Hi everyone,
I've been a part of the forum now since the August of 2022. I lurked around for around 2 weeks before joining as I was searching for resources on various methods that I was considering at the time. I've never really introduced myself nor told my full story, only in bits and pieces accross some posts so I thought maybe I should do so now before I CTB. I'm in my mid 20s and I'm a female. For referance, I have severe C-PTSD so I'd prefer and appreciate for there to not be any arguing nor any offensive posts in this thread. Please be civil with each other and respectful. I apologize in advance for how long the story is.
I was born into a pretty standard family in Scandinavia. My parents were in their 30s and already had 2 kids togheter prior to having me, which would end up being the last child they ever had. They both had stable successfull careers and a house togheter in the middle of town.
Life was normal and good until I reached age 3. My earliest memories are from around age 2. We have a lot of photos and videos from when we were all growing up. All my earliest memories are great and of me being happy, having a normal life. However, when I was 3 my mom suddenly kicked my dad out one evening and I had no idea what was going on. I had never seen them argue before and I couldn't comprehend what was happening.
Nobody really ever told me what happened or what was going on. I kept waiting for my dad to come back home every evening, and he never did. I never got a clear answer when I asked where he was. I don't think I saw him for months. I kept asking to see him and I never was able to. I had a stronger bond with my dad than I did with my mom so it was extremely difficult for me.
I eventually got to see him again months later and he had then gotten an apartment that he'd bought. While my mom ended up selling our house and started renting another house which made my siblings, me and my mom all move. I was happy to see my dad again and I was still struggling to understand what was going on. But turns out my dad had cheated on my mom and he'd hide things and never communicate with her, is what I found out some years ago and was the reasons behind their break up.
It turns out that my dad had no interest in having contact with me nor my siblings at all, I didn't know this until some years ago. The only reason he eventually let me see him when he had gotten an apartment was that he had gotten a fiancée as well. I had never met this woman before and didn't know who she was. He'd bring me to his apartment and have me talk on the phone with her regularly with him. She lived in a town 9 hours away by car. She had 2 kids and had recently divorced the dad of her children and was renting a small apartment in her town. She had a successful career also and was older than my dad.
Eventually, me and one of my siblings went on a trip with my dad to visit and meet her. He had met her originally on a work trip and had traveled to see her several times. We met her and stayed in her vacation home which was a house in the middle of a village some hours away from the town she work and live in, the village had around 10 people living in it. Pretty much in the middle of nowhere and 2 hours from any stores. This is where she was born and grew up.
Ever since I first met her and one of her kids when I was 3, I was abused, molested and raped by her and this child. This would happen every time I went there, every day. I didn't know what any of those things were. I was told to not tell anyone about it and that they were «games» that people play with kids sometimes. Nothing ever happened to my sibling, they didn't abuse him and he didn't know that this happened to me. I was pulled aside into different rooms and isolated.
My dad knew what was happening, he was never a part of it nor did he ever lay a land on me, he'd walk away and go drink alcohol and block it out. I didn't know that what was happening to me was wrong and illegal until I was 11. My mom had shared custody of me with my dad always. I would live primarely with my mom and my 2 siblings, then go visit my dad every second weekend and during holidays and I'd be abused, isolated, molested and raped every time I went there by his wife and her son.
My bedroom in the house they bought togheter didn't have a door, it was in a basement right next to laundry machine, which she'd turn on during night so I couldn't sleep. The room was 2 meters long/6.5 feet, 1 meter wide/3.2 feet. It could only fit a simple small bed. All her kids had their own proper bedrooms upstairs. I'd be locked downstairs sometimes.
I got a lot of anxiety for different things eventually when I turned 6. The woman would abuse me a lot in showers, so I started getting scared of water and the sound of water. I'd start shaking a lot if I heard or saw water and got panic attacks. I'd get anxiety over trying new clothes on. She'd try to dress me as a boy and I was very uncomfortable with it all and made me scared. Whenever I'd arrive there from my mom's house with my packaged backpack of clothes that me and my mom got me, she'd take the clothes and hide them and hand me boy clothes instead. And return my actual clothes the day I was going home to my mom again.
I was given a cell phone by my mom when I was 6 because I'd always cycle around the town to all my friends and she'd worry about where I was and since I'd travel 9 hours away from her a lot of weekends to see my dad. Whenever I went to visit my dad and his wife they'd take my phone away from me to prevent me from being able to call my mom when I had my panic attacks, to keep me quiet and to keep the secrets.
I got more and more uncomfortable and aware that this isn't normal the older I got. I didn't really want to visit my dad anymore. But he'd yell at me and guilt trip me whenever I said I don't want to go. He also kidnapped me a few times, by taking me without letting my mom know and then hiding my phone. I wasn't aware that I was kidnapped because he'd tell that mom knew about the trip.
At 7, my mon started getting into bad relationships with alcoholic men that would move in with us, and she started getting some alcohol issues then. It was difficult to be around it all the time and listening to all the fighting and them hitting each other every night. I didn't feel safe anywhere. I really struggled in school. I could never sleep and I wasn't able to eat more than once a day typically. I just couldn't focus or concentrate. I got anxious around people who drank alcohol and I just couldn't calm down or sleep when I knew people were drinking.
My mom started hitting me and my siblings when I was 7 over small things, such as eating the last slice of salami or over our dog barking. I remember crying often and being confused over which home was worst to go to, my moms or my dads? Because I suffered so much in both places. All I really wanted was to have the same families that all my friends had and that maybe I could be adopted one day. I didn't feel loved or cared for.
I felt bad about my body and how I looked since I turned 8, and I continued to feel guilty and bad whenever I ate. I think this is when I started developing body dysmorphia. Especially since I'd be punished for eating. I was always frail and petite. I'd randomly gag and vomit whenever we ate dinner, I still don't know why. Maybe because I was too stressed and anxious to eat. My body would just reject food automatically.
My mom stopped caring about me and my siblings and neglected us while she partied and focused on herself. The neglection started when I was 4 but became a serious issue when I was 8. She'd tell me every day how annoying I am, how she want to send me to my dad so she can get a break, that I talk too much, and I wasnt allowed to sing anymore or play with my toys. I started withdrawing and becoming more quiet and closed off. I didn't feel wanted. It was difficult as I've always been very cheerful and extroverted.
Since she'd tell me she didn't want me weekly, I said maybe I should move to my dad. She hit me and told me to never say that ever again. I felt that maybe I could get help in school with learning things If I moved to my dad and went to a good school. All I wanted was for my parents to get back togheter, I wished for it so badly all the time, so things could be normal again. I kept missing my memories of how good things were when I was 2.
My moms alcoholic boyfriend that had lived with us since I was 7 until 10, suddenly left one day and stole her enitre savings account. He moved accross the entire country and went back to his ex wife. I was happy he left so I could sleep and relax since there would be no more fighting and alcohol. My mom kept partying though and she would never be home at night. I'd have to wake myself up every morning since I was 8 to get myself to schoo and make my own food because my mom would be asleep and hungover until I got back from school every day.
When I was turning 11, my dad took me and his wife and her son abroad for the entire summer. It was life changing for me. I was very depressed and I felt no meaning to my life. I still hadn't learned how to read or write. And everything was horrible all the time. My teachers in school would make fun of, punish and bully me for being unable to do anything, I never actually got any help with my issues.
