Cyber4ngel!
Member
- Aug 24, 2024
- 67
Hi everyone, you can call me Angel or Angelina!! (not my real name, ofc). This is my first post here, I'm 18, gender fluid, and I'm from Argentina. I speak both English and Spanish, but Spanish is my first language. I'm autistic, have ADHD, depression, anxiety, and possibly BPD, but I can't confirm the last one.
I've made a more friendly introduction in the "Make a Friend" megathread if you'd like to see some positive stuff, but in this introduction, I'll talk about trauma and stuff
(I will be using a translator because this is a long text, so sorry for any mistakes.)
Basically, the problems started from the day I was born. The first thing I caused was my mother having postpartum depression (which is more important in the story later on).
My childhood was complicated, but I think my happiest moments were from my birth until I was 7 years old. There was a lot of domestic violence in my home, daily beatings between my parents and shouting, and things breaking, plus I didn't get along with my siblings, and they always left me out or bullied me. Although I understand that we all come from a complicated childhood, I don't get along so badly now, but the relationship isn't good either.
My mom: My mom is the light of my eyes; I love her more than anyone, and I think she was the best person in my life and in my family along with my grandmother (my mom's mom). My mom, despite having problems with alcoholism that made her violent, smoking daily, and various mental illnesses like depression and probably BPD (although it was never known, just like me), she never hit me or told me she didn't love me. She never spent a day without taking care of me or feeding me, and she bought me everything I wanted: toys, clothes, even a Club Penguin membership, LOLOL. She was truly an adorable and kind person to everyone, even with so much sadness in her. When she was around, there was music in the house all day, and we danced to cuarteto, had food fights, and sat alone at night watching shooting stars while she smoked. She used to play pranks on me and my siblings; once, she changed the time on all the clocks in the house on a Saturday to make us think we hadn't gone to school on time, lolol. Then she made us a delicious breakfast.
Anyway, unfortunately, my mom committed suicide when I was 7 years old, in the month of my birthday, just a few days before I turned 8. The first thing that happened was that they blamed me; that's where the postpartum depression comes in. My family says that before I was born, my mom was doing very well and kept everything under control, but after I was born, she never recovered and returned to her addictions that ultimately killed her. Although my father never did anything to help her and forced her to medicate with things that weren't good for her because he was a doctor and could prescribe medications.
Speaking of my father, not even 8 months after my mom's death, he brought a new woman to live in our house without any warning, without even introducing her to his children! It turns out that this woman, my stepmother, was super abusive from the beginning, and in the first weeks of being in my house, she tried to push me out into the street to kick me out of the house. Keep in mind that I was 8 years old!! And of course my father never believed me!! To this day he protects her. But she always treated me very badly and tried to keep me away from my father as much as possible. Little by little, it got worse; she started hitting me, throwing my things in the trash if I didn't keep them in the order she wanted, blaming me for things I never did, taking my phone away, etc. The worst started when I turned 11 or 12 when they stopped feeding me, both her and my father. She started taking small things like cookies or snacks, then it became things like bread and flavored drinks, and eventually they limited me to only being fed twice a day, and in the end, they would make food for themselves and literally only give me their leftovers, which were 3 or 4 spoonfuls of food, or I had to eat from the trash and if they did feed me it was plain rice or noodles, because of this and because my dad did the same to me as he did to my mom with the medicine: Imagine that at 14 years old and weighing 36 kg, I was given 500 milligrams of quetiapine, 600 of lithium, and I'm not sure how many of clonazepam. This medication was prescribed when I weighed 62 kg, and they continued giving it to me at 36 kg because they also refused to take me to the doctor for years, almost causing my death from the medication and poor nutrition. As a result, my health deteriorated, and I used to be a very active person. I liked playing volleyball, hockey, dancing, going for runs, and wanted to join artistic gymnastics, but now I can't stand still for more than 10 minutes without getting dizzy and sometimes fainting.
