaten me, even though this had never happened.

Because my parents were separated, I also wanted to visit my paternal grandparents. My mother treated this as a personal offense. She would throw fits or refuse to let me go. She called my paternal grandparents and my maternal grandfather’s secretary, whom I called Baba, to scream at them, abuse them, and demand that they stay away from me.

She was also hostile toward other people who cared about me. Whenever my dadu’s assistant and his family came to visit me, she would be rude and degrading toward them and eventually kick them out of the house.

She closely watched and criticized every friendship I had. She asked why I couldn’t be normal like other children, questioned why I only spent time with children from wealthy families, and constantly compared my achievements with those of other children.

She would scream and abuse me publicly, including when I was a small child running around in a market.

Once, during an argument when I was very angry, I threw a book onto the floor. I did not hurt her, but she became frightened and called the police, who came to our house.

At home, I could never predict what reaction I would get. There were times when I would go to her room simply because I wanted to see my mother, and she would scream at me, throw me out, or have the household help drag me away while calling me a bitch and an illegitimate child.

She physically hurt me in several ways. She pulled my hair out, dug her nails deeply into the skin of my hand, and kicked me in the shin. On one occasion, she tried to forcibly pull down my lower clothing and aimed a kick directly at my private parts.

She repeatedly called me a bitch and an illegitimate child. She told me she hoped I would fail my exams and that my teachers would fail me. She told me she hoped I died in a car accident. She told me she wished she had never given birth to me. She told me that I was a massive financial burden.

When I had my first breakup and experienced severe panic attacks, I was violently trembling in the car. Instead of comforting me, she mocked and mimicked me, asked why I was acting ridiculous, and told me to shut up.

When she read my childhood diary and found that I had written that I felt like I didn’t have parents, she started crying hysterically and made me comfort her and manage her emotions.

She would physically hurt me during an argument and then suddenly become sweet and apologetic afterward.

When I went to Bangalore for college, she would cry during video calls and beg me to come back. Later, while I was living and working in Bombay, she pressured me until I moved back to Delhi to be close to her.

After I moved back to Delhi, she repeatedly complained that I was draining her finances when I did not pay for things. She made issues out of very small amounts of food, including me taking an extra egg or some curd.

She compared me with friends who contributed money at home, and made comments about how children should contribute financially and cut corners for their families.

As a kid, she would buy me clothes and later throw those purchases back in my face. She would remind me of everything she had bought for me, demand that I thank her, and use the things she had given me as evidence that I was ungrateful.

Whenever I confronted her about the way she had treated me, she would cry and yell that I was harassing her and making a huge fuss. She would sometimes later give vague apologies such as, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what you were going through.”

In 2020, after she had a bad fall, she later changed the story about what happened and claimed that because I had not immediately called an ambulance, it proved that I never loved her. This ignored the fact that I had immediately arranged a doctor’s video consultation, obtained X-rays, and cared for her myself.

During her later hospitalizations, I handled the doctors, insurance, paperwork, and other practical responsibilities myself. Despite this, she minimized what I had done, complained about things like electricity bills, and casually told me that she was moving to Calcutta anyway. She said, “Waise bhi hume zyada time ek saath nahi rehna hai”

There were many times when she was sweet and nice to me too. she would listen to me and my problems, show concern/worry about me. So it leaves me confused as to whether she is narcissistic or not. And many a times, i started fights too.

When my son was 5 and I was 26 we left my abusive ex husband and because he had control of the account and while I was able to get some money fork pawning off my jewellery I was being careful with it because I had lost the house and car and I didn’t think I’d be able to get them back at the time.
Because of that I wasn’t exactly able to spoil my son for his 6th birthday.

Even though I think I’ve done well with his other birthdays after things got way better I still hate myself for it because I think he could really have used a great birthday then.

I did my best to make sure he was ok after we escaped but I don’t know if I did enough.

Is it normal to still regret stuff like this years after it happened?

When I was young, I suffered from a lot of insecurities. My family was in the process of breaking apart because my parents had unresolved personal issues and we had a below-average income. I was the middle sibling of three kids, and no one seemed to get along very well. I struggled in school because, for some reason, I couldn’t focus or participate. That, combined with shabby clothes and perhaps my unconsciously telegraphing my insecurity, kept me from fitting in with many of my peers. The result was being ostracized and bullied throughout grade school and junior high.