When we spent those months abroad, I was still being abused by his wife and son. But the country we went to amazed me and made me feel so happy. I gained hope for my life and future. Ever since I went there, I just wanted to move there and go back. I told myself that things will get better, once I'm an adult I can actually move here and get away from all the abuse. I can do whatever I want then and be free. It became my life goal and the only thing keeping me alive and motivated.
When we got back from the trip, we stayed for a few weeks in the vacation house in the village of his wife. I had just reached puberty, before anyone else I knew and right after turning 11. His wife and her son had noticed that and became a lot more interested in abusing me even more than they already were. It increased so much that I just felt that I cannot do this anymore. I told myself that I have to tell my mom about this when I get home because I don't ever want to see these people ever again.
I told my mom about everything when she was in the garden on her birthday, the day before summer vacations was over and school would start again. It took 4 hours. My mom was super upset and during her birthday party with my siblings and her parents, she called and confronted my dad about everything I had told her. My dad yelled on the phone and called her a lot of insulting names, so loud that we could all hear. He then ended the call and called me, and told me I was never supposed to tell anyone and to keep my mouth shut.
When school started again, I went and talked to the school nurse who was supposed to be sort of a therapist. I told her everything. I only went to her because I needed to talk about it after having kept this to myself most of my life and puberty probably made it extremely difficult for me to keep carrying it. I also talked to her specifically because she said she had confidentialty so I knew she couldn't tell anyone else or police about it. It then broke me and my world when she told me after I had told her everything, that this is so severe that she has to break her confidentiality clause and that she ethically has to contact the police. This was not what I wanted at all.
I felt so guilty and ruined. She contacted the police and I felt so much guilt and pain over hurting my dad because I had broken my promise to him of protecting his new family and keeping their secrets. I was devastated. I became suicidal, extremely suicidal. The entire year was filled with police investigations, court hearings, therapy, and so on. It was awful. I ruined my entire family. I skipped school most of that year. I spent most of my days in my bedroom crying and holding a knife for hours and wanting to CTB. I just wanted to so badly, but I was tierd of all the physical pain so I was scared of that. I'd sleep with the knife next to me every night.
My mom didn't hug me or talk to me when I was crying. She'd completely ignore me. I felt banished and left out by everyone. I lost all my friends because I never went to school and I had too much anxiety to go outside because my dad tried to kidnap me 4 times when I walked to school and when I left the house. He'd sit outside our house for months and stand outside our door for many hours at a time, looking into my bedroom.
My mom wouldn't do anything about it or call cops, she didn't want to revoke his guardianship over me because she wanted to keep getting child support from him so she could keep partying. She left a lot of things out when she went to court and didn't help me because she cared more about the money.
I had to hold my phone in my hand all the time anywhere I went to feel safe and I'd call my grandmother so nobody would want to kidnap me. I still have to hold my phone often today to feel safe.
I felt betrayed and abandoned by everyone I cared about, and a horrible guilt that never went away after betraying my dad. The guilt is the reason I started feeling suicidal and why I've been suicidal for the past 13 years.
When I was 11 I got to see a psychologist who diagnosed me with moderate to severe PTSD, anxiety and depression. I only saw her 3 times because all she'd tell me is that well maybe you should keep visiting your dad, maybe you will regret this when you're 20 and so on. And I was like, you want me to visit my dad so I can keep being raped? And I didn't want to talk to her anymore. In my country if you are under 16, your parents can both see everything that you talk about medically and your medical journal. My dad would call the therapist and tell her what to do and read my files all the time. When I found out that that's the reason this woman is telling me crazy things, I stopped therapy until I turned 16.
From age 11 until 16 I had to deal with everything by myself. I had nobody to talk to or to ask for help from. Nobody cared. I was able to teach myself to read, write, other languages, and so on. I started doing well in school. I started getting used to being alone all the time and I'd spend all my spare time analysing people. It gave me a lot of comfort and peace. It helped me understand why people are the way they are and why they do what they do. Being able to understand why, how, and so on really helps me let go and move on. I got so used to being alone despite being so extroverted, that I stopped feeling lonely and I enjoyed my own company and the peace. I'd keep making friends but it was hard to feel stimulated or interested because I didn't feel that people my age understood much of what I was interested in and the spot I was at in life. I'd eventually stop talking to them.
I had every kind of therapy and treatment there is for PTSD and depression when I was 16 to 19 and now this past year, except for ECT because they deny me it because they don't want to cause brain damage.
When I was 16 I was able to get a very good and understanding trauma specialist therapist and I got to see a few neuvrologists. I learned that my learning issues were from my PTSD and from short term memory issues that also stemmed from it along with a weak work memory. But that my long term memory was great. However, all we tried to improve it didn't work. And eventually after trying all sorts of therapy there was to try without any improvement nor results, my therapist just started telling me every time I saw her that I should become one and she wish she could break her confidentiality so I could help her other patients. We'd just spend all our remaining time togheter talking about philosophy and other psychological and medical cases. It was a surreal experience. She and other therapists also then asked me to write a book on PTSD some time. When I ended my therapy to go study in University, I ended up with the final diagnosis of severe depression and C-PTSD and I was told that nothing will probably ever improve or cure it.
During all of this, I ended up getting groomed and gaslighted at age 15 by a guy who was 9 years older than me. I kept it to myself and some of my older friends. I didn't mention it to anyone. I didn't actually realise that I was being groomed and I didn't know what gaslighting was. I felt that it was a little weird that someone 9 years older would talk to a 15 year old in a romanic and sexual way, but I felt so understood and supported. I could finally talk to someone about all these intellectual things and be understood, I felt like I was talking to someone who was equal to me. I didn't feel bored.
I gave up on being around people my age because I had nothing in common with them. I felt a lot more comfortable and happy around people more mature and who knew a lot of things, where there could be held a discussion. I appreciate all that this person ever did for me. They helped me through a lot and with many things. But when I got older and realised the other things they did to me that was illegal and not okey, it really hit me hard and it worsened my depression and my PTSD quite a lot. I was devastated and it took me a year to recover. I spent 6 years around this person and it is sad and bizzare to say that they are one of the better people I've known in life while I also feel a lot of hate for them. It is the only person I feel hatred for.
I went to University at 19, had a lot of ups and downs and unexpected events happen that made things more difficult than they ever should have been and I never expected these things to ever happen. I started to lose hope in what was motivating me to stay alive, which was moving abroad and being free, like I had planned since I was 11.
I was still living at home when I was 21 and trying to keep studying. My mom kept renting, I'm not sure why she never bought another house. We had moved around 13 times since I was born, but we rented this house since I was 16. One day our landlords delivered us a letter of eviction, because they wanted to rent out the entire house to their grandson. We had 3 months on us to move. I had a lot of stress going on with the study situation and with the situation that was going on with the guy that was 9 years older. I felt pretty stuck physically due to all the PTSD, and then this made it even worse. I was really suicidal at the time. I was crying every morning and thinking of ways to CTB, but my depression made me unable to have any energy at all.
My mom somehow got a boyfriend and moved in with him before the eviction period was up, I had a surgery a couple days before we got the eviction note, so I was recovering from the surgery all the next 3 months in which I had to move. My mom said she would not lift a single thing from the house nor help us move. The house had 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and 3 floors.
