by Band Back Together | Nov 20, 2015 | Abuse, Adoption, Baby Loss, Bipolar Disorder, Divorce, Suicide |
Target.
1:30 on a Tuesday.
Buying my husband socks.
This is what I was doing when my mom called me to tell me that my older brother had taken his life.
I broke down crying in the middle of the underwear section as onlookers watched. We bought our items and drove to my sister’s workplace to tell her what had happened.
My brother was bipolar. He was in the middle of a divorce. His six month old son had died a year ago. Our father had been abusive. He didn’t like his job. He was adopted. He had been in jail several times. He had attempted to take his life several times before. All of these are risk factors, we just never thought he’d actually do it.
That day was the most painful day in my entire life. Even now as I write this, I’m welling up with tears. He was only 21 years old. He was the most brilliant person I know. He was always inventing things and had a unique way of looking at things. He could be a jerk sometimes. I mean, he was my older brother. We yelled at each other. I feel terrible saying this, but I hate it when people sugar-coat the lives of the deceased.
I had gotten married ten days before his death. He didn’t make it to my wedding because he had to appear in court. We had just gotten back from our honeymoon and were going to go spend our gift cards, thus the sock buying. I hadn’t spent much time with my brother leading up to the wedding even though he was living in the same house as me because I was so busy and I regret that. But I can’t go back and change what has been done.
by Band Back Together | Nov 13, 2015 | A Letter I Can't Send, Blended Families, Coping With Divorce, Divorce, Emotional Abuse, Estrangement, Family, Loss, Psychological Manipulation |
Dad-
I don’t think that I can ever forgive you. I want to so badly, but I don’t think that I can. We’ve come through so much together. You didn’t have to be there for me; you didn’t have to be my father. You didn’t have to love me. You chose to. You chose me. You chose me for a long time. I hate that you let things change. I hate that you were so blind to what was happening around you. I hate the words that you said to me.
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
I want my dad back. I want the man who loved me despite my illnesses, despite what my birth certificate said, despite all the shit I put you through.
I hate you for choosing a woman over your daughter time and time again. I hate you for it, but after many years, I forgave you.
I forgave you for it, but I stopped putting up with it. I will never forgive you for the actions that you took once I put my foot down. I hate you for saying those horrible things about me. I hate you for saying them about my mother. I hate you for not realizing that both of us were, and are, suffering from mental illnesses. I hate that you look away. I hate you for placing all of the blame on me. You say that your wife has done nothing wrong? You clearly are also suffering from some sort of mental illness.
You are the most passive man I’ve ever known. That used to be something that I loved about you. But it seemed so easy for you to tell me that you were done with me. That you couldn’t have a relationship with me. That you were once and for all choosing your wife over you daughter.
Do you feel anything at all?
Did this choice hurt you like it hurt me?
I’ve listed a million things that I hate about you, but I could just as easily list a million that I love. Those things will never change. I will also love the man that you were, just as you will love the girl that I was. But we will never have the relationship we once had. No matter what happens, I can never forget the words. They are scars on my soul. I think about them everyday.
Your words were horrible. They were not words that would ever come from the man I knew. I’ve done some digging, some looking around and I’ve learned a lot about you. I’m amazed at the things you’ve said and done. I guess you were just sheltering me. Now I know the real you. I don’t like that person. You said that if I didn’t change, you couldn’t have a relationship with me. I’m saying the same to you. Just know that even if you do, I will never trust you again. I can’t.
Of all the people in my life, I never expected to lose you. It is a loss that I will never recover from.
by Band Back Together | Nov 10, 2015 | Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Family, Miscarriage, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment |
My brother-in-law (I’ll call him Tom) has always been flirty with me, but not in a gross way – just normal guy stuff. I knew him before he knew my sister (who I’ll call Heather), I’m 37 and he’s about 5 years older, she is 2 years younger than me.
I own a multi-family home with Heather, I live in my apartment and she rents out her apartment because she and Tom and their son have a single family house about a half mile away.
I recently moved back to this house because I got out of a tumultuous relationship. I had also just had a miscarriage (with the ex’s baby, so nature made the right decision for me) literally about 4 days before moving.
