Trigger Warning: Childhood Abuse
It hasn’t quite been an hour yet. I managed to write the two instances I remember down, even if it isn’t very detailed. Before I type them up, I feel like I should give some background on some things.
When I was a kid, we lived in a three bedroom, on bathroom house. My brother and I slept in the same bedroom and often the same bed as my parents. This changed after I started my period when I was a 11, at which point I was not allowed to. My brother was. I was ‘banished’ to the floor until I finally cleaned up a bedroom upstairs for myself and set up a bed, which was a mattress on a frame with a blanket and a pillow.
When it came to the bathroom, there was 4 people who may need to use the bathroom. The only access to my parents’ bedroom was through the bathroom, so we weren’t supposed to lock it. Also, if someone needed to pee if someone else was showering, you just went in and did your business after announcing so. Privacy didn’t exactly exist.
Okay, onto the flashbacks/memories/whatever the fuck they are.
In the first one, which I’ve ‘remembered’ for years, I am laying down in the bed. I can feel the blankets and sheets bunched up beneath me. I am both cold and hot. I am cold because there is an air conditioner that runs 24/7 and 3 fans in the bedroom. I am also hot because my dad is kneeling on top of me. I can feel his whiskers on my face. I am naked and scared and ashamed. I end up floating my mind up and going into the closet where I always thought there was a magic portal to a different world. I don’t remember anything beyond that.
In the second one, I am taking a bath/shower. The water is up to my ankles. I am sitting on the edge of the bathtub in a towel and my pink and purple training bra. I hadn’t figured out how to take it off so I wore it for bathing. My back is to the door and my dad is peeing and he finishes and flushes. He comes up behind me and undoes my towel and reaches up under my bra and rolls my nipple under his thumb and fingers. I feel the ceramic edge of the bathtub and feel the cold burn of shame before I float down the drain.
Another thing I remember is more of a physical sense of someone shoving a penis in my mouth, although I’m unsure if it’s related to my childhood since that’s actually happened a lot to me.
And that’s it. I’ve been having a lot of nightmares relating to these things. And a lot of flashbacks. It feels real and it tastes real. I think I mostly just don’t want it to be real.
I have an urge to cut because I feel dissociated and when I feel dissociated like this, I used to cut. I just have to keep reminding myself that I’m okay. I’d really like to ride this urge out and not do it.
Thank you for your time.
-The Sarcastic Autist