I had basically summer vacation on me to figure out what to do. My mom would ignore me and my siblings, we had no way to contact her, she abandoned us and didn't care about us at all. She focused on abusing her boyfriend, using him for money and using him for a free place to stay. I applied to 400 jobs in 2 months. I spent 12 hours a day browsing jobs and apartments. With my PTSD and all the hardship I had faced, I refused to end up on welfare, that was never an option. I wanted a job or to study. That's all I've worked for. Move out day arrived, I had still not gotten any job offers. I could keep studying. But I hadn't heard anything from the dorms.
My siblings found an apartment for the 2 of them to rent togheter and moved there. I ended up being homeless for a month and living in a garden shed and sometimes on their sofa. I'd go to hotels and some peoples living rooms for Zoom interviews as some places started using Zoom at the time. The housing market in my home town is very limited, it's hard to find anything to rent and all the dorms were filled. I had a lot of money saved up, around 10k usd/euros but I didn't want to waste it.
I realised that this was the perfect time to move abroad. My mom had been hindering me from doing so since I was 19 to keep me stuck around her to keep demanding money from me. But now that she moved in with a guy and didn't need us financially anymore and couldn't guilt trip me, I did it.
I moved abroad, I stayed in a Bed and Breakfast for 1 week. I was exhaused the first 3 days. I couldn't eat, I was tierd the entire time and slept 15 hours a day. I had a lot of break downs. Even though I had a lot of money saved up for emergency, I asked my best friend if I could borrow some from him in case I needed it. He helped me and supported me moving. I had never asked anyone for money before and it was very difficult. I think with all the betrayals and my PTSD, I have been scared to not be independant, because I realised I can't really depend on anyone, so asking for help has always been difficult.
I went on 9 apartment showings. I got offered 7 of them. I chose the apartment I wanted to live in after 7 days in BnB and I moved in the day after. The owner was a psychologist and a doctor and we got to talk about a lot of interesting things togheter. I got a job and started studying instantly too, everything was going well so fast. I made a very solid and good friend group with people from the country and a lot of other countries. We'd hang out every day.
But I really missed my best friend and the guy I was with for 8 years. It was hard to have so little contact with them. I was getting optimistic about my future again, and I shared it with my boyfriend. I told him we can finally do all the things we had been planning, and he suddenly told me he don't ever want to see me again. It ruined me. Things were going well overall in life but my PTSD and the amount of stress I was carrying was almost enough to make me collapse.
I had done everything he had asked of me and proven that I'm independant and he suddenly didn't want me anymore. I left and he kept coming back every day, pretending like we never broke up. Just constantly gaslighting me to the extreme and denying that he ever said or did anything, when there were texts of what he said and did. He then tried to contact me often when I was working and when I was trying to do my studying. It really upset me and I started getting more and more angry because I was heart broken. There had always been abuse and gaslighting but it was extreme now, along with stalking.
It all ended badly, and I didn't handle it well. I kept myself busy all day and night long with parties, my friends, work, studies, and hiking, working out, and so on. Despite how much I'd do in a day and how busy I'd be, I had so many flashbacks, nightmares and such strong PTSD from all those 8 years. It felt so unbearable to live. I cried daily when I got home and I just couldn't do anything to avoid the trauma. Half a year later when corona hit as well, I went rope shopping and I looked for suitable trees nearby. I couldn't take it anymore. I felt like I had gone insane.
I was advancing well at work, within my friend groups, and so on. People were treating me well and I should have felt happy, but I felt empty and I couldn't feel anything but missery. I was doing all the things I always wanted to, and I just couldn't feel anything but depressed and suicidal.
The only thing that made me stop thinking about suicide, was 1 guy 2 months prior to corona happening. He treated me so well. I felt hope in people and in life again. It's the most impactful person I've met. I started believing that nice people maybe do exist. It gave me optimism, and it felt great to not feel suicidal and to have a break from PTSD for first time in 10 years. I was able to relax and feel happy. But corona really broke me down again and my PTSD resuming and reminding me of all the memories I cannot escape.
Corona became too much for me mentally, the physical limits that were imposed were too small and I couldn't handle it. I felt physically restricted and trapped like when I was a child and a teen. It worsened everything so much. I ended up moving back to my home country which was a lot more relaxed and didn't really have physical restrictions, not anywhere close to where I was living.
It was bittersweet to move back to this country, the country I've hated and wanted to leave and that has been my motivation to stay alive. I kept feeling suicidal and unhappy here. Word limit, will continue story below in new post.
I then started looking into the CO and gas method. I decided on trying the helium one. I got a mask and I was going to order the helium. Then one of my friends said maybe we should go abroad for a trip. They knew that I'd get a break from PTSD when I travel usually and I'd maybe feel happier and non suicidal if I get away from the country for a while.
We started a relationship as well and decided on where to travel. It was difficult with all the corona restrictions. We didn't have much to pick from. We ended up going somewhere and everything seemed fine. But on day 3 of the trip that was supposed to last 2 weeks, I fell off a bus and I broke both my ankles. We were around 13 hours away by plane from home country. I had so much pain and I couldn't believe what was happening.
I have a story of eating disorders, with anorexia. Prior to the trip I had been starving myself and not eating much. I don't know if that contributed to the breaking.
It was a nightmare. I just wanted to go home. I was told by doctors that I'd have to get a surgery on one of my ankles. I had 5 fractures in total. It just felt so surreal. I couldn't comprehend anything the first few hours, I thought it was all a bizzare joke. I didn't want to have a surgery abroad in an unknown country where I didn't speak the language. I got my ticket changed and decided to go home next day.
Airport doctor and doctors I had seen day prior stated that I was fit to fly. I couldn't walk on my ankles so I was wheelchair bound. I had taken corona test and it was negative. Everything was clear for the flight and I had gotten airport special assistance. When I get to the gate, 1 of the air hostesses deny me boarding for no reason, stating she dont want me to sue them if my feet get even more broken or damaged during the flight. I sit at the gate and watch the fly depart. This happens 3 more times for 3 more days.
I had to contact the airline and get new tickets, 3 times. The person I was with left without me, I was stuck on an airport by myself for 3 days. In the end, I had to contact my embassy in the country and get an offical letters from them to tell the airline that they cannot deny me boarding to my home country as I need medical attention and I'm a citizent. I was finally able to board the 3rd flight then.
I was put in an ambulance instantly when I landed and I was put into corona isolation at the hospital, despite 4 more new negative corona tests. I was then transported with ambulance for another 7 hours the next day, to the hospital in my town, because the hospital I was in originally had too little capacity due to corona.
I got sent to the hospital in the town I live in and I begged them not to. You normally have free choice of hospital here by law, but not during corona. I had recently moved to this town and I had no family here and not a big network. I wanted to be sent to my hometown. I just kept being denied it.
I arrived at the new hospital and I got corona tested 5 more times, all negative. I had to wait 16 days for my ankle surgery, because I had to corona isolate for 14 days. I tried to suicide in the hospital on oxy and a bottle of whiskey I had in my suitcase during night. I survived. I told them I tried to suicide and nobody cared. I asked to see a trauma psychologist for 1 week and I was denied every day. I had to get my friends to call the hospital for them to finally let me talk to someone. She said I should not be corona tested anymore nor be in isolation because it will kill me and worsen my PTSD, nobody listened. I wasnt allowed to get any visit from anyone, nor to get gifts or food sent to me. I didn't really eat for 2 weeks, I just drank water.
I was working from my hospital bed and on the surgery day. The surgery took 6 hours. I was told it would take 1. I lost some of my closest friends when I broke my ankles and laid in hospital, because people said I have too much bad karma and got scared that they will somehow get bad karma and bad luck too.