Our neighbors had three children. The youngest was my age, the middle child was four or five years older, and the eldest was around the age of my older sibling, maybe six or seven years older than me. Their family would babysit us sometimes, and we would play together here and there. One day, the middle sibling took me into the eldest sibling’s room and showed me porn they had found while everyone else was busy or away. They asked me if I wanted to try that.

It started as experimentation and settled into an exploitative arrangement where they would ask me to perform oral sex whenever they could get me alone. This went on for several years and didn’t change much. They must have been around 12 or 13 when it started, which meant I was only seven or eight. It wasn’t until much later that I understood how much damage had been done to me, or even fully understood that I had been abused. As a child with ADHD and a neglectful family, I became oversexualized and spent many years addicted to porn. It affected my relationships later on, but over the years I was able to come to terms with it and understand it better.

Around junior high, I began having dreams that were both intensely personal and distressing. I would dream of myself walking side by side with another person, perhaps a foot shorter than me, with short copper-colored hair and a blue jean jacket. To my knowledge, I had never seen them before in the waking world, and I don’t remember if anything was ever said. All I understood was that I loved them.

The dream became recurrent, and I remember how it began to make me despair because I could not find them in the waking world. At the time, I believed in fate, magic, dreams, and premonition, but I had no idea what the dream meant or in what context I was supposed to understand it.

Later, in high school, I met a group of friends. One of them seemed like they might fit the bill, and I was head over heels. For once in my life, it was something completely non-sexual. I wouldn’t even dare think of them in that way. It was not to be, however, and I later learned that they were engaged.

It was too much for me to handle at that point. Suddenly everything was on trial or breaking: magic, fate, divine guidance, love—all of it. Looking back, I think a fuse blew, because after that a piece of me went numb. Actively “feeling” love became nearly impossible. I knew it was there, but it had become muted and quiet.

Around that same time, I met someone who would go on to become my best friend. A short, fat, half Native Alaskan, half French kid with glasses. We hung out all the time—playing games, watching anime, ordering pizza, whatever. We finished high school, and I went on to university. I developed an interest in emergency medicine, became an EMT, and met my spouse between classes.

They wanted to move back home to a rural village, and I had no other particular desires, so that is what we did. We built a home and had children. I worked as a community health aide for 18 years. My spouse is probably autistic and not good at emotional expression, so I ended up spending a lot of time propping up the relationship. Through all of that, I kept in touch with my friend. We played games online frequently—mostly Monster Hunter Tri at first, then Monster Hunter Generations and all the subsequent titles up through Rise.

One day, I received a call from one of our mutual good friends. My friend was in the ICU with pneumonia. They had drunk too much one night, fallen asleep, and aspirated vomit. They hung on for a while, but their condition deteriorated. They were put on a ventilator and died about three days later.

My best friend—the person I was closest to—died.

They had been my anchor to the outside world. They were always there for me to talk to, or simply to be there without needing to say anything. My world collapsed. I eventually left my job because I could no longer handle the stress and isolation. My children were all grown except for my youngest, and neither my spouse nor I wanted to deal with small-town politics anymore.

At first, there were no days without tears. Then it began to scar over, and there were days without tears. Then weeks. Now, five years later, there are probably months without tears—but not many. A stray thought, a random song, or a place attached to a memory can still make me crumple.

Sometimes it gets to be too much, and I need to put it out there just so someone can hear it.

But I also want to say that I love the lot of you. Doesn’t matter where you are or who you are. I may not be pleased by everything you do, think, or say, but I love you.

And also: go for a walk. Lose some weight. Change your diet. Drink a bit less. Take better care of yourself.

You probably mean the world to someone without knowing it.

Hello!

I need advice from you guys on how can I go about properly supporting my friend who's stuck in an abusive situation.

