So I'm new to this group. Hi all.

An account of why;

I am the bio child of a borderline/narcissistic mom and depressed dad. Have one older adopted male sibling 7 years older than me, who sexually abused me as far back as I can recall, which is about 2 yrs old, but could have been further back, I don't know. He carried this on for years, threatening to kill me if I told, and I was terrified he would kill me.

He performed various sexual acts on me, showed me pornography, groomed me to believe it was normal telling me all brothers do this to their sisters, made me do some repulsive things that I still cannot acknowledge in words, and tried to get me to do other absolutely disgusting acts, which I refused ( my small triumph!).
He also stole from me, habitually lied, blamed me. He beat me in the head with an aluminum ball bat which I still bear a dent in my skull from.

He lied to my parents, raged at everyone, constantly tried to physically fight my father, screamed at everyone, stole from everyone, got suspended from school, failed his classes.
I mention this because, due to this, the impetus was placed on me to be the success in the family, so that my narcissistic mother could get the kind of attention she wanted.

The sexual abuse finally stopped when I was about 10 or 11, after he tried to spear me with a pitchfork and I was so scared I told my mom he was trying to kill me. Even though she laughed at me, she saw I was scared and asked him about it, which was enough to make the stupid coward stop.

He continued his other behaviors but at least left me alone sexually.


My mother, on the other hand, goes from loving me above all else to hating me. "What would I be without you?", she asks one day only to tell me I'm "horrible" the next. She has done this since my birth. If I do something well, something that brings her positive attention, I am invaluable. If I disagree, have a different feeling or opinion than she, or fail, I am horrible and she goes around telling everyone how terrible I am to her and they pity her for her terrible daughter and she gets the attention she wants that way instead.

I am not, nor ever have been, a person to her. I am an object only. Here to provide her "fix" (that's how she described it herself even). She thinks that this is what love is. She thinks that her obsession with me, her stalking me, her refusal to allow me any boundaries, her emotional hostage-taking is love. It is only about her and her constant need for attention, admiration, drama.

I have been denied personhood for so long that I do not even feel human.

My father, who so aptly demonstrated unresolved approval issues with his mother in her final days, hovers around my mother as if gaining her approval will finally make him whole. He is a greatly intelligent man, quick in wit and who loves to laugh, but who falls into deep depressions and disappears.

The family dynamic honestly resembles that of an addict's, with my mothers addiction to herself and to her everlasting songs of praise to herself and her virtues (church mouse).

It used to shock me that no one noticed the blatant sexual abuse I was enduring, what with nightly terrors and nightmares waking the whole house, the pants wetting issues I struggled with at the first sign of anxiety, my shyness, my frequent anxiety and feigning of headaches and stomach aches...I threw off so many signs. But with a mother obsessed with herself and a father lost in his own black hole, who was there to notice me? Years later she would ask, after too many glasses of wine, why I hated my brother so, and did he ever hurt me. I lied. But it showed me that she suspected. And still did nothing.

My reaction to this combination of family members was that I overcompensated.

Straight A's, gifted program, young authors conference, child beauty pageant winner, I sang, I danced. I went to State Science fair, won environmental science awards, I played volleyball, softball league champs, basketball, on every committee, choral awards, played instruments, lead in the musicals year after year. None of it even felt good, but I put on a good show. "Don't forget to sparkle" my mom always said.

(I have a B.A. and two Masters degrees, all from nationally ranked programs. Rigorous curriculums,they say. My last Masters I graduated with a 4.0.

I feel no sense of accomplishment.)

After leaving home, in undergrad, I worked 3rd shift as a police dispatcher. I went to a Police/Sheriff's New Years Eve party with an officer and was drugged and raped. I had alcohol poisoning and was given too much of the drug put in my drink and almost died, but was never taken to hospital. They cared more about their jobs than my life. I only remember flashes, but one is of an ex-officer who I had turned down for a date wiping his semen off my stomach with a paper towel before leaving me half-naked on a living room floor while other officers milled about the party.

I was taken to my house and dumped on the couch. I woke up over 24 hours later soaked in my own urine and when I tried to get up to go clean myself up, found I could not walk. It would be another day of twitching and shaking and sweating until I gained muscle control enough to walk.

I mention these later things because it is a result of my past abuse.

I do not feel human.
I do not trust.
I don't understand myself.
I dont know how to understand my needs or how to get them met.
I feel inferior.
I wonder who I might have been.
I get depressed.
I'm anxious constantly.
I have CPTSD.
I struggle in my marriage.
I isolate, and don't have many friends.
I cannot feel proud of myself.

I have constantly wished to never have been born, until the birth of my son, who inspires for the first time in my life true happiness.

And hope.

Which is why I'm here. I hope through this, that I can help others to, and be helped to understand, what has happened and what in the world to do...

Love to all,
Annie