All my life, my family have told me that I'm a whore, stupid, and an attention-seeker. I never missed a single class in school, and had good grades and was never allowed to attend after school programs, my dad was convinced I was a whore sleeping around. My brother called me a whore and insulted me with his friends. He caused me to lose my own friends when he started fighting with them, and I had to defend him. He gets in my face and insults me regularly. My brother was invited by my dad so they could humiliate me jointly for whatever was happening in my life. similar to when I was thirteen and someone was grooming me on Discord. Since kindergarten, I've been called a whore by my family, but being manipulated by a predator made the attacks hurt more.
The predator convinced me no one else would love me. No one else will treat me like they treat me. They didn't blame me for what happened to me. They said they will only keep being nice to me if I only gave them pictures of myself. I didn't want to, I thought they were the only person who wouldn't abuse me to the extent everyone else has. I did not understand this was a form of abuse itself until it was too late. They then began to blackmail me, saying they will post the pictures if I did not send more. I refused, and they ghosted me. My dad checked my PC one day while I was at school. He pulled me into his room and brought my brother along.
My dad and brother called me a whore and mocked me for what happened. They took turns doing it. Laughing at me, calling me a thot. My dad didn't let me leave to my room until they were done berating me. He offered no help, only insults and blaming me.
Or when I went to my school about self harming when I was sixteen. For the first time I left in the middle of class. My teacher called my name, shocked that I had simply gotten up and began walking out. I told her I was sorry before I left. I went to the counselor who said they will have to get mental health services and my parents involved. When school ended, they had to tell my father. He yelled at me to take a seat when the counselor attempted to speak with him. After he drove off, he started yelling and swearing at me for trying to get assistance. I listened to his advice to lie to the medical staff. I tried to acquire outside aid when I had no help at home, and he chastised me for it. He said that I was hurting myself to get attention. Even after I pulled him away, my brother insisted on pulling up my sleeve so he could view my wounds. After that, my dad enjoyed trying to get me to damage myself once more.
Almost everyday after school my father used to bring me into his room to berate me for hours, and occasionally bring in my brother to do it too. It taught me from an early age that I will never escape the abuse. It was at home, then at school, and no one will save me.
Even when I was attacked by people twice my size in school in class, no one was there to protect me. Teachers will either encourage students or do nothing. My father has always held me responsible for his misfortunes. He will make me cry no matter how well I did on an exam or how well I did in school because there was still something, something, wrong with me. Even when I had teachers who could attest to the fact that I was in class or receiving assistance due to bullying, I was still lying. Even though it was physically impossible for me to interact with anyone, I was a whore. Even though I got As on all of my tests and passed every exam, I was still stupid. No matter what I do or say, I am invalidated.
I believed myself to be free. However, the memories of all the anguish are now resurfacing. There are never any quiet times. My college classes are no longer passable for me. I find it difficult to concentrate on my work. I constantly feel threatened. From my own family or from other people. The abuse—both physical and psychological—keeps happening again and again, and I believe that everyone is dangerous. Weakness is easily seen by others, who will view that weakness as a target. I will never again feel safe.
And it took place once more. I asked about one of our pets, mentioning that I was worried about them being ill due to odd lumps on their back. I remember one of my other family member's cat having similar issues before they were diagnosed with cancer. I told my dad I'm scared our pet can have a chance of having something similar going on. I insisted on bringing our pet to the veterinarian to find out what the root cause is. As my brother passes by, my father says to him I'm putting in the air that our pet has cancer. My brother says I'm pretending to be smart. That I'm pretending I know what I'm talking about. They keep talking back and forth about who and what I am as I stand right there, in silence. That I'm stupid and worthless. They keep talking about me as I walk away in silence.
I kept quiet, realizing that nothing had changed. I remain here. I have stood there since I was ten. Even though I feel like my life is going apart, I'm still here, even though I'm in my twenties. Defenseless. assaulted. emotionally and verbally mistreated. To make fun of me, they have a whole discussion about me with each other right in front of me. for was a red-eyed, enraged father looking down at me cursing and shouting me into submission. Or having my mother smash me against a wall and then physically assault me. And before long, they'll feel strong enough to harm me once more. And I have no ability to stop it. As long as I live, I shall never be free. Even if I escape the memories will cripple my mind and bring me back there all over again.
This is why I'm pro-choice. It is impossible to avoid trauma or abuse if you are born into it. My family mistreated me. I was never taught what it meant to be treated kindly, therefore I accepted bullying from my peers because I believed it to be the standard. Trying to please my family was the only way to stop them from hurting me. I learned from it to attempt to please those who are mistreating me. My family abused me for looking for help. That taught me not to ask for assistance. I still have no idea how to interact with everyday people.