I was told I'd end up with 3 screws, the xray lady told me the day after that I had 12 screws and 1 metal plate. I was in so much pain and I was being denied pain medicine.
I was told that I can leave hospital and I have to ask my mom to come down to this town and take care of me. I asked her to because nobody else I know would be able to. She denied helping me. I begged for 3 weeks. I got home to my apartment and I had lost all my muscles since I had been bedbound and wheelchaired for 3 weeks almost. I could barely roll myself around to get to the store. It took 1 hour to roll myself to store and back home again, a store that is 5 minutes away by walking and it was snowy and icy.
I felt like this is it, my life is completely ruined. My mom eventually traveled to me when she realised she could use me for money again as she and her boyfriend had broken up. She yelled at me and abused me weekly, then it started being daily. It was a living nightmare.
I was told I'd be able to walk and heal in 2 months. 2 months later I'm told everythings healed and I can use crutches now. I could walk 50 steps. I'd try to walk every day. I had so much pain and none of the opioids I got helped. I was crying all the time. I could feel half of my foot anymore.
I messaged my personal doctor from my home town with the xray photos and asked what do I do, she said I need rehabilitation because it's such severe fractures. Which the hospital told me it wasnt and that I wouldn't need any help to relearn walking.
I found a physical foot therapist and I didn't remember how to walk at all. I'd go there 3 times a week. I worked out really hard but I was stuck at 200 steps. I just couldn't walk more than that. The pain got worse and worse.
I went to the hospital again and they told me it actually isnt healed. All the fractures are still open. They had barely healed at all. I also found out from a private surgeon that the screws were pushing into my joint, something the public hospital surgeons told me it wasnt, but their own radiologists kept saying it was. So I had a bunch of screws I didn't need, placed by a surgeon who isn't a foot surgeon, in a public hospital, who'd done this to hundreads of other people as well.
I had to pay thousands to go to a private surgeon to remove some of the screws, and an hour later I could walk 5000 steps. I went from walking 200 steps every day for a year to 5000 the same day without crutches.
The entire year I had been told that I'm lazy by my mom, that I'm doing nothing to heal, that it's my fault that this happened, and that I ruined my own life. I had flashbacks from being stuck in that hospital bed and from being stuck in an airport every single day. I was denied trauma therapy because it was too soon after the trauma, it was denied 4 times. Then I was denied it because I've already had too much therapy with no result.
Right before the private surgery, I had gotten to know a guy who seemed nice and supportive in all of this. It seemed to be the only positive thing that was happening to me in those last months of being wheelchair bound and where I was fighting to be able to walk again. This person seemed to be and have everything I wanted in a person, even the same goals. I was feeling hopeful and optimistic again.
But I didn't want to get involved with anyone while rehabilitating because it had already taken a year with no progress, I didn't want to burden or drag along someone and disapoint them. I had turned down several guys during that year. And I had left the guy I went abroad with.
But all my friends told me to stop denying myself good things and to enjoy something. I tried to listen and I opened up. I never opened up so fast to someone before. I never felt so comfortable with someone before this fast. It was someone my own age and that somehow seemed as mature as all my older friends and me, and that had gone through a lot in life like me as well. I felt understood and that I could relax.
It takes a long time for me to trust and like someone, usually years. With this is took me a month or two. It was very unusal and scary. We were very open about past experiences and things we want. It just felt perfect and I was hopeful with it all. It all just ended up becoming a nightmare too. The first few months was perfect and I was really happy. But things just went bad and all these things I was told and that had happened, were all lies. I felt really devastated.
This person wasn't from my country, they lived abroad but told me they want to move and had lived abroad before. I felt more confident knowing that and more trusting in that statement. I let him visit me when I was able to walk a little more and when It had been some months since my last surgery. He said he wanted to move here and stay here for at least 3 months, which he did.
Considering how people have used me a lot in life financially and emotionally, I asked a lot if he was sure he could afford staying this long and if he was sure about this, he kept saying yes. I trusted him, I had never trusted someone so fast before. He was staying with me the entire time, and within some days or a week, I was told that he has no money and I have to pay for everything.
I was pretty shocked and stunned. I have a hard time spending any money because I want a lot saved up in case of emergencies, like the ankle situation, and I feel a lot of anxiety regarding spending money and guilt, because of my moms reckless money habits. It was very uncomfortable for me. I was unsure if I'm being used again, am I just a free vacation?
We had a big fight about it and it was a little phyical, I never thought a guy would ever do things like this to me as an adult. I just wanted him to leave. My friends told me to call the police and embassy to get him deported. With all my PTSD I felt guilty and horrible thinking about doing something like that to someone. I don't want someone else to get traumatized. I don't want someone to be on the street in a foreign country with no money, in the cold, and no food.
I let him stay and I tried to make it a positive experience, but I kept uncovering negative things and lies. It drained all of my energy and I felt so lost. I wanted to do a lot of good and fun things and have let him experience good things with me, but every time we were gonna do something exciting, something horrible could happen and I felt like I shouldn't reward that and cancelled it. I almost spent a total of 10k usd/euros on this relationship. A lot was from my savings.
I'm stuck in a cycle where I love this person, and I just feel horrible thinking about losing them. I know their life hasn't been easy and that a lot of bad things happen to them and that they struggle imensely. I don't want to leave them or give up on them, because I know how horrible it all is. But I also cannot do anything about the abuse and lies.
A lot of other things have happened with this relationship but I feel too drained to go into them.
My mom has spent this entire year since last december when I had my last surgery, to threaten me. Threaten to get me beat up and to come at my doorsteps. She's increasingly gotten a lot worse with her drinking issue and she's extremely aggitated. She blames me for ruining last year for her because she had to help me when I was in a wheelchair so she couldn't party for a year. She ended up moving to this town this summer to try and abuse me financially and emotionally. I get threats weekly from her.
My doctor, therapist and so on keep telling me to get a restraining order. But it is hard for me to report her to the police when I know how I'm suicidal and I have so much guilt for doing that to my dad. I know that if I report her that would be the end of my life because I wouldn't handle the pain, guilt and burden of that too. I wish she could get help, I wish the person I love would get help too. I don't hate any of them, I just want them to get help and to be okey.
I mentally hospitalized myself in August this year for first time in my life, because what happened between me and the person I love just really almost had me jump infront of a train. The PTSD just got too much. The past 6 months have been the worst in my life. I literally cant sleep, I cant handle the amount of flashbacks I get, I have to take sleep meds all the time to avoid them, which is not really possible when you got obligations and work to do all the time. The pills make me so sleepy that I'm drowsy for 15-17 hours when I take them.
The mental hospital help I got didn't help at all, It made me even more suicidal. I've ended up in another anorexia cycle as well. Everything's just so impossible to deal with. The health care system say there's nothing that can be done to improve my PTSD nor my suicidal thoughts. They've now given up on me and my last appointments are in January.
I spent these 13 years believing so strongly that I should keep staying alive despite thinking of suicide daily and weekly, because everyone kept saying things will get better. And I am now well beyond 18 and things just keep getting worse and worse every year beyond that I could ever imagine. I would have CTB when I was 11 if I knew this is how my life would turn out. I just keep thinking I don't know how it can get any worse than this, then it gets extremely much worse the next year. I can't take it anymore.
All the faith I had in people and life, is gone. I feel so unloveable. I feel like I will never be truly loved and accepted. I'll never be able to have a kid and my own little family. I just can't trust anyone anymore.