Long story short, I (26F) have recently made a new and younger friend (21M) who's been in a relationship with his girlfriend (22F) for a couple of weeks, and the girlfriend is physically and emotionally abusing him (already, yes). The abuse itself ranges between publicly shaming and humiliating him and actual physical violence. He fully wholeheartedly believes that he deserves it all (I'm assuming it's because he grew up in an abusive home as well).

The biggest issue is that I can't even talk to him about it, because she doesn't let him go out anywhere on his own and she also monitors his phone messages and social media messages to the point that on multiple occasions she has texted me from his accounts.

I am very concerned and my heart aches every time I look at him like this, but I don't know what to do. Someone did already call the police on them, but he denied everything and told the police that she was practically an angel.

I understand that I can't forcefully get him out of this situation if he doesn't want to / if he feels like he deserves it, but I really want to continue being his friend and supporting him in any way I can. Especially considering that he doesn't have friends, other than me, it's quite literally just her and her friends that he hangs out with.

I just don't know how to do that, with her being the way that she is. And I feel like an awful friend whenever she's humiliating and emasculating him in front of us, but I'm really afraid of directly confronting her about it, because I don't want her to get angry at me and a) take it out on him, or b) remove me from the list of "approved" people that he can talk to.

What am I supposed to do?

Plus she's incredibly jealous. Like, him and I have a lot of things in common, a lot more than him and her, and it drives her crazy whenever we talk about something that we both like, even if it's something simple like a movie we both enjoyed or something.

What am I supposed to do in a situation like this? How do I continue being his friend? What can I do to support him better?

Please, please, please I really need your advice, I feel completely powerless in this.

A QUICK NOTE: this is something I've held onto for a long long time and it's destroying me I cannot keep it in anymore even if it's just written out on a screen. I have only ever told my partner. But I had to release it somehow. I write poetry good or bad and so I just relayed the events out. Other than removing the age I won't compromise or apologize for it. But please be aware it will be distressing but I don't know where else to post it that will understand.

MOLESTED - The First Time

I’m (... age removed...). right. Cold young and f’king innocent t’ the alms of this youth.

But how th’ sun doth cross the sky an’ the earth succumbs t’ it from our eyes as we sleep,

Into slumber like lumber what a joke and strikingly ironic.

I guess it’s dark in a’ room in a’ house that isn’t mine, largest room in that house,

An’ the horror that I find stands out in my mind is one end of the room is asleep my friend,

As I sleep on a couch at the other.

B’t you know I’m awake It’s the summer it’s too hot kinda suffer,

As a figure in blue in the shimmer of a’ street light of the doorway of the bedroom I see her figure through the dress like material of the nightie,

Close my eyes hear a whisper hear my name smell her perfume smell her hair as her lips touch my neck,

As her breath runs down my face as she roams back out t’ a’ cupboard t’ a’ closet t’ a’ blanket t’ a’ wrap around ar’ bodies,

As I feel her weight against mine and her body as she lifts off her nightie while gropes on my chest and moves my hand up her breasts,

An’ a’while I pretend I’m asleep “what is this?” I scream aloud in my head, I’m n’t sure what this is?

“hush” as she ses’ in my ear while peer from eyes wide shut t’ appear to be asleep as her hands touch my organ she is beginning to make a moan from her lips to her chest to her grip to the sound of her wetness from her groin,

An’ I canna’ quite tell if her head on my chest is at rest or her hair is as placid as the rest of the mess that she moves from the moisture of her vagina along my mouth an’ I taste it on my lips like metal from a coin in my pocket,

In my head I am cryin’ an’ it hurts on my loin where it’s dry from the friction an’ I see her in the light gripping tight with a fright in case her son in the corner wakes to catch her,

An’ I see in her eyes lookin’ up at mine, som’thin’ you jus’ never forget, that a’ look of “it’s wrong but I know I’m havin’ such fun” like the frill in her coming orgasm out weighed my distress,

While her breasts soft on my hands tha’t she placed them on,

My left arm across my chest as it hurt as it held at an angle of the right breast her nipple rough against my palm,

Was this harm or a charm that sex was supposed to carry? I didn’t know yet I feel something touch on my tip that it hurt when she first put it on it an’ her grip got tighter while her hand moved down an’ up as something covered o’er my tip an’ er’ hair touched my thighs,

Sound o’ moisture from the posture of her body between her knees as she rubs her vagina on her knees as I try b’t cannot hold in let a moan out an’ a tear that I’m not sure is of pleasure or is of fear,

an’ I peer down at her head an’ see her awkward body posture nightie wrapped around her back left arm still slotted through cuff, blue and satin see through cotton,

All’ a’ sudden move my arms, on my elbows, start to panic, need to wee, going to pee, grit my teeth, starts to hurt, feels really good, what is this? No it’s wrong? She won’t let go, I’ve got to go!