I was happy to be home with my son. I felt safe. I felt calm. I felt like I could heal there.
One day about a week after I had moved, Tom texted me to tell me he was going to be at the house to cut the lawn and to clean out the basement a bit. When I got home with my son, Tom was there and had definitely been drinking. He’s not a big drinker so it was a little strange that it was a weekday afternoon when he started on the beers. But I attributed it to a rough day and he wanted to relax.
At the time, I was still smoking, and I was outside on the porch having one and he came up to me from behind and pushed himself against me. I could feel it. I moved away, laughing nervously and said “OMG stop!!!” Like I said, he had always flirted and he’s very sarcastic and jokes a lot. He came up to me again and talked into my ear about how bad he wanted me and just wanted me to let him touch my butt. I again said “no” and moved away, the ‘whispery’ type voice in my ear was creeping me out.
My son was inside the house playing in his room, so when I went in shortly after that, Tom came in to say hi to his nephew. I was in the kitchen when Tom grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bathroom. I said “What are you doing? Stop”. He closed the door behind us. He continued with that creepy voice, reached up under my dress, yanked my underwear down and put his hand on me, rubbing it around. I was in shock. I said “Stop it! No, this isn’t right, come on!”
At that moment I felt like I was outside of my body. My brain was going “Is this really happening”? and simultaneously thinking “I’m probably still bleeding from the miscarriage, is he going to hurt me?” The only thing I remember next is him pushing my head down towards the sink and saying “Come ON!”, he took my hand and made me touch him. I held it for a few seconds in fear but then let go. I was mortified. This is my SISTER’S husband. I said no, I said stop, I did NOT ask for this.
Because I had been in a physically abusive relationship before, I automatically start to panic when the tone of voice changes, and his “Come ON!” scared me. Would I have been able to physically push him away from me? Probably. Why didn’t I? I HAVE NO IDEA and it is killing me. I remember thinking “Oh my god, he’s going to rape me!” WHY didn’t I fight back? I’ve never physically hurt anyone nor have I ever had to fight anyone off me.
I also knew my 5 year old son was in the next room. I didn’t want to scare him. I heard him yell to me “Mama! Where are you?” I took advantage of this moment, knowing that Tom wouldn’t want my son to know he was in the bathroom with me – and that my son could easily open the bathroom door (it doesn’t lock). I said “I’m in the bathroom, just peeing – I’ll be out in a second!”
I was able to get Tom’s hand out from my underwear, but he held me against the sink until he finished on my back. I cleaned myself off and got out of the bathroom. Tom kept saying “obviously we can’t tell anyone about this” and it’s as if he thought the only “wrongdoing” was that he cheated on his wife with her sister.
He went into the basement and I locked my door.
I got texts a few days later asking how I was and he asked if I liked it. I wrote back telling him that I will NOT talk about this anymore. I told him I felt extremely violated and ashamed, and that I felt like he took advantage of my vulnerability from my breakup, and from the miscarriage.
He still didn’t seem to understand. He thinks “we” just had a little affair. I think he sexually assaulted me. I have not told my sister. I am struggling with this. I want her to know because I would want to know of my husband of 9 years did this. But I also don’t want to be the cause of her family breaking apart and uprooting EVERYTHING. I also believe that Tom will vehemently deny this, or at least deny it was forced.
I’m terrified of the effect this would have on Heather, her son, my entire family, and everyone that knows us. I’m terrified that Tom would be enraged with me. I’m terrified that people would blame me for not fighting back harder. I said no, stop, no, stop – over and over. I never once invited this. I froze in the moment and just let him do his thing as I closed my eyes to keep the tears from coming out. I didn’t push him away physically. Why? WHY didn’t I fight back????
I plan to see a therapist about this, just haven’t made the call yet. This happened in July. It’s the end of September. I struggle with guilt and “why didn’t I fight back?” every single day.
I struggle with whether or not to tell my sister.