I've been a part of the forum now since the August of 2022. I lurked around for around 2 weeks before joining as I was searching for resources on various methods that I was considering at the time. I've never really introduced myself nor told my full story, only in bits and pieces accross some posts so I thought maybe I should do so now before I CTB. I'm in my mid 20s and I'm a female. For referance, I have severe C-PTSD so I'd prefer and appreciate for there to not be any arguing nor any offensive posts in this thread. Please be civil with each other and respectful. I apologize in advance for how long the story is.
I was born into a pretty standard family in Scandinavia. My parents were in their 30s and already had 2 kids togheter prior to having me, which would end up being the last child they ever had. They both had stable successfull careers and a house togheter in the middle of town.
Life was normal and good until I reached age 3. My earliest memories are from around age 2. We have a lot of photos and videos from when we were all growing up. All my earliest memories are great and of me being happy, having a normal life. However, when I was 3 my mom suddenly kicked my dad out one evening and I had no idea what was going on. I had never seen them argue before and I couldn't comprehend what was happening.
Nobody really ever told me what happened or what was going on. I kept waiting for my dad to come back home every evening, and he never did. I never got a clear answer when I asked where he was. I don't think I saw him for months. I kept asking to see him and I never was able to. I had a stronger bond with my dad than I did with my mom so it was extremely difficult for me.
I eventually got to see him again months later and he had then gotten an apartment that he'd bought. While my mom ended up selling our house and started renting another house which made my siblings, me and my mom all move. I was happy to see my dad again and I was still struggling to understand what was going on. But turns out my dad had cheated on my mom and he'd hide things and never communicate with her, is what I found out some years ago and was the reasons behind their break up.
It turns out that my dad had no interest in having contact with me nor my siblings at all, I didn't know this until some years ago. The only reason he eventually let me see him when he had gotten an apartment was that he had gotten a fiancée as well. I had never met this woman before and didn't know who she was. He'd bring me to his apartment and have me talk on the phone with her regularly with him. She lived in a town 9 hours away by car. She had 2 kids and had recently divorced the dad of her children and was renting a small apartment in her town. She had a successful career also and was older than my dad.
Eventually, me and one of my siblings went on a trip with my dad to visit and meet her. He had met her originally on a work trip and had traveled to see her several times. We met her and stayed in her vacation home which was a house in the middle of a village some hours away from the town she work and live in, the village had around 10 people living in it. Pretty much in the middle of nowhere and 2 hours from any stores. This is where she was born and grew up.
Ever since I first met her and one of her kids when I was 3, I was abused, molested and raped by her and this child. This would happen every time I went there, every day. I didn't know what any of those things were. I was told to not tell anyone about it and that they were «games» that people play with kids sometimes. Nothing ever happened to my sibling, they didn't abuse him and he didn't know that this happened to me. I was pulled aside into different rooms and isolated.
My dad knew what was happening, he was never a part of it nor did he ever lay a land on me, he'd walk away and go drink alcohol and block it out. I didn't know that what was happening to me was wrong and illegal until I was 11. My mom had shared custody of me with my dad always. I would live primarely with my mom and my 2 siblings, then go visit my dad every second weekend and during holidays and I'd be abused, isolated, molested and raped every time I went there by his wife and her son.
My bedroom in the house they bought togheter didn't have a door, it was in a basement right next to laundry machine, which she'd turn on during night so I couldn't sleep. The room was 2 meters long/6.5 feet, 1 meter wide/3.2 feet. It could only fit a simple small bed. All her kids had their own proper bedrooms upstairs. I'd be locked downstairs sometimes.
I got a lot of anxiety for different things eventually when I turned 6. The woman would abuse me a lot in showers, so I started getting scared of water and the sound of water. I'd start shaking a lot if I heard or saw water and got panic attacks. I'd get anxiety over trying new clothes on. She'd try to dress me as a boy and I was very uncomfortable with it all and made me scared. Whenever I'd arrive there from my mom's house with my packaged backpack of clothes that me and my mom got me, she'd take the clothes and hide them and hand me boy clothes instead. And return my actual clothes the day I was going home to my mom again.
I was given a cell phone by my mom when I was 6 because I'd always cycle around the town to all my friends and she'd worry about where I was and since I'd travel 9 hours away from her a lot of weekends to see my dad. Whenever I went to visit my dad and his wife they'd take my phone away from me to prevent me from being able to call my mom when I had my panic attacks, to keep me quiet and to keep the secrets.
I got more and more uncomfortable and aware that this isn't normal the older I got. I didn't really want to visit my dad anymore. But he'd yell at me and guilt trip me whenever I said I don't want to go. He also kidnapped me a few times, by taking me without letting my mom know and then hiding my phone. I wasn't aware that I was kidnapped because he'd tell that mom knew about the trip.
At 7, my mon started getting into bad relationships with alcoholic men that would move in with us, and she started getting some alcohol issues then. It was difficult to be around it all the time and listening to all the fighting and them hitting each other every night. I didn't feel safe anywhere. I really struggled in school. I could never sleep and I wasn't able to eat more than once a day typically. I just couldn't focus or concentrate. I got anxious around people who drank alcohol and I just couldn't calm down or sleep when I knew people were drinking.
My mom started hitting me and my siblings when I was 7 over small things, such as eating the last slice of salami or over our dog barking. I remember crying often and being confused over which home was worst to go to, my moms or my dads? Because I suffered so much in both places. All I really wanted was to have the same families that all my friends had and that maybe I could be adopted one day. I didn't feel loved or cared for.
I felt bad about my body and how I looked since I turned 8, and I continued to feel guilty and bad whenever I ate. I think this is when I started developing body dysmorphia. Especially since I'd be punished for eating. I was always frail and petite. I'd randomly gag and vomit whenever we ate dinner, I still don't know why. Maybe because I was too stressed and anxious to eat. My body would just reject food automatically.
My mom stopped caring about me and my siblings and neglected us while she partied and focused on herself. The neglection started when I was 4 but became a serious issue when I was 8. She'd tell me every day how annoying I am, how she want to send me to my dad so she can get a break, that I talk too much, and I wasnt allowed to sing anymore or play with my toys. I started withdrawing and becoming more quiet and closed off. I didn't feel wanted. It was difficult as I've always been very cheerful and extroverted.
Since she'd tell me she didn't want me weekly, I said maybe I should move to my dad. She hit me and told me to never say that ever again. I felt that maybe I could get help in school with learning things If I moved to my dad and went to a good school. All I wanted was for my parents to get back togheter, I wished for it so badly all the time, so things could be normal again. I kept missing my memories of how good things were when I was 2.
My moms alcoholic boyfriend that had lived with us since I was 7 until 10, suddenly left one day and stole her enitre savings account. He moved accross the entire country and went back to his ex wife. I was happy he left so I could sleep and relax since there would be no more fighting and alcohol. My mom kept partying though and she would never be home at night. I'd have to wake myself up every morning since I was 8 to get myself to schoo and make my own food because my mom would be asleep and hungover until I got back from school every day.
When I was turning 11, my dad took me and his wife and her son abroad for the entire summer. It was life changing for me. I was very depressed and I felt no meaning to my life. I still hadn't learned how to read or write. And everything was horrible all the time. My teachers in school would make fun of, punish and bully me for being unable to do anything, I never actually got any help with my issues.