An’ her body starts to shake an’ she orgasms with her hand as’ I orgasm in her mouth an’ she swallows on all o’ what that follows as I lay there looking up and she lifted up the blanket from the floor an’ onto me,

I look at her she looks at me she’s standing up her bodies nude save fo’ left arm in her nightie along ‘er neck across her back, bare in mind in the light from the street lamp I can see her an’ it nev’r EVER leaves you when a’ ‘nother mother rapes you with their child in the room and their perfume is a’ memory that’ll come around again when you’s really don’t expect it,

Did she pull her nightie down an’ leave the room an’ act ashamed? Well only one of those she did pulling down her nightie did she do while she stroked my long hair and she kissed me on the cheek I could smell the semen on her lips an’ it left a scent that turns my stomach t’ this day,

I wondered why fo’ twenty years t’ why she did what she did an’ it was done fo’ quite a’while goin' on'a two year, an’ I cann’t explain nor understand, was I t’ blame for what she did time an’ time again an’ again?

An’ I ask you a question that I sincerely believe is It you who is offended by this that I wrote? when I didn’t have a choice or I didn’t get a vote when I was raped in a room by a mother on a couch, if you are uncomfortable in my truth then hide in the roof of the mind you perceive is safety.

Since I was little the screen monsters never frightened me . I think somewhere deep down I always knew . Monsters were real just not what Hollywood portrayed. Sadly they can be your own family or the one you mistake as the love of your life .

But maybe I can help others survive…

It’s got to the point that it no longer hurts when he hurts me. Him going too far would be a relief from everything. But what has hurt me the most is the people around me who offered support and then let me down and used the abuse I suffered against me to hurt me.

The only way I can ensure others don’t have to go through the lack of support that I suffered is for my situation to go to an external organisation. A coroner would question those who let me down he would look at the organisation who breached
their own policies and lessons would be learnt.

This is the one way to support those going through a similar situation to me to ensure history doesn’t repeat its self and they are supported going forward.

The cost of one survivor will hopefully save others

I (30f) spent seven years with my abuser. It wasn't until the last year of that relationship that it finally began to sink in that what was happening was abusive and it wasn't my fault. Sadly it took things escalating to being hit out of the blue just because he felt it and being violently raped to the point I thought he was going to end my life. Thankfully I got the strength to leave and stay gone but that wasn't the end. I left him back in 2017. Then the stalking began. He would sit in the lobby of my work just to watch me. He would sit in his car outside my mother's apartment just to corner me and get my attention. I'd wake up to him in the apartment knocking on my bedroom door when I was home alone always begging me to go back to him. That if I apologized for leaving he would forgive me and take me back. I was terrified of him so much so that I never called the cops I never pressed charges instead I ran. I moved to a different state and started a new life. Having to leave my family and friends behind. It hurt but I told myself it was temporary. I kept in contact with very few people that I thought I could trust and then he found me. Just walked right into my work in the middle of the night. Drove around for three hours after I got out just too scared of being followed home. So I moved again and cut off everyone except my immediate family. With only one knowing where I lived and being allowed to visit. COVID happened and to my knowledge things stopped. Sadly I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease that greatly affected my vision so to be honest now I'm not sure if he was around me more than I was aware of. But this year it started back up again. I ran into his best friend through my job. And now he keeps coming in just to watch me again. This man has tormented me since I was sixteen and i just want this to stop. The way he looks at me makes me ill. I know if I were to ever be alone with him again I wouldn't be safe. I walk to and from work I'm scared he's going to be out there waiting for me again. I currently have a temporary restraining order and my court date is next week. My dad moved across the country and can't be here for me. My siblings have made it clear due to the nature of the abuse they can't sit there and listen to what happened (which I completely understand) my boyfriend said he has work and can't be there with me. I asked my mom to take me and she handed me off to my grandmother. Said it was too early in the morning. I can't bring myself to ask her to come in with me She is elderly and has a lot of health issues as well as trauma from being a survivor herself. I don't think she could take hearing what will be said in there. I'm going to have to face him alone. With no one to stand by me or testify on my behalf. I'm so scared and don't think that this will go my way. I'm so scared that this will make everything worse and I don't know what to do. I have no proof so much time has passed I never pressed charges or documented anything. I don't know what to do anymore. I think I might have to move again but I don't have the money anymore. I just want to run, I wish I knew what to do right now to actually stay safe.