This has caused me to avoid family gatherings. My parents do a lot with Heather and Tom. (Vacations, day trips, etc.) I don’t have as much in common so it’s not unusual that I’m not with them. But it’s going to be harder around the holidays. I have a hard time even looking Heather in the eyes, never mind being around Tom. The guilt is horrible. Why do I feel guilty when I did nothing wrong? Could I have physically fought him off? I don’t know. But I didn’t try – and that’s why I feel so guilty.
I don’t know how I’m going to move past this.
by Band Back Together | Nov 5, 2015 | Abandonment, Addiction, Alcohol Addiction, Borderline Personality Disorder, Compulsive Shopping, Guilt, Shame, Substance Abuse |
I’m not a “real” addict, though. I’m just irresponsible, immature, and emotionally unstable and that’s why I spent my entire inheritance on makeup, perfume, clothing, nail polish, and food.
No, that’s not true.
I am a real addict.
Just like the alcoholic, the substance abuser, the gambler… I’m a shopper. I am a compulsive shopper. Shopping is my drug of choice.
And just like every other addict, my addiction causes me fear, guilt, and shame. It’s alienated me from friends, family, and even other addicts with whom I worked to get better. It didn’t fill up the hole inside of me like I thought it would.
As a diagnosed borderline personality disorder patient, who has parents who essentially abandoned me as a child (and yes, it really is possible to abandon someone and their needs and still live in the same house), I started accumulating things as soon as I had money of my own.
My father, who was – and still is – extremely successful and well-off, never taught me how to work with money and live companionably with it. Instead, it was something to be feared, revered, untouchable.
I can’t control my addiction, and although I know that this shopping addiction is there, I don’t know how to stop it.
My name is Sam, and I’m an addict.
by Band Back Together | Oct 29, 2015 | Anxiety, Depression, Infertility, Miscarriage |
We waited for him.
We prayed, we hoped, I cried. Miscarriages.
We spent money that we didn’t have and I went for daily ultrasound, blood work, tests. Infertility. Devastated and alone.
I blamed myself because I could have been a better person and been a better wife and a better friend.
We tried three months of infertility treatment which included shots, pills, and having people know your private parts better than you do.
Epic failure.
Depression.
A miracle! They call it “Spontaneous Pregnancy” – something that was not supposed to happen. Overwhelmed with joy and gratitude to God.
Anxiety
by Band Back Together | Oct 26, 2015 | Adult Children of Narcissistic Parents, Bipolar Disorder, Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Grief, Loss, Murder, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder |
I had a younger aunt that was like a sister to me.
My sophomore year in college, I took her on spring break with me. When I moved out of state, and I would come home to visit, I didn’t stay at my parents, I would stay at her house. We were that close.
Then it all was gone. I got a call from my mother at 1AM one morning and my world stopped.
My aunt had been brutally tortured, murdered.
She was gone.
Murder brings out intense emotional reactions.
The emotional pain and anguish of murder seem unbearable. I feel an overwhelming sense of loss and deep, deep sorrow. I constantly experience thoughts about the circumstances of her death.
I relieve what I think happened and I see her being tortured and killed. I imagine the pleas for her life she was making.
Grieving for a murder victim is unlike any other grief. The murder of a loved one results in the survivors grieving not only the death, but how the person died.
I have intrusive visualizations of the murder and I see her suffering. I have flashbacks of the moment when I was notified of her death. I have flashbacks of the last time I saw her alive.
I dream of her knocking at my door and, when I open it, I see her, and she tells me, “It was a mistake! It wasn’t me.”
I never got to see her dead body, so I think part of me has denial about her gruesome death.
Her life was cut short through an act of sick cruelty. The disregard for human life adds overwhelming feelings of anger, distrust, injustice, and helplessness to the normal sense of loss and sorrow. Sometimes, I cry like I am never going to stop.
I don’t think a person can rebound from this.
I have suffered lots of childhood abuse, both childhood sexual abuse and childhood emotional abuse. I suffer from bipolar disorder and PTSD. My mother has narcissistic personality disorder.
I’ve got my hands full, but dealing with a murder is a baffling head game.
I don’t think I will ever come to terms with it.