When we spent those months abroad, I was still being abused by his wife and son. But the country we went to amazed me and made me feel so happy. I gained hope for my life and future. Ever since I went there, I just wanted to move there and go back. I told myself that things will get better, once I'm an adult I can actually move here and get away from all the abuse. I can do whatever I want then and be free. It became my life goal and the only thing keeping me alive and motivated.
When we got back from the trip, we stayed for a few weeks in the vacation house in the village of his wife. I had just reached puberty, before anyone else I knew and right after turning 11. His wife and her son had noticed that and became a lot more interested in abusing me even more than they already were. It increased so much that I just felt that I cannot do this anymore. I told myself that I have to tell my mom about this when I get home because I don't ever want to see these people ever again.
I told my mom about everything when she was in the garden on her birthday, the day before summer vacations was over and school would start again. It took 4 hours. My mom was super upset and during her birthday party with my siblings and her parents, she called and confronted my dad about everything I had told her. My dad yelled on the phone and called her a lot of insulting names, so loud that we could all hear. He then ended the call and called me, and told me I was never supposed to tell anyone and to keep my mouth shut.
When school started again, I went and talked to the school nurse who was supposed to be sort of a therapist. I told her everything. I only went to her because I needed to talk about it after having kept this to myself most of my life and puberty probably made it extremely difficult for me to keep carrying it. I also talked to her specifically because she said she had confidentialty so I knew she couldn't tell anyone else or police about it. It then broke me and my world when she told me after I had told her everything, that this is so severe that she has to break her confidentiality clause and that she ethically has to contact the police. This was not what I wanted at all.
I felt so guilty and ruined. She contacted the police and I felt so much guilt and pain over hurting my dad because I had broken my promise to him of protecting his new family and keeping their secrets. I was devastated. I became suicidal, extremely suicidal. The entire year was filled with police investigations, court hearings, therapy, and so on. It was awful. I ruined my entire family. I skipped school most of that year. I spent most of my days in my bedroom crying and holding a knife for hours and wanting to CTB. I just wanted to so badly, but I was tierd of all the physical pain so I was scared of that. I'd sleep with the knife next to me every night.
My mom didn't hug me or talk to me when I was crying. She'd completely ignore me. I felt banished and left out by everyone. I lost all my friends because I never went to school and I had too much anxiety to go outside because my dad tried to kidnap me 4 times when I walked to school and when I left the house. He'd sit outside our house for months and stand outside our door for many hours at a time, looking into my bedroom.
My mom wouldn't do anything about it or call cops, she didn't want to revoke his guardianship over me because she wanted to keep getting child support from him so she could keep partying. She left a lot of things out when she went to court and didn't help me because she cared more about the money.
I had to hold my phone in my hand all the time anywhere I went to feel safe and I'd call my grandmother so nobody would want to kidnap me. I still have to hold my phone often today to feel safe.
I felt betrayed and abandoned by everyone I cared about, and a horrible guilt that never went away after betraying my dad. The guilt is the reason I started feeling suicidal and why I've been suicidal for the past 13 years.
When I was 11 I got to see a psychologist who diagnosed me with moderate to severe PTSD, anxiety and depression. I only saw her 3 times because all she'd tell me is that well maybe you should keep visiting your dad, maybe you will regret this when you're 20 and so on. And I was like, you want me to visit my dad so I can keep being raped? And I didn't want to talk to her anymore. In my country if you are under 16, your parents can both see everything that you talk about medically and your medical journal. My dad would call the therapist and tell her what to do and read my files all the time. When I found out that that's the reason this woman is telling me crazy things, I stopped therapy until I turned 16.
From age 11 until 16 I had to deal with everything by myself. I had nobody to talk to or to ask for help from. Nobody cared. I was able to teach myself to read, write, other languages, and so on. I started doing well in school. I started getting used to being alone all the time and I'd spend all my spare time analysing people. It gave me a lot of comfort and peace. It helped me understand why people are the way they are and why they do what they do. Being able to understand why, how, and so on really helps me let go and move on. I got so used to being alone despite being so extroverted, that I stopped feeling lonely and I enjoyed my own company and the peace. I'd keep making friends but it was hard to feel stimulated or interested because I didn't feel that people my age understood much of what I was interested in and the spot I was at in life. I'd eventually stop talking to them.
I had every kind of therapy and treatment there is for PTSD and depression when I was 16 to 19 and now this past year, except for ECT because they deny me it because they don't want to cause brain damage.
When I was 16 I was able to get a very good and understanding trauma specialist therapist and I got to see a few neuvrologists. I learned that my learning issues were from my PTSD and from short term memory issues that also stemmed from it along with a weak work memory. But that my long term memory was great. However, all we tried to improve it didn't work. And eventually after trying all sorts of therapy there was to try without any improvement nor results, my therapist just started telling me every time I saw her that I should become one and she wish she could break her confidentiality so I could help her other patients. We'd just spend all our remaining time togheter talking about philosophy and other psychological and medical cases. It was a surreal experience. She and other therapists also then asked me to write a book on PTSD some time. When I ended my therapy to go study in University, I ended up with the final diagnosis of severe depression and C-PTSD and I was told that nothing will probably ever improve or cure it.
During all of this, I ended up getting groomed and gaslighted at age 15 by a guy who was 9 years older than me. I kept it to myself and some of my older friends. I didn't mention it to anyone. I didn't actually realise that I was being groomed and I didn't know what gaslighting was. I felt that it was a little weird that someone 9 years older would talk to a 15 year old in a romanic and sexual way, but I felt so understood and supported. I could finally talk to someone about all these intellectual things and be understood, I felt like I was talking to someone who was equal to me. I didn't feel bored.
I gave up on being around people my age because I had nothing in common with them. I felt a lot more comfortable and happy around people more mature and who knew a lot of things, where there could be held a discussion. I appreciate all that this person ever did for me. They helped me through a lot and with many things. But when I got older and realised the other things they did to me that was illegal and not okey, it really hit me hard and it worsened my depression and my PTSD quite a lot. I was devastated and it took me a year to recover. I spent 6 years around this person and it is sad and bizzare to say that they are one of the better people I've known in life while I also feel a lot of hate for them. It is the only person I feel hatred for.
I went to University at 19, had a lot of ups and downs and unexpected events happen that made things more difficult than they ever should have been and I never expected these things to ever happen. I started to lose hope in what was motivating me to stay alive, which was moving abroad and being free, like I had planned since I was 11.
I was still living at home when I was 21 and trying to keep studying. My mom kept renting, I'm not sure why she never bought another house. We had moved around 13 times since I was born, but we rented this house since I was 16. One day our landlords delivered us a letter of eviction, because they wanted to rent out the entire house to their grandson. We had 3 months on us to move. I had a lot of stress going on with the study situation and with the situation that was going on with the guy that was 9 years older. I felt pretty stuck physically due to all the PTSD, and then this made it even worse. I was really suicidal at the time. I was crying every morning and thinking of ways to CTB, but my depression made me unable to have any energy at all.
My mom somehow got a boyfriend and moved in with him before the eviction period was up, I had a surgery a couple days before we got the eviction note, so I was recovering from the surgery all the next 3 months in which I had to move. My mom said she would not lift a single thing from the house nor help us move. The house had 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and 3 floors.
I had basically summer vacation on me to figure out what to do. My mom would ignore me and my siblings, we had no way to contact her, she abandoned us and didn't care about us at all. She focused on abusing her boyfriend, using him for money and using him for a free place to stay. I applied to 400 jobs in 2 months. I spent 12 hours a day browsing jobs and apartments. With my PTSD and all the hardship I had faced, I refused to end up on welfare, that was never an option. I wanted a job or to study. That's all I've worked for. Move out day arrived, I had still not gotten any job offers. I could keep studying. But I hadn't heard anything from the dorms.
