Hating on myself

Trigger warning: abuse, self harm, and suicide mention.

The other night, in a moment of pure stupidity that is only caused by something I’ll get into later in this post, I decided to look up my abuser on Facebook. 
My mother had told me he had a new one, and I won’t lie I’m curious to see how far I can push myself with the ‘I don’t hate you, I just don’t care’ which in it’s own way is a lie. I try not to hate for my own personal reasons, but deep down, if I hate anyone it’s him and his wife. So I looked. 

As I scrolled I got more and more disgusted by what he posted, but it was a kind of emotionally detached disgusted. Like, it would be funny if I didn’t have the connection. 
Then I stumbled upon something that I know he knew I would see. A post on my birthday, that was basically him emotionally abusing me by working on the old connection we had. The old ‘I’m your father, I’ll always love you’ b.s. 
I didn’t believe if for a second, but it sure did make me mad. Not like a blinding rage mad, but just so dumbfounded with everything. I got very upset, ran outside and quickly grabbed two fistfuls of snow. 

The pure icy cold brought me back down to reality, enough so that I could walk inside, collect my phone, and walk to my room. I was fine, my heart was racing, and my hands were cold. My eyelashes were frozen with wet tears and I was shaking, but I was fine.

My mother came in a moment later, I was vaguely mad at her for coming outside then quickly abandoning me for the house- she later told me she wanted to see what he wrote. We sat on the floor, and I vented. 

I was amazed by the pure stupidity of it all. He actually thinks we still have some sort of connection. Some cosmic love that will reunite us when I finally see the evils of my mother. 

All I can think is about when we were 16, and we did go back to live with him. It was hellish. I got my first self harm scar that is still visible. I stayed there being sexually abused by his wife’s daughter because of some reason I can’t even think to know.  I lost everything. I didn’t go back to school when I finally came home. I became scared and withdrawn. I tried to commit suicide multiple times in the coming years.

My life turned to one giant nightmare for years, and is only now settling down again. Though, I will say my life wasn’t very good before this. From ages 12-14 when I didn’t see him were okay, but the rest was an abuse filled mess. 

And he actually thinks we still have a connection. He must think I didn’t read the police transcripts for the rape case I had against him. The one where he calls me a ‘crazy stupid lying c**t’. 

After I venting to my mom, something (aka a protector) told me to try what my therapist calls a ‘butterfly hug’, where you cross your arms against your chest and pat your shoulders one at a time. It’s an EMDR thing that surprisingly worked really well. 

I went back to feeling a little more worked up than normal, but I was otherwise okay. 

This whole incident got me thinking about why I do this. Why I look up my abusers, or at triggering things. Why I’m always testing myself to see how far I can go before I push myself over the edge. 

Joji, the protector that deals with Adam and I’s b.s thinks it has something to do with feeling emotions. Being emotionally numb to nearly everything is draining. When it moves into the body, that’s when we self harm. But when it’s just all too much, when there’s no ticking in our heart and we feel broken we push ourselves to feel anything. 

It’s kind of sick. It’s something I definitely need to talk over with my therapist. Why do I feel the need to push myself over the edge? I don’t know. 



One thought on “Hating on myself

  1. Roo, thank you for being brave to write this out and post it. I’m sorry for the abuse and I’m sorry you go through confusion and pain. That pretending the relationship is all good and wonderful by the abusers hurts so much for those of us who know the truth. It makes me feel sick, dizzy, angry, confused. So many things. I used to cut to make the chaos in my head stop. And to feel something. And for punishment. There were many reasons. I’m sorry you go through that too. Ice is good. Hugging is good. I used to tear up cardboard boxes or kick them apart to get some anger out. I like that you can vent with your mom. Supportive people are the best. Lawrence


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