They also stopped buying me clothes, even underwear, so at 17, I was still wearing clothes from when I was 10 years old, and I wasn't even allowed to wash clothes at home, so my dirty clothes piled up. I still have huge bags of dirty clothes that I couldn't wash. I already have problems keeping things clean, and I wasn't allowed to bathe either; I could only take a shower once a week at most, sometimes they let me go two weeks without bathing, and when I did, I had to do it secretly in the night like 4 am (keep in mind I am autistic and I don't tolerate my body being dirty, causes a lot of sensorial problems) i did this even though I had to go to school at 7 a.m. so I used to go without getting any sleep. Many times, they would turn off the water, so I would be halfway through my shower with soap in my hair, and I also had to wash my clothes in the shower. Oh, and they didn't even buy me toilet paper (they had their private bathroom, and the one my brother and I used was practically empty, and they had broken the handles on the bidet so we couldn't use it, so I had to clean myself with the shower). So, without going into more details, from that age on, I have absolutely nothing; I am poor.
To top it off, my father killed my childhood dog when I was 16; the same dog I had since I was about 3 years old. They didn't feed us, let alone my dog, and my dog survived being hit by a car and had become weak, plus he had fleas, and he died because my dad didn't buy him antibiotics or feed him. Even with my brother, we gave him the little food we could find, but it wasn't enough. He died on Christmas.
I never had many friends; I always struggled to feel included, and since I started kindergarten, I was constantly bullied. I had to leave school a year ago because of this and didn't finish high school.
Although I have a best friend and a cat that I love very much, and they would be very sad to know I'm here.
TW: SA (Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault)
Starting at around 11 years old, I began talking to older men, 20+ years old, who groomed me, and I was repeatedly a victim of SA from older men and even people from my high school. I always had a reputation for being a "slut" because they spread rumors that I wanted to sleep with everyone, when in reality, i was SA. I always felt uncomfortable with the whole sexual topic, and unless I'm very close to someone, I don't like to be sexual. I don't want to go into details, but my first SA was at 11 years old, coming from my partner's best friend, who spread those rumors that have haunted me for years. Since then, I've had many occasions like this with different people and in violent and traumatic ways. The last one was last year with an abusive partner I had for 4 years; we started dating when I was 13 and he was 18, and those were the worst 4 years of my life. I won't go into detail because that man isn't worth it and doesn't deserve to be remembered.
End of SA topic
Anyway, a few months ago, my brother and I managed to save enough money to rent a relatively cheap place, although the house is a mess, full of mold on the walls and broken things. The problem is, as I mentioned, my brother is kinda of an idiot sometimes and we dont get along that well, though I love him very much and I know he loves me. But he's the one with the money and manages it poorly, so we're financially struggling and not eating very well while he buys useless stuff, although it's better than at my father's house at least. But now, a few days ago, I found out there's a high possibility I might have to go back to my father's house.
I can't find a job despite distributing my resume everywhere, and my brother only does commission drawings. We're running out of money, and I fear that in a short time, if I don't find a job, I'll have to go back to that place, and I'm sure that will cause my death. I urgently need a job and can't get one even if I'm trying, I have run out of shampoo this month and couldn't buy one..
It's been almost a year since I started smoking again; I had quit and hadn't done it for years. I'm starting to have problems with alcohol, just like my mother, except I don't have the violent effect it had on her. Recently, I've started to consume marijuana again in the form of edibles, and I'm thinking about starting to use mushrooms. I feel like my life is going down the drain, and I'm getting worse and worse, spiraling into doing worse and worse things. I think I'm following exactly the same steps as my mother.
I feel like a monster that constantly seeks something that gives me adrenaline to forget about things and stop thinking, even if I do cruel stuff. I want to feel something and stop worrying about everything. I have too many responsibilities, and I can't take it anymore. I feel lost
For now, that's all. I can't explain my whole life in one text because it would take hours, but I guess that's the most basic about my story. Not sure when I'll CTB, I don't have any plans on it yet but I know that's the way its going to be someday, and with how things are going , it's going to be sooner than expected
If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading, and I hope we can get along. Feel free to message me!