My siblings found an apartment for the 2 of them to rent togheter and moved there. I ended up being homeless for a month and living in a garden shed and sometimes on their sofa. I'd go to hotels and some peoples living rooms for Zoom interviews as some places started using Zoom at the time. The housing market in my home town is very limited, it's hard to find anything to rent and all the dorms were filled. I had a lot of money saved up, around 10k usd/euros but I didn't want to waste it.
I realised that this was the perfect time to move abroad. My mom had been hindering me from doing so since I was 19 to keep me stuck around her to keep demanding money from me. But now that she moved in with a guy and didn't need us financially anymore and couldn't guilt trip me, I did it.
I moved abroad, I stayed in a Bed and Breakfast for 1 week. I was exhaused the first 3 days. I couldn't eat, I was tierd the entire time and slept 15 hours a day. I had a lot of break downs. Even though I had a lot of money saved up for emergency, I asked my best friend if I could borrow some from him in case I needed it. He helped me and supported me moving. I had never asked anyone for money before and it was very difficult. I think with all the betrayals and my PTSD, I have been scared to not be independant, because I realised I can't really depend on anyone, so asking for help has always been difficult.
I went on 9 apartment showings. I got offered 7 of them. I chose the apartment I wanted to live in after 7 days in BnB and I moved in the day after. The owner was a psychologist and a doctor and we got to talk about a lot of interesting things togheter. I got a job and started studying instantly too, everything was going well so fast. I made a very solid and good friend group with people from the country and a lot of other countries. We'd hang out every day.
But I really missed my best friend and the guy I was with for 8 years. It was hard to have so little contact with them. I was getting optimistic about my future again, and I shared it with my boyfriend. I told him we can finally do all the things we had been planning, and he suddenly told me he don't ever want to see me again. It ruined me. Things were going well overall in life but my PTSD and the amount of stress I was carrying was almost enough to make me collapse.
I had done everything he had asked of me and proven that I'm independant and he suddenly didn't want me anymore. I left and he kept coming back every day, pretending like we never broke up. Just constantly gaslighting me to the extreme and denying that he ever said or did anything, when there were texts of what he said and did. He then tried to contact me often when I was working and when I was trying to do my studying. It really upset me and I started getting more and more angry because I was heart broken. There had always been abuse and gaslighting but it was extreme now, along with stalking.
It all ended badly, and I didn't handle it well. I kept myself busy all day and night long with parties, my friends, work, studies, and hiking, working out, and so on. Despite how much I'd do in a day and how busy I'd be, I had so many flashbacks, nightmares and such strong PTSD from all those 8 years. It felt so unbearable to live. I cried daily when I got home and I just couldn't do anything to avoid the trauma. Half a year later when corona hit as well, I went rope shopping and I looked for suitable trees nearby. I couldn't take it anymore. I felt like I had gone insane.
I was advancing well at work, within my friend groups, and so on. People were treating me well and I should have felt happy, but I felt empty and I couldn't feel anything but missery. I was doing all the things I always wanted to, and I just couldn't feel anything but depressed and suicidal.
The only thing that made me stop thinking about suicide, was 1 guy 2 months prior to corona happening. He treated me so well. I felt hope in people and in life again. It's the most impactful person I've met. I started believing that nice people maybe do exist. It gave me optimism, and it felt great to not feel suicidal and to have a break from PTSD for first time in 10 years. I was able to relax and feel happy. But corona really broke me down again and my PTSD resuming and reminding me of all the memories I cannot escape.
Corona became too much for me mentally, the physical limits that were imposed were too small and I couldn't handle it. I felt physically restricted and trapped like when I was a child and a teen. It worsened everything so much. I ended up moving back to my home country which was a lot more relaxed and didn't really have physical restrictions, not anywhere close to where I was living.
It was bittersweet to move back to this country, the country I've hated and wanted to leave and that has been my motivation to stay alive. I kept feeling suicidal and unhappy here. Word limit, will continue story below in new post.
I then started looking into the CO and gas method. I decided on trying the helium one. I got a mask and I was going to order the helium. Then one of my friends said maybe we should go abroad for a trip. They knew that I'd get a break from PTSD when I travel usually and I'd maybe feel happier and non suicidal if I get away from the country for a while.
We started a relationship as well and decided on where to travel. It was difficult with all the corona restrictions. We didn't have much to pick from. We ended up going somewhere and everything seemed fine. But on day 3 of the trip that was supposed to last 2 weeks, I fell off a bus and I broke both my ankles. We were around 13 hours away by plane from home country. I had so much pain and I couldn't believe what was happening.
I have a story of eating disorders, with anorexia. Prior to the trip I had been starving myself and not eating much. I don't know if that contributed to the breaking.
It was a nightmare. I just wanted to go home. I was told by doctors that I'd have to get a surgery on one of my ankles. I had 5 fractures in total. It just felt so surreal. I couldn't comprehend anything the first few hours, I thought it was all a bizzare joke. I didn't want to have a surgery abroad in an unknown country where I didn't speak the language. I got my ticket changed and decided to go home next day.
Airport doctor and doctors I had seen day prior stated that I was fit to fly. I couldn't walk on my ankles so I was wheelchair bound. I had taken corona test and it was negative. Everything was clear for the flight and I had gotten airport special assistance. When I get to the gate, 1 of the air hostesses deny me boarding for no reason, stating she dont want me to sue them if my feet get even more broken or damaged during the flight. I sit at the gate and watch the fly depart. This happens 3 more times for 3 more days.
I had to contact the airline and get new tickets, 3 times. The person I was with left without me, I was stuck on an airport by myself for 3 days. In the end, I had to contact my embassy in the country and get an offical letters from them to tell the airline that they cannot deny me boarding to my home country as I need medical attention and I'm a citizent. I was finally able to board the 3rd flight then.
I was put in an ambulance instantly when I landed and I was put into corona isolation at the hospital, despite 4 more new negative corona tests. I was then transported with ambulance for another 7 hours the next day, to the hospital in my town, because the hospital I was in originally had too little capacity due to corona.
I got sent to the hospital in the town I live in and I begged them not to. You normally have free choice of hospital here by law, but not during corona. I had recently moved to this town and I had no family here and not a big network. I wanted to be sent to my hometown. I just kept being denied it.
I arrived at the new hospital and I got corona tested 5 more times, all negative. I had to wait 16 days for my ankle surgery, because I had to corona isolate for 14 days. I tried to suicide in the hospital on oxy and a bottle of whiskey I had in my suitcase during night. I survived. I told them I tried to suicide and nobody cared. I asked to see a trauma psychologist for 1 week and I was denied every day. I had to get my friends to call the hospital for them to finally let me talk to someone. She said I should not be corona tested anymore nor be in isolation because it will kill me and worsen my PTSD, nobody listened. I wasnt allowed to get any visit from anyone, nor to get gifts or food sent to me. I didn't really eat for 2 weeks, I just drank water.
I was working from my hospital bed and on the surgery day. The surgery took 6 hours. I was told it would take 1. I lost some of my closest friends when I broke my ankles and laid in hospital, because people said I have too much bad karma and got scared that they will somehow get bad karma and bad luck too.
