Struggling With PTSD

by Manodora
(Wisconsin, USA)

Still struggling with my PTSD from the abuse:
I was a teen when all of it happened; my brother and his friends sexually abused me. My parents didn't do anything about it, with that it gave me PTSD and I still struggle with it even if I had gotten help. Now I'm grown up, I still struggle.

The abuse started around summer, I was in a two-piece bikini and just sitting on a chair enjoying myself till I felt a hand against my chest. I looked and saw my brother touching me. I pushed his hand off telling him not to do that. I thought he was playing around since I he always did that. But from that I guess all-hell broke...

Coming back from school, I was going to my room, till I felt a hand against my arm and jerking me into my brother's room. I was struggling. I could feel hands taking off my clothing, when the lights came on it was my brother and his friends. Two of them held my arms out; I was in nothing more than my bra and underwear. I kept telling them that this wasn't funny, since I thought that he was joking. Boy, was I a fool.

Before long, it escalated. I was jerking and screaming at him to stop but he didn't. He was masturbating me, and I couldn't hold it in. I orgasm while his disgusting buddies touched me.

After that they pushed me out, threw my clothes on me and I ran to my room, scared. I started to cry. I was so ashamed, scared. I felt like I should have known that he was going to do something to me when he touched me. But I didn't.

When he was at football practice, I went up to my mom, explained what my brother and his friends did. But she didn't believe me. She told me that we will have to see what your brother says, if he did this to you or not. I felt hurt by her. When he did come home, our mom asked him if he along with his friends touched me inappropriately. He gave a fake innocent look, that look and face fooled my parents all the time to make me the liar. He shook his head and said no that he didn't touch me.

My mom looked at me and scolded me for accusing him of doing something that he didn't. I was shock and felt betrayed. She was always along with my dad. They were ALWAYS on my brother side.

The abuse continued. They only touched me in a inappropriate spots and my breasts.

I felt so uncomfortable in my body. It was hard to love myself for what happened, to accept myself. Most of all, I was ashamed of myself. I kept myself isolated in my room whenever HE was at home along with his friends. It was a safe distance. I had a bat in my room so I could hurt him and make him feel what he did to me. But I knew that my parents would just believe him and not me. I kept the feeling of hurting him just in my room with the bat.

After I graduated and went to collage, I developed PTSD. I was scared of going back home. I couldn't trust anyone. I was nervous around every student that passed me in the hall almost leading me into a full-blown panic attack. I didn't want to show off my body anymore since I felt like it would lure someone to me that I didn't want. I basically didn't have any friends since they saw me as "strange" but I couldn't blame them since I avoided other people.

But I managed to make one friend that stayed with me. She understood about what happened to me and knew how it felt being with parents that only believed in their son. She came from an abusive family herself. We had a fun time talking with each other. It made me feel happy that I had someone that understood where I came from.

My years in collage were great, till I met my hubby. He was so sweet, kind, and gentle. I dated him for a while but I was nervous to tell him about the abuse I had to endure at home. Lots of questions were in my mind: Would he understand? Would he break up with me? Would he call me a sl*t?

When we were having lunch together in a restaurant, he asked me how my life was. I paled. I took a gulp and told him everything. He was shocked. I expected that he would just leave me but he didn’t. He understood and told me that I’d be staying with him and his mom. Since he said it would be better to be with his family instead of mine.

I also was taking therapies for my PTSD, so I could get help with it.

When I was 20, I became pregnant with our first baby. We kind of accidentally had sex together. We had to tell his mom, expecting she she would get mad at us. But she was really supportive and would help us with the baby.

Around in February, K--, our first baby was born at home. He was such an adorable baby, but one thing I was nervous about was breast-feeding him. I had the fear of someone going to look at me when I feed him, so I covered up so no one would see my breast. If anyone were in my shoes they would understand why I had to cover him.

K-- was around 8 when we adopted two little ones from their abusive mother who neglected them. Then we adopted a girl with cerebral palsy.

Right now, we are owners of a sanctuary for big cats. One of our tigresses became my emotional support animal. Whenever I want to go somewhere I bring her along. We rescued her when she was a young cub. She was being treated as a photo-prop and we knew we couldn’t put her with the other tigers since they would kill or reject her.

I had a second baby, M--. Once I had her, I did the same thing when I had K--, covering her when she was hungry and breastfeeding. I got dirty looks from other moms with newborns like they were criticizing me for covering my baby when she was hungry. But they weren't in the situation I was in to feel uncomfortable to show my chest. I did try to tell them that I had PTSD and had a horrible teen-hood, but they didn’t listen. They continued to harass me that I was just covering them for sex with my husband, which was NOT TRUE. When I was sitting there, I was having a panic attack. Jyoti sensed my distress and put her two paws on my lap, trying to calm me down. One mother shoved the poor thing off my lap, the other yanked off the cover that was covering M--. There was me sitting, with my breast hanging out.

My heart was THUNDERING, I felt my breathing faltering with panic. I got up, grabbed my things and left the park quickly with Jyoti and M--. I know breast-feeding is a beautiful thing, but with my experience with my brother, it gave me a panic attack of just showing my chest for all to see.

Also, something validating happened. I heard from one of my family members that my brother and his grimy group of friends were arrested for molesting his son and gang-raping his daughter. I had sympathy for his children along with the wife who didn’t know what he did to his own flesh and blood, but there was also relief because I had been vindicated. I was also part of the trial and brave enough to explain what he done to me along with his friends. It felt good seeing them in trial, it gave me a sense of peace.

But I WON’T forgive him or my parents for giving me PTSD. As long as he is in jail and away I have a sense of peace. Even though I may suffer from PTSD, one thing I have to do and give myself is Happiness.

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Comments for Struggling With PTSD

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Mar 03, 2016
by: Darlene Barriere - Webmaster

It is good to hear that your brother is now in jail for his crimes. That's where he should be, away from everyone so he can't hurt the defenseless.

As for the shame you still experience, it's time to give that wings so that it can fly away. You bear no shame or blame in what your brother and his vile friends did to you. Sex feels good, that's a fact. And another fact is that it is not uncommon for someone who is sexually abused to reach an orgasm, male OR female. Your body simply responded to physical and sexual stimulation. It doesn't mean that you weren't abused. Or that you have any shame to carry. All the shame and blame lies squarely on the shoulders of the abusers. Period.

It does appear that you have brought purpose to your life, rescuing children and animals. That's always a very good thing.

It's also a very good thing to have an emotional support. Animals can be amazing in that way. I'm aware of dogs, horses, even pigs being employed in this way, but I must say, I'm surprised and skeptical you can bring a tiger around with you. Rescued, tame or otherwise. And that mothers would openly bring their children around such an animal, not to mention batting away the paws of such an animal with their children right there. You didn't explain how this could be. And though this aspect of your story does stretch the boundaries of belief, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt only because your story does reflect that PTSD is very much an effect of child abuse. It is for this reason that I didn't delete your story outright.

I send you love, light and healing energy, Manodora. Thank you for sharing your story with my visitors and me.

From Victim to Victory, a memoir
Darlene Barriere
author. speaker. survivor. coach
From Victim to Victory, a memoir

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