Abuse creates a never-ending loop in which the victim experiences the abuse both in person and in memory. Misuse breeds mistreatment. My goal is to get away from it. My only way out is through death. I want my account to be shut as soon as I obtain SN and CTB so that my family cannot enjoy violating my privacy one last time. I can let them laugh at my corpse.
The predator convinced me no one else would love me. No one else will treat me like they treat me. They didn't blame me for what happened to me. They said they will only keep being nice to me if I only gave them pictures of myself. I didn't want to, I thought they were the only person who wouldn't abuse me to the extent everyone else has. I did not understand this was a form of abuse itself until it was too late. They then began to blackmail me, saying they will post the pictures if I did not send more. I refused, and they ghosted me. My dad checked my PC one day while I was at school. He pulled me into his room and brought my brother along.
My dad and brother called me a whore and mocked me for what happened. They took turns doing it. Laughing at me, calling me a thot. My dad didn't let me leave to my room until they were done berating me. He offered no help, only insults and blaming me.
Or when I went to my school about self harming when I was sixteen. For the first time I left in the middle of class. My teacher called my name, shocked that I had simply gotten up and began walking out. I told her I was sorry before I left. I went to the counselor who said they will have to get mental health services and my parents involved. When school ended, they had to tell my father. He yelled at me to take a seat when the counselor attempted to speak with him. After he drove off, he started yelling and swearing at me for trying to get assistance. I listened to his advice to lie to the medical staff. I tried to acquire outside aid when I had no help at home, and he chastised me for it. He said that I was hurting myself to get attention. Even after I pulled him away, my brother insisted on pulling up my sleeve so he could view my wounds. After that, my dad enjoyed trying to get me to damage myself once more.
Almost everyday after school my father used to bring me into his room to berate me for hours, and occasionally bring in my brother to do it too. It taught me from an early age that I will never escape the abuse. It was at home, then at school, and no one will save me.
Even when I was attacked by people twice my size in school in class, no one was there to protect me. Teachers will either encourage students or do nothing. My father has always held me responsible for his misfortunes. He will make me cry no matter how well I did on an exam or how well I did in school because there was still something, something, wrong with me. Even when I had teachers who could attest to the fact that I was in class or receiving assistance due to bullying, I was still lying. Even though it was physically impossible for me to interact with anyone, I was a whore. Even though I got As on all of my tests and passed every exam, I was still stupid. No matter what I do or say, I am invalidated.
I believed myself to be free. However, the memories of all the anguish are now resurfacing. There are never any quiet times. My college classes are no longer passable for me. I find it difficult to concentrate on my work. I constantly feel threatened. From my own family or from other people. The abuse—both physical and psychological—keeps happening again and again, and I believe that everyone is dangerous. Weakness is easily seen by others, who will view that weakness as a target. I will never again feel safe.
And it took place once more. I asked about one of our pets, mentioning that I was worried about them being ill due to odd lumps on their back. I remember one of my other family member's cat having similar issues before they were diagnosed with cancer. I told my dad I'm scared our pet can have a chance of having something similar going on. I insisted on bringing our pet to the veterinarian to find out what the root cause is. As my brother passes by, my father says to him I'm putting in the air that our pet has cancer. My brother says I'm pretending to be smart. That I'm pretending I know what I'm talking about. They keep talking back and forth about who and what I am as I stand right there, in silence. That I'm stupid and worthless. They keep talking about me as I walk away in silence.
I kept quiet, realizing that nothing had changed. I remain here. I have stood there since I was ten. Even though I feel like my life is going apart, I'm still here, even though I'm in my twenties. Defenseless. assaulted. emotionally and verbally mistreated. To make fun of me, they have a whole discussion about me with each other right in front of me. for was a red-eyed, enraged father looking down at me cursing and shouting me into submission. Or having my mother smash me against a wall and then physically assault me. And before long, they'll feel strong enough to harm me once more. And I have no ability to stop it. As long as I live, I shall never be free. Even if I escape the memories will cripple my mind and bring me back there all over again.
This is why I'm pro-choice. It is impossible to avoid trauma or abuse if you are born into it. My family mistreated me. I was never taught what it meant to be treated kindly, therefore I accepted bullying from my peers because I believed it to be the standard. Trying to please my family was the only way to stop them from hurting me. I learned from it to attempt to please those who are mistreating me. My family abused me for looking for help. That taught me not to ask for assistance. I still have no idea how to interact with everyday people.
Abuse creates a never-ending loop in which the victim experiences the abuse both in person and in memory. Misuse breeds mistreatment. My goal is to get away from it. My only way out is through death. I want my account to be shut as soon as I obtain SN and CTB so that my family cannot enjoy violating my privacy one last time. I can let them laugh at my corpse.