I've made a more friendly introduction in the "Make a Friend" megathread if you'd like to see some positive stuff, but in this introduction, I'll talk about trauma and stuff
(I will be using a translator because this is a long text, so sorry for any mistakes.)
Basically, the problems started from the day I was born. The first thing I caused was my mother having postpartum depression (which is more important in the story later on).
My childhood was complicated, but I think my happiest moments were from my birth until I was 7 years old. There was a lot of domestic violence in my home, daily beatings between my parents and shouting, and things breaking, plus I didn't get along with my siblings, and they always left me out or bullied me. Although I understand that we all come from a complicated childhood, I don't get along so badly now, but the relationship isn't good either.
My mom: My mom is the light of my eyes; I love her more than anyone, and I think she was the best person in my life and in my family along with my grandmother (my mom's mom). My mom, despite having problems with alcoholism that made her violent, smoking daily, and various mental illnesses like depression and probably BPD (although it was never known, just like me), she never hit me or told me she didn't love me. She never spent a day without taking care of me or feeding me, and she bought me everything I wanted: toys, clothes, even a Club Penguin membership, LOLOL. She was truly an adorable and kind person to everyone, even with so much sadness in her. When she was around, there was music in the house all day, and we danced to cuarteto, had food fights, and sat alone at night watching shooting stars while she smoked. She used to play pranks on me and my siblings; once, she changed the time on all the clocks in the house on a Saturday to make us think we hadn't gone to school on time, lolol. Then she made us a delicious breakfast.
Anyway, unfortunately, my mom committed suicide when I was 7 years old, in the month of my birthday, just a few days before I turned 8. The first thing that happened was that they blamed me; that's where the postpartum depression comes in. My family says that before I was born, my mom was doing very well and kept everything under control, but after I was born, she never recovered and returned to her addictions that ultimately killed her. Although my father never did anything to help her and forced her to medicate with things that weren't good for her because he was a doctor and could prescribe medications.
Speaking of my father, not even 8 months after my mom's death, he brought a new woman to live in our house without any warning, without even introducing her to his children! It turns out that this woman, my stepmother, was super abusive from the beginning, and in the first weeks of being in my house, she tried to push me out into the street to kick me out of the house. Keep in mind that I was 8 years old!! And of course my father never believed me!! To this day he protects her. But she always treated me very badly and tried to keep me away from my father as much as possible. Little by little, it got worse; she started hitting me, throwing my things in the trash if I didn't keep them in the order she wanted, blaming me for things I never did, taking my phone away, etc. The worst started when I turned 11 or 12 when they stopped feeding me, both her and my father. She started taking small things like cookies or snacks, then it became things like bread and flavored drinks, and eventually they limited me to only being fed twice a day, and in the end, they would make food for themselves and literally only give me their leftovers, which were 3 or 4 spoonfuls of food, or I had to eat from the trash and if they did feed me it was plain rice or noodles, because of this and because my dad did the same to me as he did to my mom with the medicine: Imagine that at 14 years old and weighing 36 kg, I was given 500 milligrams of quetiapine, 600 of lithium, and I'm not sure how many of clonazepam. This medication was prescribed when I weighed 62 kg, and they continued giving it to me at 36 kg because they also refused to take me to the doctor for years, almost causing my death from the medication and poor nutrition. As a result, my health deteriorated, and I used to be a very active person. I liked playing volleyball, hockey, dancing, going for runs, and wanted to join artistic gymnastics, but now I can't stand still for more than 10 minutes without getting dizzy and sometimes fainting.
