Just some person (djonma) wrote in dukkhapervades,
Just some person

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I never got around to posting my 'life story' as I guess it is.
This is because the thought of actually setting it all down and relating to it ALL in a Buddhist way just put me off.

But I'm going to try.
It's behind a cut for length and so people don't have to bother reading it if they don't want to.
Format... well I'll put it in (mostly) chronological order, then put some of my reactions, deductions, etc later on as this post is way too long!

I have an older sister and brother, and a younger brother.

I'm a bit unsure about the chronology of the first lot as I don't know how old I was for some of it.

I was first sexually abused when I was very young. I don't remember how old I was.
My Mum's a Baptist and my Dad's a Buddhist, but she made us go to church with her when we were young.
There was this old guy in a wheelchair and my Mum always made me go and say goodbye to him when we were leaving because he was old and it cheered him up.
Yeah it cheered him up; he made me touch him.
I was too young to understand, and yet, I wasn't.
I knew something was wrong, but not exactly what it was.
He gave me sweets to be quiet.
I don't remember if he touched me, but I don't know if that's because he didn't, or if I'm blocking it, or if the memory is just too long ago.

My Dad had his first heart attack when I was 3.
It's my first clear memory; him going into the ambulance.
I've since found out that I told someone at nursery about when he was dying.
My parents never talked about death before that with me, I was too young.
I just knew instinctively what death was.
He didn't die, but us kids weren't allowed to visit him in hospital as we were too young.
My Mum also told me that I completely regressed after this; I was really advanced for my age, and suddenly I was back to wetting the bed, barely talking, etc.

My Sister made me play the 'touch me' game. I don't know how old I was. Between 3-7, cos we moved house when I was 7 and I think it was after my Dad's heart attack.
I only remember one occasion of this, but again, I may be blocking, I don't know.

I was a real trouble child. I was advanced way beyond my years, reading Shakespeare at 6, but I played up a lot.
I stole, I hoarded, I don't even know why.
I hated my Mum and she hated me.

I planned out ways of poisoning her when I was about 6-7 years old. Again, I knew how to do things that I'd never been taught, never been told about, really shouldn't have known about.

I think this was the time that I got it fixed in my head that my Dad was ill because of my Mum.
And it wasn't entirely untrue.
My Mum is, unfortunately, very selfish.
She would get my Dad to go to the shop for her for a bar of chocolate or something minor like that that she could easily walk to the shop for herself. It would cause him a lot of pain to do it.

I first started getting serious pain in muscles and joints when I was about 6. I'm not sure I can remember any before then anyway.

I took refuge when I was about 13.
It really did help for a while.

I was bullied severely in school, because I'd mentioned my Dad was a Buddhist. It drove me mad because people were having a go at my Dad. I really love my Dad, and anything threatening him makes me really mad/upset.
I started skipping school and got into a lot of trouble.

My parents took me to see a Child Psychiatrist who diagnosed me with depression. My Dad had bad depression, so it was easy to see where it came from. My Grandma (on my Mum's side) also had major mental health problems.

The psychiatrist took me into a room on my own and said that he wanted me to tell him everything about just about everything.
He told me that what I said was between him and me and that he wouldn't tell my parents.
I didn't tell him about the abuse when I was young, I don't think I even remembered it at that point.
I told him a lot.
We then joined up with my parents where he proceded to tell them every thing I had said.
Complete breaking of trust.
I refused to go back to see him.
Fortunately I had broken my arm at a school weekend trip so going to the hospital wasn't explained further to school and friends. They thought it was because of my arm.

I was also referred to a Rheumatologist. They thought I had rheumatoid arthritis. They did tons of tests and realised I didn't.

For the next few years I went through school. People stopped bullying me because I didn't rise to it. I just got on with everything. The advantage of being a Buddhist I guess.
I ended up being the person everyone copied from in science.
In physics I'd finish my work for the lesson in about 5-10 minutes and sit chatting with the teacher about Hawking Radiation and post-grad theoretical astrophysics.
That was the first time I really enjoyed school.
My pains got worse; I had tons of x-rays, blood tests and scans, and they couldn't work anything out.
My Dad also spent every October - November just about in hospital. His heart was a mess and he nearly died every year. The doctors told us every time that there was little chance.

My big Brother tried to kill himself in the middle of my Mock GCSEs.
It was a minor miracle that he survived.
Just by chance, someone couldn't sleep, so took their dog for a walk and found him.
My parents went to stay with him for a couple of days. I was made to stay at my great Aunt's.
My great Aunt and uncle are nice, but... old... and didn't understand that I really just wanted to be on my own. I idolised my brother at the time.

My Mum had a major breakdown not long after this.
She's been diagnosed with BiPolar and we actually became a lot closer. She finally knew what it was like to be depressed.

When I got to my GCSEs 6 months later, I had a major kidney infection and I was really ill.
I still came 4th in the whole country at Science.
I didn't revise or anything, it was all too easy.

I'd started going out with a guy when I was 15, close to my Exams.
At first, he admitted he had a drink problem and said he was trying to get off the drink.
Being young and a Buddhist I thought I could help him.
He was fairly nice for a couple of weeks.
Then he admitted he was selling the medicines given to him for stopping alcoholism, and using the money to buy beer.
He became very violent and I spent months (I don't know exactly how long, lots of blocked memories) being seriously abused and frequently raped.

I didn't tell anyone, I couldn't.
In his being nice phase at the beginning, I'd told him my Dad had permanent heart failure. He told me that if I told anyone or broke up with him, he knew exactly how to give my Dad enough of a shock to cause a heart attack.
I didn't dare leave him.

Eventually I managed to tell him it was over on the phone.
He came round and tried to break the front door down.
He told the police he was just trying to get his stuff, I had a video of his.
I have absolutely no doubt that had he got in, he'd have tried to kill me.
I still didn't tell anyone.

My Dad ended up in hospital again, very seriously ill. The doctors said he had no chance.
I spent so much time there, and in deep depression because of that, and the abuse, that I had to drop out of my A-Levels because I was failing.

I went to work.
A couple of years later my Dad had a major lung collapse and spent 3 months in hospital until they finally did major surgery.

I was a real mess.
I was out every friday clubbing, meeting random guys and sleeping with them.
Sex meant absolutely nothing to me after the abuse.
My body meant nothing to me.
I meant nothing to myself.

Finally I realised I liked a guy who was a friend. At first it was just lust; he is very cute.
We got together, and although we did 'stuff' we didn't have sex.
This really frustrated me at first, being the mess I was, but then I realised I loved him and it didn't matter.
We're still together 4 1/2 years later, and he really does look after me.

A couple of years ago, the day before he was due to have a bypass, my Dad had another heart attack.
He spent a couple weeks in hospital, then was sent home to recouperate.
My Mum took him out for a valentines meal, he just sat in the car, then in the restaurant, nothing strenuous.
They got home and he dozed off in his chair in front of the tv and I was on the computer upstairs for a bit. [I was up at my parents as the original plan had been for me to look after him after his bypass whilst my Mum worked.]
Next thing I know he's moaning.
Another heart attack.
So he spends ages in ICU and hospital again til they push forwards the delayed bypass and do a triple.
It worked wonders, fortunately.

A couple of years ago I started having flashbacks of the abuse I suffered when I was 16.
It got really bad and I nearly had a breakdown. Well, maybe I did, but I didn't see a doctor about it, so no official word on that.
I told my boyfriend about the abuse and he's been really supportive.
I still have a lot of problems as a result of it, and my depression is worse than ever, but here I am.
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