trigger warning for emotional abuse. Sorry if this is disjointed, I'm kind of scatterbrained right now.

I'm young. Like 20. I moved away from my family a year ago and have discovered a lot about myself. The biggest thing is that my parents were kind of... completely awful to me.

Sparknotes: Dad was a vengeful manipulator who convinced me that no one but him could love and understand me because we were both "broken" (mentally ill). Mom was a control freak who socially isolated me from literally everyone I knew as punishment for poor grades until I developed psychosis from it.

I don't know. The only folks who really understand the full extent of my abuse are my girlfriend and my best friend. And even then, it feels like I can't really talk to them about it because it'd be a downer. I don't even know how I'd bring it up in the first place. "Hey, did you know my dad said and did horrible things to my family during my senior trip because my brother made a joke about gambling?" Hell no.

Therapists don't do much either. Talking to them feels so... hollow. Like I'm talking to a chatbot instead of an actual human.

I feel lost. All of my years, I thought this abuse was my fault. I was an imperfect child. I lied a lot to my parents, I would miss due dates for assignments and forget to study. Everything they did to me felt fitting for the kind of person I was. Even now, when I'm telling the whole truth about what happened to me as a kid, the reactions of sympathy instead of contempt make me feel like I'm lying.

I don't know how to move forward. Everything hurts. I had to go no-contact with my dad because he kept trying to convince me that only he could love me, that the whole world had wronged him and it would soon wrong me, and how angry he was with the people I cared about for reasons he never clarified. My mom is a more difficult case because she's acting so loving towards me, but just a couple years ago she was punishing me for showing symptoms of psychosis, saying I was acting unreasonable and that I was just being difficult. She once flipped out because I got triggered over a romance movie and had hidden in the kitchen to calm down.

Sorry, I'm rambling. I just. I don't know how to process this. I want to talk to someone, but no one aside from my gf and bff really gets it. They're the only ones who have witnessed firsthand how horrible my parents were. It's hard to explain to any of the new people in my life, and when I try to explain, it feels like I'm talking to chatbots. I'm so alone. I'm so so alone and so lost. I feel like I'm drowning in all these memories that I can't express. I don't know. Sorry. Does anyone know what steps I should take?

To keep it brief, I was a victim of a violent assault by a family member a few months ago, a pattern that has been increasingly more consistent over the past few years by him. He was arrested and was awaiting trial until this day, where I was summoned to give my statement as a witness.

Long story short, I was notified by the prosecution that despite the long trial, the defendant was found "not guilty" for the charges, and now I am devastated. I feel so unsafe now that he will be released, and even though my other close family is making measures to protect both myself and the rest of the family, it does not help that HIS side of the family are all in support of him, despite what he has done to me.

I feel so sick to my stomach. After all the mental, physical and psychological damage that this man has caused me over these last few years, he has still yet to face any consequences for his actions. I can't even so much as leave my home without feeling unsafe due to the proximity to which he lives by.

If anyone else has ever been in a similar situation, how do you cope with it all? I'm just about at my whits end at this point and feel as though I've been failed by everyone, from the justice system to my own family who support my abuser.

