I grew up in a verbally and physically abusive household, which probably explains the childhood PTSD. Most of this abuse came from my mother, who for most of my life has been a single parent.
From what I remember of my childhood; there were holes punched in walls and windshields, phones thrown through windows, screaming, punching, spanking, slapping, concussions, the time my mom cut open my stepdads arm, and the time my mother broke a wooden spoon on my ass.
These are the key memories, unfortunately I don’t remember much else from my childhood. Except the degrading yelling.
So I moved out at 15, maybe 16. At times I lived alone, often I had roommates, and occasionally I was homeless. This is how I lived until I was 21. At which point I moved to Wisconsin, but that’s another story.
At age 23 I moved back. With nowhere to go I moved in with my mother and began seeing a psychiatrist for the first time. He prescribed the first of what would later be a long list of meds.
I turn 27 next week. Not much has changed since I was 23, with the exception of a suicide attempt last year. Still with mom, still on meds (usually), and she is still verbally abusive.
What was the point of this boring story? Your guess is as good as mine. 🙂
Remember to smile,