Letter to my brother (*May Trigger*)
nickeaster78
New Registrant
99.1
Written and mailed to my brother in January 2003
Immediately after, I broke my silence and told my family, friends, etc. Shortly after the symptoms of PTSD started to fade.
Hey,
Guess what. I know everything. I remember what you did to me. I remember how you abused me, used me, and manipulated me to get your way. I remember the nights that I would be sleeping or just peacefully playing in my room and you would come and get me. I remember the threats, the insults, the hatred you forced down my throat every day. I know that you know too. I know that's why you're so afraid that I will cut off communications with you--because I have every right to. It's funny, my friends can talk to their families and say "hey remember when you were learning to ride your bike and you fell off...bla bla bla" My conversation would be more like: "hey, remember when you molested me and ruined my life? No? Well, I do" How about "hey remember when you held me over the deck outside and threatened to drop me off if I ever told? I do." Oh and don't forget, "remember how you used to tell me that you would hire someone to kill me and they would sit outside of my window in the tree in our backyard waiting for me? I do." How about this one, "remember when you made me constantly promise that I wouldn't tell the things that you were doing so that you wouldn't get in trouble? Remember how you made me say them so much that they're engraved in my brain so much that I'm still afraid to talk about it? I do." Some family reunion that would make eh?
The sad part is that you don't even know how much you've screwed up my life. You just sit there with your little wife in your little house and go to your little job never giving it a minute's thought. Shall we recap the damage? From age five to age twelve, I had classic PTSD and Incest Syndrome symptoms. I was unliked by my friends, untrusting of my family, and basically alone. Five years old and alone already. Fortunately I would have ample time (e.g. my adolescence and early adulthood) to get used to it. I still feel alone, as no one can really understand how much this has screwed my life up. I can't trust my friends. I can't trust period. Thanks to the secret that I've been forced to keep for most of my life, I can't let my guard down long enough to get close to anyone. That's a most enjoyable experience--living life as if no one on this planet really knows who the hell you are. I can't even sit here and type this without moving my legs and stuff. That's another wonderful thing you've bestowed on me: It's called PTSD. That's posttraumatic stress disorder. See the name comes from everything that you did to me and my family during childhood. That's called a traumatic event. It's traumatic being molested over and over again by your brother. It's also traumatic to watch your brother scream at your parents, push your mother down the stairs, yell at you and your friends, and constantly look for ways to get in trouble. It's traumatic to have your brother invite 10 or 12 of his friends over and tell them they use you for whatever they want. So imagine my surprise when one day before I graduated I realized that maybe I wasn't at fault for the fact that I didn't have many (close to any) friends . Maybe I wasn't at fault that I got scared to death every time something started to get out of my control. Maybe it wasn't my fault that I exhibited classic symptoms of someone who had been severely abused as a kid. That's something that I'm still coming to terms with. I go back and forth of deciding whether or not this is my fault. I usually end up taking the blame though. Maybe I'm just a bad person. That's probably what you want me to believe eh? Well, guess what! You're wrong! I am not to blame for this. I couldn't have stopped you. Hell, my parents couldn't stop you half of the time. You were out of control. I don't know why no one ever got you under control, but you just did what you wanted to.
I should have had a normal childhood. I should have memories of friends, picnics, swimming trips, and birthday parties. Instead I have memories of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. Quite the trade-off I guess. I don't know what made you do it, but I don't really care any more. You took your crap out on me. You single-handedly ruined my life. Now I have all kinds of wonderful problems because of this. I can't even swim or shower without being reminded of what you did to me. I can barely take my clothes off without being reminded. I can be walking down the street and see something and suddenly be reminded. If ruining my life was part of your plan, you succeeded. Now I have intrusions--part of PTSD. I can be fine and a situation or person or thing can suddenly throw me back into the past. Hell, last night I sat there on my bed in cried and felt like I was being abused again. I have nightmares about you, my family, and the people who ignored me. I wake up scared and afraid of what is going on in my mind. So you see, it's not something that I can just forget or get over. It's always going to be there, waiting in the forefront of my mind. It will always be lurking around when I least expect it. It shows up in the strangest of places at the worst of times. Most of my friends think I'm a freak by now. I'm fortunate enough to have handful of people who can relate to my experiences. At least they don't immediately condemn me. The others don't even care. They just think I'm some fruitcake who doesn't even know that there's something different about him. My life is in shambles now. I barely make it through my coursework. My professors think I'm nuts because I am a perfectionist about my grades, my friends would probably rather have me committed than put up with me, and my future is slowly swirling down the toilet. I can't even sit here and type this while someone knocks on a door down the hall. I startle so easy that I get scared at the littlest of noises. If I'm coming up the stairs and someone else is coming down, I jump. If someone walks up and pats me on the back, I jump. If someone says hello before I know they're there, I jump. My heart is on constant alert. I have wonderful little things called panic attacks where I start to hypervenhilate and feel like I'm dying or something.
I just wanted to give you an overdue hello to let you know that you are not going to ruin the rest of my life, and that from this point on, I am not going to allow you to ruin my relationships, friendships, or career. Whatever power you had over me and my life, I'm taking back, right now, today. I don't want to talk to you or see you again for the rest of my life.