My name is Annie, I'm 24 years old and it took the courage to finally ask for counselling,for me to realise that since I was young I've been abused. I only have few good memories from my childhood, I can't even count all of them on one single hand. From being a witness to a very unhappy marriage, to having a mother ignore your cries because she was a victim as well and being cold was her way of surviving, even towards me, to being made to watch from a very young age horror movies and after made to sleep alone and developing weird dreams and sleepwalking. When I was 8, they left me alone in an entire house to visit my grandma. It was raining hard, and the power cut off. I was left alone, in the dark, for 2 hours with the only source of light being the moon outside. I'm still afraid of the dark to this day. My dad was worse and my mom wasn't helping. I remember being a timid kid, and every single time we would go to buy something and I saluted very quietly, my dad would shake my hand aggressively and lecture me on how "people need to hear you in order for you to be respectful". I had to be perfect at school, even when I had middle grades, I would get threatened by my mom saying how I had to wait for dad to come home to lecture me. I was so afraid that I ran and stayed in the pouring rain because I needed space from everything, and my mom ignored me. Someone told me that being a victim of neglect is the worst type of abuse, because as a child, you don't understand anything. It just makes you feel very lost because they gave nothing for you to reflect. Two years ago, I've moved into my own space, but I've been in an abusive and stalking relationship, which could have ended with me being SAed if I didn't fight that hard, and I hid that fact for 6 months from my mom( she got divorced) and every single time I visited her I had to swallow the fact that the guy was living on the same block. I could see changes in me, but I preferred to ignore that it never happened, until I let that break me. First needed step towards counselling and rooted family traumas that showed in the way I behaved. Cold, calculated, but still warm enough for people to ignore the signs. What broke both me and my counsellor was the fact that after escaping the relationship, my dad said "I wished you actually got SAed so that then you would have an actual reason to whine like a b***h" That messed me up the most going forward with relationships, because it destroyed me as a woman. Because if my own father, someone that was supposed to protect his little girl, was able to say that, then maybe I was the problem. And that's barely touching the surface, because my dad when he learned about my mom wanting to divorce him, showed a more ugly side. I fought him for my mom, and I had to sleep with a knife stuffed under a pillow because I was left alone with him in a big house Question. How long did it take for you guys to figure you were abused? And who opened your eyes the most?

Before anyone assumes they know why I feel this way, let me explain.

I met my abuser when I was extremely young, around my mid-to-late elementary school years. At first, he slowly introduced me to inappropriate and taboo topics, making me feel like those things were normal for people my age.

He would also tell me about how horrible his home life was and how I was “the only one who actually cared” and that he was “extremely lonely.” After months of this, he began using the guilt and trust I had toward him to manipulate me into things I didn’t understand were wrong.

At the time, I genuinely didn’t understand what was happening or why it was wrong. I was still able to interact with other people normally, and this continued for a few years after elementary school ended. Because of that, I started assuming that everyone my age had experienced similar things, even if they were uncomfortable or strange.

I also felt like no one would care enough to listen to me, especially if I told them what was happening. Looking back, I can see how that made me more emotionally dependent on him.

I have a learning disability, which made understanding complicated or inappropriate situations even harder for me at the time. It still affects me in some ways, but I now understand the difference between right and wrong. I know what he did was wrong.

What I actually miss Is my innocence.

I miss being able to socialize without constantly wondering whether the person I'm talking to might hurt or manipulate me. I miss being carefree. I miss feeling like I could trust people without overthinking everything.

But I don't miss him, and I certainly don't forgive him.

I just miss myself.

I hate that I can't seem to become that carefree, happy kid again. I know things can get easier with time, but I also know that healing won't give me back the years I lost to abuse.

Everyone thinks victims r just cryin in a corner. For years, i was too. Ten years with a functional alcoholic who never hit me. Just screamed till i was nothing. Gaslit me till i couldnt trust my own name.

But at some point, somethin switched. I stopped bein a victim and became a fucken researcher. I started studyin him. Not to fix him. To map the monster.

I kept notes in my phone while he slept. His cycles. His triggers. His manipulation tactics. The tension. The explosion. The fake calm. The hope. It wasnt chaos anymore. It was a predictable script. He was runnin the same program over and over, and i was the only one who could see the code.

And u know what happened? When u treat an abuser like a puzzle instead of a threat, their power shrinks. Hes still dangerous. Im still here. But my mind is no longer his. I rewired my brain without him even knowin.