They also stopped buying me clothes, even underwear, so at 17, I was still wearing clothes from when I was 10 years old, and I wasn't even allowed to wash clothes at home, so my dirty clothes piled up. I still have huge bags of dirty clothes that I couldn't wash. I already have problems keeping things clean, and I wasn't allowed to bathe either; I could only take a shower once a week at most, sometimes they let me go two weeks without bathing, and when I did, I had to do it secretly in the night like 4 am (keep in mind I am autistic and I don't tolerate my body being dirty, causes a lot of sensorial problems) i did this even though I had to go to school at 7 a.m. so I used to go without getting any sleep. Many times, they would turn off the water, so I would be halfway through my shower with soap in my hair, and I also had to wash my clothes in the shower. Oh, and they didn't even buy me toilet paper (they had their private bathroom, and the one my brother and I used was practically empty, and they had broken the handles on the bidet so we couldn't use it, so I had to clean myself with the shower). So, without going into more details, from that age on, I have absolutely nothing; I am poor.
To top it off, my father killed my childhood dog when I was 16; the same dog I had since I was about 3 years old. They didn't feed us, let alone my dog, and my dog survived being hit by a car and had become weak, plus he had fleas, and he died because my dad didn't buy him antibiotics or feed him. Even with my brother, we gave him the little food we could find, but it wasn't enough. He died on Christmas.
I never had many friends; I always struggled to feel included, and since I started kindergarten, I was constantly bullied. I had to leave school a year ago because of this and didn't finish high school.
Although I have a best friend and a cat that I love very much, and they would be very sad to know I'm here.
TW: SA (Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault)
Starting at around 11 years old, I began talking to older men, 20+ years old, who groomed me, and I was repeatedly a victim of SA from older men and even people from my high school. I always had a reputation for being a "slut" because they spread rumors that I wanted to sleep with everyone, when in reality, i was SA. I always felt uncomfortable with the whole sexual topic, and unless I'm very close to someone, I don't like to be sexual. I don't want to go into details, but my first SA was at 11 years old, coming from my partner's best friend, who spread those rumors that have haunted me for years. Since then, I've had many occasions like this with different people and in violent and traumatic ways. The last one was last year with an abusive partner I had for 4 years; we started dating when I was 13 and he was 18, and those were the worst 4 years of my life. I won't go into detail because that man isn't worth it and doesn't deserve to be remembered.
End of SA topic
Anyway, a few months ago, my brother and I managed to save enough money to rent a relatively cheap place, although the house is a mess, full of mold on the walls and broken things. The problem is, as I mentioned, my brother is kinda of an idiot sometimes and we dont get along that well, though I love him very much and I know he loves me. But he's the one with the money and manages it poorly, so we're financially struggling and not eating very well while he buys useless stuff, although it's better than at my father's house at least. But now, a few days ago, I found out there's a high possibility I might have to go back to my father's house.
I can't find a job despite distributing my resume everywhere, and my brother only does commission drawings. We're running out of money, and I fear that in a short time, if I don't find a job, I'll have to go back to that place, and I'm sure that will cause my death. I urgently need a job and can't get one even if I'm trying, I have run out of shampoo this month and couldn't buy one..
It's been almost a year since I started smoking again; I had quit and hadn't done it for years. I'm starting to have problems with alcohol, just like my mother, except I don't have the violent effect it had on her. Recently, I've started to consume marijuana again in the form of edibles, and I'm thinking about starting to use mushrooms. I feel like my life is going down the drain, and I'm getting worse and worse, spiraling into doing worse and worse things. I think I'm following exactly the same steps as my mother.
I feel like a monster that constantly seeks something that gives me adrenaline to forget about things and stop thinking, even if I do cruel stuff. I want to feel something and stop worrying about everything. I have too many responsibilities, and I can't take it anymore. I feel lost
For now, that's all. I can't explain my whole life in one text because it would take hours, but I guess that's the most basic about my story. Not sure when I'll CTB, I don't have any plans on it yet but I know that's the way its going to be someday, and with how things are going , it's going to be sooner than expected
If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading, and I hope we can get along. Feel free to message me!
Last edited:
ill take your advice into consideration!! honestly im not bothered with pain im just looking for something effective and relatively easy to get my hands on or do... (´∀｀；)