Written and mailed to my brother in January 2003
Immediately after, I broke my silence and told my family, friends, etc. Shortly after the symptoms of PTSD started to fade.
Hey,
Guess what. I know everything. I remember what you did to me. I remember how you abused me, used me, and manipulated me to get your way. I remember the nights that I would be sleeping or just peacefully playing in my room and you would come and get me. I remember the threats, the insults, the hatred you forced down my throat every day. I know that you know too. I know that's why you're so afraid that I will cut off communications with you--because I have every right to. It's funny, my friends can talk to their families and say "hey remember when you were learning to ride your bike and you fell off...bla bla bla" My conversation would be more like: "hey, remember when you molested me and ruined my life? No? Well, I do" How about "hey remember when you held me over the deck outside and threatened to drop me off if I ever told? I do." Oh and don't forget, "remember how you used to tell me that you would hire someone to kill me and they would sit outside of my window in the tree in our backyard waiting for me? I do." How about this one, "remember when you made me constantly promise that I wouldn't tell the things that you were doing so that you wouldn't get in trouble? Remember how you made me say them so much that they're engraved in my brain so much that I'm still afraid to talk about it? I do." Some family reunion that would make eh?
The sad part is that you don't even know how much you've screwed up my life. You just sit there with your little wife in your little house and go to your little job never giving it a minute's thought. Shall we recap the damage? From age five to age twelve, I had classic PTSD and Incest Syndrome symptoms. I was unliked by my friends, untrusting of my family, and basically alone. Five years old and alone already. Fortunately I would have ample time (e.g. my adolescence and early adulthood) to get used to it. I still feel alone, as no one can really understand how much this has screwed my life up. I can't trust my friends. I can't trust period. Thanks to the secret that I've been forced to keep for most of my life, I can't let my guard down long enough to get close to anyone. That's a most enjoyable experience--living life as if no one on this planet really knows who the hell you are. I can't even sit here and type this without moving my legs and stuff. That's another wonderful thing you've bestowed on me: It's called PTSD. That's posttraumatic stress disorder. See the name comes from everything that you did to me and my family during childhood. That's called a traumatic event. It's traumatic being molested over and over again by your brother. It's also traumatic to watch your brother scream at your parents, push your mother down the stairs, yell at you and your friends, and constantly look for ways to get in trouble. It's traumatic to have your brother invite 10 or 12 of his friends over and tell them they use you for whatever they want. So imagine my surprise when one day before I graduated I realized that maybe I wasn't at fault for the fact that I didn't have many (close to any) friends . Maybe I wasn't at fault that I got scared to death every time something started to get out of my control. Maybe it wasn't my fault that I exhibited classic symptoms of someone who had been severely abused as a kid. That's something that I'm still coming to terms with. I go back and forth of deciding whether or not this is my fault. I usually end up taking the blame though. Maybe I'm just a bad person. That's probably what you want me to believe eh? Well, guess what! You're wrong! I am not to blame for this. I couldn't have stopped you. Hell, my parents couldn't stop you half of the time. You were out of control. I don't know why no one ever got you under control, but you just did what you wanted to.
I should have had a normal childhood. I should have memories of friends, picnics, swimming trips, and birthday parties. Instead I have memories of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. Quite the trade-off I guess. I don't know what made you do it, but I don't really care any more. You took your crap out on me. You single-handedly ruined my life. Now I have all kinds of wonderful problems because of this. I can't even swim or shower without being reminded of what you did to me. I can barely take my clothes off without being reminded. I can be walking down the street and see something and suddenly be reminded. If ruining my life was part of your plan, you succeeded. Now I have intrusions--part of PTSD. I can be fine and a situation or person or thing can suddenly throw me back into the past. Hell, last night I sat there on my bed in cried and felt like I was being abused again. I have nightmares about you, my family, and the people who ignored me. I wake up scared and afraid of what is going on in my mind. So you see, it's not something that I can just forget or get over. It's always going to be there, waiting in the forefront of my mind. It will always be lurking around when I least expect it. It shows up in the strangest of places at the worst of times. Most of my friends think I'm a freak by now. I'm fortunate enough to have handful of people who can relate to my experiences. At least they don't immediately condemn me. The others don't even care. They just think I'm some fruitcake who doesn't even know that there's something different about him. My life is in shambles now. I barely make it through my coursework. My professors think I'm nuts because I am a perfectionist about my grades, my friends would probably rather have me committed than put up with me, and my future is slowly swirling down the toilet. I can't even sit here and type this while someone knocks on a door down the hall. I startle so easy that I get scared at the littlest of noises. If I'm coming up the stairs and someone else is coming down, I jump. If someone walks up and pats me on the back, I jump. If someone says hello before I know they're there, I jump. My heart is on constant alert. I have wonderful little things called panic attacks where I start to hypervenhilate and feel like I'm dying or something.
I just wanted to give you an overdue hello to let you know that you are not going to ruin the rest of my life, and that from this point on, I am not going to allow you to ruin my relationships, friendships, or career. Whatever power you had over me and my life, I'm taking back, right now, today. I don't want to talk to you or see you again for the rest of my life.