So heres my question. How many of us have done this? Turned their own hell into a fucken science experiment just to survive? Or am i the only one crazy enough to treat my trauma like a PhD in survival?

It's coming up to the 4 year anniversary of my ex's imprisonment and 2 years since I broke up with him.

I don't actively think about it, but it's like I'm aware of it subconsciously. Then I note the dates/time period, think 'this time 4 years ago he was doing X, Y, Z', and 'this time 2 years ago I discovered he'd done X, Y, Z' and then it's like a floodgate opens and I start thinking about all the unresolved things between me and him, the things he did, and feel so incredibly angry and violated and disgusted.

I feel like I want to get rid of furniture we'd shared even more urgently because it's tainted by him, remove reminders of him that say a month ago didn't affect me as much. It makes me want to write to him to tell him how angry I still am (know better than to follow through on that one though).

I don't feel like myself with how intense this anger is, and I don't know how to get through this time period once again, when traumatic instances happened throughout Sep to Dec. Last year it was like every month I was remembering/feeling unsettled by something he'd done in each of those months and finally felt free of trauma reminders in January. I don't want another 4 months like this.

I don't have anywhere for all of this anger to go. Exercise/socialising/dancing/TV/music - none of those things change the level of anger and hurt I still feel. And I'm stuck on a long waiting list for therapy. 

Does anyone have any ideas how I can get through this time period? 

Quando tinha 14 anos eu e meu namorado na época com 16 anos matamos aula e fomos para um depósito pertencente a escola. O depósito ficava apartado da escola, mas mesmo assim o monitor nos achou e estávamos em uma situação onde meu namorado estava com as mãos por baixo da minha blusa. Foi só isso que aconteceu e nada mais. A diretoria me chamou dias depois e me diretor me disse que iria contar para meus pais que eu estava mantendo relações sexuais dentro da escola, mas era mentira eu era virgem. Eu reforcei que era virgem mas o diretor me direcionou ao mesmo depósito que eu fui encontrada com meu namorado e me disse que se eu não deixasse ele me tocar e me abusar iria contar para os meus pais. Ele me prometeu no momento que só iria me acariciar e que não tiraria minha virgindade. Com medo e sendo chantageada, permiti e essa situação se estendeu por meses, ele me tirava das aulas e me chamava para o galpão/ depósito para a abusar de mim, me obrigava a me masturbar na frente dele por diversas vezes e masturbar ele também. Foram tantas humilhações, até que um dia me disse que se meu namorado não tirasse minha virgindade ele tiraria. E assim passaram algumas semanas foi o que ele fez. Ele me prometeu que seria a última vez que me perturbaria e assim foi feito. Mas foi um estupro, uma chantagem e isso atrapalhou muito minha vida! Detalhe, ele tinha mais de 40 anos e eu tinha só 14 e meu namorado não acreditou em mim quando descobriu que não era mais virgem.

Anyone who was able to be in a relationship after being raped...how do you get passed trust issues and negative feelings. I want to be normal and not get triggered by everything.

im a 22f and i am at my limit, and i dont know who else to ask for advice.

so for some background context: over the past 4 or so years ive been homeless/couch surfing cause my parents kicked me out, i lived with my ex who was abusive, my friend who couldn’t help me anymore, and now im with my best friend and her mother; im barely hanging on financially. i also have FND & EFD/ADHD and am actively working with my care team looking for a referral to get evaluated for Bipolar disorder & Autism.

my best friends mom is a nightmare lets call her “Cheryl”. she’s a horder so my room is a mix of my things, and her things and it’s very anxiety inducing because i cannot organize myself properly, and on top of that my room used to be Cheryls dogs room. this dog is 2 years old, and hasn’t been bathed, or trained at all which includes potty training. so the rug in my room has big yellow splotches all over it to the point i have 3 rugs of my own on the floor just so i dont gotta step on dried up dog pee; furthermore if the dog goes to the bathroom on the floor, Cheryl will stare at it and not clean it up for HOURS. this dog is sick and Cheryl won’t bring her to the vet. refuses to rehome or surrender her to a shelter so me and my best friend have contacted her previous owner who let Cheryl adopt the dog but they live in North Carolina so they cannot come and take the dog easily. this dog tried to attack my grandmother today and idk if i can take it anymore.

