Surviving Institutional Abuse
Decided to add this post comment to my journal... Can't decide whether it belongs in Conquer PTSD Impairments or Pick What I NEED in Life.
I'd put it in conquer impairments because... what happened re-traumatised me and is also symptomatic of the trauma I already had... I couldn't speak because I CAN'T... (depersonalisation, dissociation... inability to ask for help... difficulty communicating... extreme distrust of people... arggghhh!
I'd put it in Pick What I NEED because... I need this experience put "right"... it set me off on an incredibly self-destructive path... refusing help, battling on alone, getting more and more confused... I spent years after this wanting to not exist... I wasn't there for myself... and bad things happened...
So, which one? Oh, it has let me select BOTH... let's see what HAPPENS though when I hit post, lol...
When I was thirteen I somehow ended up being sent to "counselling" I'd kept quiet about my childhood trauma but I guess my increasingly isolated, wry, grim manner ended up dobbing me in... Anyway, I was taken to a strange building, dumped in a small room (argh, No! My anxiety shot through the roof as I have claustrophobia), recording equipment was set up with a camera pointing right AT me, I waited there a while staring malevolently at the camera, lol... then a complete stranger walks in, sits down, and proceeds to ask me questions... somehow I survive this interrogation and when the hour (I guess it was an hour I have no idea because I dissociated and don't remember much...) was up they said, "See you next week!"... I was in turmoil... Every week I was taken to that building, spent my hour saying as little as possible and hoping to get out of there as quickly as possible... I have no idea how many weeks it took before the "therapist" gave up and let me be... The only distinct memory I have from that whole experience is them saying, "You are 13 going on 30..." as a sarcastic, dismissive commentary on my attitude to life... I bet they never rifled through rubbish bins for food because they were starving I bet they didn't sleep under their house because they were afraid of their bed I bet they didn't hide in the woods because they couldn't go home I bet they never mutilated a doll because being a "girl" wearing a "dress" was the worst thing in the world (It's not as bad as it sounds, lol... I was given a Minnie Mouse when I was five or six and I was so horrified I took off its dress and cut off its eyelashes... I trusted no-one and stoicism and staunchness were all I had left! The damage that "counselling" caused me is incalculable... it drove me further into despair and isolation... and the weirdest thing... I find out now all these years later... they were EVIDENTIAL interviews... evidence gathering... My current counsellor has given me a handout on "Institutional Abuse" which I haven't had the oomph to even read YET!
I'd put it in conquer impairments because... what happened re-traumatised me and is also symptomatic of the trauma I already had... I couldn't speak because I CAN'T... (depersonalisation, dissociation... inability to ask for help... difficulty communicating... extreme distrust of people... arggghhh!
I'd put it in Pick What I NEED because... I need this experience put "right"... it set me off on an incredibly self-destructive path... refusing help, battling on alone, getting more and more confused... I spent years after this wanting to not exist... I wasn't there for myself... and bad things happened...
So, which one? Oh, it has let me select BOTH... let's see what HAPPENS though when I hit post, lol...
When I was thirteen I somehow ended up being sent to "counselling" I'd kept quiet about my childhood trauma but I guess my increasingly isolated, wry, grim manner ended up dobbing me in... Anyway, I was taken to a strange building, dumped in a small room (argh, No! My anxiety shot through the roof as I have claustrophobia), recording equipment was set up with a camera pointing right AT me, I waited there a while staring malevolently at the camera, lol... then a complete stranger walks in, sits down, and proceeds to ask me questions... somehow I survive this interrogation and when the hour (I guess it was an hour I have no idea because I dissociated and don't remember much...) was up they said, "See you next week!"... I was in turmoil... Every week I was taken to that building, spent my hour saying as little as possible and hoping to get out of there as quickly as possible... I have no idea how many weeks it took before the "therapist" gave up and let me be... The only distinct memory I have from that whole experience is them saying, "You are 13 going on 30..." as a sarcastic, dismissive commentary on my attitude to life... I bet they never rifled through rubbish bins for food because they were starving I bet they didn't sleep under their house because they were afraid of their bed I bet they didn't hide in the woods because they couldn't go home I bet they never mutilated a doll because being a "girl" wearing a "dress" was the worst thing in the world (It's not as bad as it sounds, lol... I was given a Minnie Mouse when I was five or six and I was so horrified I took off its dress and cut off its eyelashes... I trusted no-one and stoicism and staunchness were all I had left! The damage that "counselling" caused me is incalculable... it drove me further into despair and isolation... and the weirdest thing... I find out now all these years later... they were EVIDENTIAL interviews... evidence gathering... My current counsellor has given me a handout on "Institutional Abuse" which I haven't had the oomph to even read YET!
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