I was told I'd end up with 3 screws, the xray lady told me the day after that I had 12 screws and 1 metal plate. I was in so much pain and I was being denied pain medicine.
I was told that I can leave hospital and I have to ask my mom to come down to this town and take care of me. I asked her to because nobody else I know would be able to. She denied helping me. I begged for 3 weeks. I got home to my apartment and I had lost all my muscles since I had been bedbound and wheelchaired for 3 weeks almost. I could barely roll myself around to get to the store. It took 1 hour to roll myself to store and back home again, a store that is 5 minutes away by walking and it was snowy and icy.
I felt like this is it, my life is completely ruined. My mom eventually traveled to me when she realised she could use me for money again as she and her boyfriend had broken up. She yelled at me and abused me weekly, then it started being daily. It was a living nightmare.
I was told I'd be able to walk and heal in 2 months. 2 months later I'm told everythings healed and I can use crutches now. I could walk 50 steps. I'd try to walk every day. I had so much pain and none of the opioids I got helped. I was crying all the time. I could feel half of my foot anymore.
I messaged my personal doctor from my home town with the xray photos and asked what do I do, she said I need rehabilitation because it's such severe fractures. Which the hospital told me it wasnt and that I wouldn't need any help to relearn walking.
I found a physical foot therapist and I didn't remember how to walk at all. I'd go there 3 times a week. I worked out really hard but I was stuck at 200 steps. I just couldn't walk more than that. The pain got worse and worse.
I went to the hospital again and they told me it actually isnt healed. All the fractures are still open. They had barely healed at all. I also found out from a private surgeon that the screws were pushing into my joint, something the public hospital surgeons told me it wasnt, but their own radiologists kept saying it was. So I had a bunch of screws I didn't need, placed by a surgeon who isn't a foot surgeon, in a public hospital, who'd done this to hundreads of other people as well.
I had to pay thousands to go to a private surgeon to remove some of the screws, and an hour later I could walk 5000 steps. I went from walking 200 steps every day for a year to 5000 the same day without crutches.
The entire year I had been told that I'm lazy by my mom, that I'm doing nothing to heal, that it's my fault that this happened, and that I ruined my own life. I had flashbacks from being stuck in that hospital bed and from being stuck in an airport every single day. I was denied trauma therapy because it was too soon after the trauma, it was denied 4 times. Then I was denied it because I've already had too much therapy with no result.
Right before the private surgery, I had gotten to know a guy who seemed nice and supportive in all of this. It seemed to be the only positive thing that was happening to me in those last months of being wheelchair bound and where I was fighting to be able to walk again. This person seemed to be and have everything I wanted in a person, even the same goals. I was feeling hopeful and optimistic again.
But I didn't want to get involved with anyone while rehabilitating because it had already taken a year with no progress, I didn't want to burden or drag along someone and disapoint them. I had turned down several guys during that year. And I had left the guy I went abroad with.
But all my friends told me to stop denying myself good things and to enjoy something. I tried to listen and I opened up. I never opened up so fast to someone before. I never felt so comfortable with someone before this fast. It was someone my own age and that somehow seemed as mature as all my older friends and me, and that had gone through a lot in life like me as well. I felt understood and that I could relax.
It takes a long time for me to trust and like someone, usually years. With this is took me a month or two. It was very unusal and scary. We were very open about past experiences and things we want. It just felt perfect and I was hopeful with it all. It all just ended up becoming a nightmare too. The first few months was perfect and I was really happy. But things just went bad and all these things I was told and that had happened, were all lies. I felt really devastated.
This person wasn't from my country, they lived abroad but told me they want to move and had lived abroad before. I felt more confident knowing that and more trusting in that statement. I let him visit me when I was able to walk a little more and when It had been some months since my last surgery. He said he wanted to move here and stay here for at least 3 months, which he did.
Considering how people have used me a lot in life financially and emotionally, I asked a lot if he was sure he could afford staying this long and if he was sure about this, he kept saying yes. I trusted him, I had never trusted someone so fast before. He was staying with me the entire time, and within some days or a week, I was told that he has no money and I have to pay for everything.
I was pretty shocked and stunned. I have a hard time spending any money because I want a lot saved up in case of emergencies, like the ankle situation, and I feel a lot of anxiety regarding spending money and guilt, because of my moms reckless money habits. It was very uncomfortable for me. I was unsure if I'm being used again, am I just a free vacation?
We had a big fight about it and it was a little phyical, I never thought a guy would ever do things like this to me as an adult. I just wanted him to leave. My friends told me to call the police and embassy to get him deported. With all my PTSD I felt guilty and horrible thinking about doing something like that to someone. I don't want someone else to get traumatized. I don't want someone to be on the street in a foreign country with no money, in the cold, and no food.
I let him stay and I tried to make it a positive experience, but I kept uncovering negative things and lies. It drained all of my energy and I felt so lost. I wanted to do a lot of good and fun things and have let him experience good things with me, but every time we were gonna do something exciting, something horrible could happen and I felt like I shouldn't reward that and cancelled it. I almost spent a total of 10k usd/euros on this relationship. A lot was from my savings.
I'm stuck in a cycle where I love this person, and I just feel horrible thinking about losing them. I know their life hasn't been easy and that a lot of bad things happen to them and that they struggle imensely. I don't want to leave them or give up on them, because I know how horrible it all is. But I also cannot do anything about the abuse and lies.
A lot of other things have happened with this relationship but I feel too drained to go into them.
My mom has spent this entire year since last december when I had my last surgery, to threaten me. Threaten to get me beat up and to come at my doorsteps. She's increasingly gotten a lot worse with her drinking issue and she's extremely aggitated. She blames me for ruining last year for her because she had to help me when I was in a wheelchair so she couldn't party for a year. She ended up moving to this town this summer to try and abuse me financially and emotionally. I get threats weekly from her.
My doctor, therapist and so on keep telling me to get a restraining order. But it is hard for me to report her to the police when I know how I'm suicidal and I have so much guilt for doing that to my dad. I know that if I report her that would be the end of my life because I wouldn't handle the pain, guilt and burden of that too. I wish she could get help, I wish the person I love would get help too. I don't hate any of them, I just want them to get help and to be okey.
I mentally hospitalized myself in August this year for first time in my life, because what happened between me and the person I love just really almost had me jump infront of a train. The PTSD just got too much. The past 6 months have been the worst in my life. I literally cant sleep, I cant handle the amount of flashbacks I get, I have to take sleep meds all the time to avoid them, which is not really possible when you got obligations and work to do all the time. The pills make me so sleepy that I'm drowsy for 15-17 hours when I take them.
The mental hospital help I got didn't help at all, It made me even more suicidal. I've ended up in another anorexia cycle as well. Everything's just so impossible to deal with. The health care system say there's nothing that can be done to improve my PTSD nor my suicidal thoughts. They've now given up on me and my last appointments are in January.
I spent these 13 years believing so strongly that I should keep staying alive despite thinking of suicide daily and weekly, because everyone kept saying things will get better. And I am now well beyond 18 and things just keep getting worse and worse every year beyond that I could ever imagine. I would have CTB when I was 11 if I knew this is how my life would turn out. I just keep thinking I don't know how it can get any worse than this, then it gets extremely much worse the next year. I can't take it anymore.
All the faith I had in people and life, is gone. I feel so unloveable. I feel like I will never be truly loved and accepted. I'll never be able to have a kid and my own little family. I just can't trust anyone anymore.
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take care .