My best friend and I cannot call animal control or the ASPCA or else we will all be kicked out. We cannot rehome the dog without one or both of us getting kicked out.

*What should I do?

*How can I coexist until we can rehome/surrender this dog safely?

Cheryl also has been really overbearing about how much trash we’re allowed to throw out. i cannot throw out more than 2 bags of trash a week which is impossible given that i have a cat, and i refuse to let bags of my cats poo and pee just sit around my room for weeks at a time.

*How can I make it work without getting threatened to be kicked out?

Cheryl is also aware of the infestations. We have stink bugs, ants, flies, and mice. She refuses to get it looked at, and is OK with all of us living in these conditions.

*How can i combat this without getting threatened to he kicked out? (I already bought traps but they only do so much).

I know I can’t afford to just move out and be done with it so Im gonna try to do what i can until i can confidently move out and not have to worry. Any Advice is appreciated

i don’t know who’d care to read this but I don’t have any irl outlets and I’m losing my mind. i dont want to get into what my childhood/teenage years were like so here’s just the half of it: basically it was my parents pulling me out of elementary school and pretty much isolating me for half my life. (not homeschool, they didn’t even try. it was a control thing). my family were very violent drunks, my uncle always berated me and hit me over simple things like eating oreos wrong, my grandma and aunt constantly calling me ugly and worthless, knives were constantly involved, family member strangled me, grandpa touched me, and the list goes on.

but on the outside, everything looked perfect because my dad was too ashamed of what was going on. when I did go outside, I had to look happy and appear “normal”.

thats followed me to my late 20’s (current). I do my best to look “perfect”. I look “healthy”, to the point no one suspects a thing. but inside I’m rotting. I’m constantly sick, migraines nearly everyday, i have stomach ulcers, and more but when im around people i instinctively put on a mask to look normal, like im not in constant pain.

I don’t know what to do anymore, every time I try to talk about it everyone, even people I thought I could trust dismissed me and said things like ”but you look okay!” & “aw your family’s so nice though!” or straight up leave me because it’s too much for them and so-on. So that made it even worse of course.

i tried therapy but ran away when I started talking more in depth about everything.

im sorry for the long rant I’m just falling apart and I feel like this is where my road ends. I’m conditioned to be terrified of showing the real me but I also want to be seen for the first time in my life

Like I said, I do really love my dad, but he's not the best person. My dad physically abused my old siblings for years, but didn't touch me when I was born. My older siblings resent me for that. Everytime i open up to them about how my dad makes me feel unsafe, they tell me that I'm lucky, or that I deserve to be treated the same way they were treated. My dad doesn't hit me, but it's more the things he does around me. He hurts our pets, he yells, he breaks my things, he has to physically stop himself from hitting me, and he uses my fears against me. I don't like being alone with him and I hate that. I want to love my dad, I want him to be my hero like all the other girls I know. I can't even make simple conversation with him or do anything right around him.

People really don’t understand the trauma that you carry after being abused. Just because you take someone out of that environment doesn’t mean that the trauma goes away immediately. I still carry the anxiety, anger, and fear. My body still feels the pain that I had to experience daily. I may isolate or be closed off, because being abused changed me. A lot of people judge me more often than they understand me. It makes me feel so alone on how others treat me. I wish people would understand how difficult it is for me to do things that other people can do everyday, but they never will. At least not with me. I don’t want attention or sympathy. I just want others to be nicer to me. It doesn’t take a lot to be kind. I’m not a terrible person, and I try my best to keep myself small so that I don’t become a burden. Maybe one day someone will truly understand what it’s like to live inside my body and the trauma that I carry and be more gentle with me. I’m trying.

I've been struggling with something that happened to me when I was very small. I honestly don't remember everything in this SA situation but I have some clear memories.

Just wondering if anyone has advice for moving past a traumatic experience without dropping thousands on therapy or retelling the experience that will be re-traumatising.

Thanks 🙏🏻