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<blockquote data-quote="susiestar" data-source="post: 396463" data-attributes="member: 1233"><p>Today has been incredibly hard. I got about 2 hrs of sleep and woke up with a nightmare that I have had off and on for years. More a PTSD flashback than a nightmare really, because it happened. The thing is, I don't dream. Not just don't remember them, I don't get much of the kind of sleep that dreams happen in. several sleep studies have shown this. medications only help a little - I get more sleep but not much more of the right kinds of sleep. The rare dreams usually happen around times when mom is more toxic than usual.</p><p> </p><p>I woke up thinking I was drowning. I was in fifth or sixth grade again. At that time my bro was so determined to hurt me that my mother paid a friend's older sister to come over after school every day. My mom's job paid for gfgbro's tuition, her gas and parking, and this babysitter. period. Gfgbro was put into a special school for boys that really needed an advanced curriculum - boys there skipped grades seven and eight. He had to take 2 city busses to get home - and his school was actually across the river in another entire state. He was drinking heavily by that time and was smoking weed and cigarettes, in addition to hating everything about me.</p><p> </p><p>The sitter was late because she had to do something on her way to our house. About 15 minutes late. She was the 2nd oldest in a family of 5 kids, so she was no stranger to sibling fights and violence. What happened this day scared her so bad she wouldn't come back unless gfgbro was not home.</p><p> </p><p>I don't know what we were fighting about. Most likely me finding his booze (beer and whiskey or vodka were his usual choices) and saying something about it, or maybe I had just found his porno stash (five or six stacks of porn magazines that were EACH over 2 feet tall, stored in the playhouse that our next door neighbors built for their son but he had stopped using completely until the boys found the stash. Really hard core stuff, esp for the late 70's-early 80's. This was NOT just a few issues of playboy or penthouse, not by a long shot. he was using his lunch money and money he stole from me to get wino's to buy this stuff for him.) </p><p> </p><p>The fight could have been over anything. This time he was really messed up on something and held me down in the tub, face up, under the spout where the water comes out to fill the tub. Hot water, of course.</p><p> </p><p>anyway, the sitter came in and found this - I was conscious but had pretty much figured I was dead. He had my arms and legs pinned so I couldn't fight. </p><p> </p><p>Bad as that is, when my mom got home it got a LOT worse. She wasn't a big yeller, usually got quiet and vicious. This time she was loud and vicious about how it was MY fault and I was ruining everything and I had better figure out a way to become a "good" daughter and sister so that these things would stop happening. At NO time did she EVER ask if I was okay. I had a big bruise on my forehead and was coughing up water well into the night.</p><p> </p><p>I don't know if my dad ever even knew what had happened, other than that I was grounded and so was gfgbro until we could "get along" and until I "stopped provoking him" because "he would NEVER do anything to hurt me except my 'lies' scared him".</p><p> </p><p>I did put a call in to my therapist. She doesn't have an opening until mid January. </p><p> </p><p>My mom couldn't figure out why my friends didn't come over. I didn't have many because I was a bookworm with immature social skills, but even the friend who's sister babysat us was NEVER allowed to come over again unless they were positive that myparents were home and gfgbro wasn't. I went to their houses instead. </p><p> </p><p>I worked through this in college, but it is back big as life again. Almost worse because now I know there are better ways to be a family and I know this is NOT healthy parenting.</p><p> </p><p>And my mother was the one who INSISTED that there was NOTHING wrong with Wiz - right up until he admitted what he had done to Jessie. Even that - was my fault for being too dramatic and dreaming up his problems for attention. </p><p> </p><p>I am just praying to get through the holidays until our obligatory visit is over. At that time we will likely go back to not speaking for weeks at a time. </p><p> </p><p>And she wonders why I do not call. Hmmm let me think on that. thanks for letting me vent. husband can't handle hearing about this much. He will listen, but he gets so angry on my behalf, so upset that any child could be treated that way, that he ends up super stressed out. I hope I can sleep some tonight.</p><p> </p><p>On a positive note, the kids made two kinds of fudge tonight - chocolate and then peanut butter with a bit of chocolate swirled on top! Both very easy recipes, thank heavens!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="susiestar, post: 396463, member: 1233"] Today has been incredibly hard. I got about 2 hrs of sleep and woke up with a nightmare that I have had off and on for years. More a PTSD flashback than a nightmare really, because it happened. The thing is, I don't dream. Not just don't remember them, I don't get much of the kind of sleep that dreams happen in. several sleep studies have shown this. medications only help a little - I get more sleep but not much more of the right kinds of sleep. The rare dreams usually happen around times when mom is more toxic than usual. I woke up thinking I was drowning. I was in fifth or sixth grade again. At that time my bro was so determined to hurt me that my mother paid a friend's older sister to come over after school every day. My mom's job paid for gfgbro's tuition, her gas and parking, and this babysitter. period. Gfgbro was put into a special school for boys that really needed an advanced curriculum - boys there skipped grades seven and eight. He had to take 2 city busses to get home - and his school was actually across the river in another entire state. He was drinking heavily by that time and was smoking weed and cigarettes, in addition to hating everything about me. The sitter was late because she had to do something on her way to our house. About 15 minutes late. She was the 2nd oldest in a family of 5 kids, so she was no stranger to sibling fights and violence. What happened this day scared her so bad she wouldn't come back unless gfgbro was not home. I don't know what we were fighting about. Most likely me finding his booze (beer and whiskey or vodka were his usual choices) and saying something about it, or maybe I had just found his porno stash (five or six stacks of porn magazines that were EACH over 2 feet tall, stored in the playhouse that our next door neighbors built for their son but he had stopped using completely until the boys found the stash. Really hard core stuff, esp for the late 70's-early 80's. This was NOT just a few issues of playboy or penthouse, not by a long shot. he was using his lunch money and money he stole from me to get wino's to buy this stuff for him.) The fight could have been over anything. This time he was really messed up on something and held me down in the tub, face up, under the spout where the water comes out to fill the tub. Hot water, of course. anyway, the sitter came in and found this - I was conscious but had pretty much figured I was dead. He had my arms and legs pinned so I couldn't fight. Bad as that is, when my mom got home it got a LOT worse. She wasn't a big yeller, usually got quiet and vicious. This time she was loud and vicious about how it was MY fault and I was ruining everything and I had better figure out a way to become a "good" daughter and sister so that these things would stop happening. At NO time did she EVER ask if I was okay. I had a big bruise on my forehead and was coughing up water well into the night. I don't know if my dad ever even knew what had happened, other than that I was grounded and so was gfgbro until we could "get along" and until I "stopped provoking him" because "he would NEVER do anything to hurt me except my 'lies' scared him". I did put a call in to my therapist. She doesn't have an opening until mid January. My mom couldn't figure out why my friends didn't come over. I didn't have many because I was a bookworm with immature social skills, but even the friend who's sister babysat us was NEVER allowed to come over again unless they were positive that myparents were home and gfgbro wasn't. I went to their houses instead. I worked through this in college, but it is back big as life again. Almost worse because now I know there are better ways to be a family and I know this is NOT healthy parenting. And my mother was the one who INSISTED that there was NOTHING wrong with Wiz - right up until he admitted what he had done to Jessie. Even that - was my fault for being too dramatic and dreaming up his problems for attention. I am just praying to get through the holidays until our obligatory visit is over. At that time we will likely go back to not speaking for weeks at a time. And she wonders why I do not call. Hmmm let me think on that. thanks for letting me vent. husband can't handle hearing about this much. He will listen, but he gets so angry on my behalf, so upset that any child could be treated that way, that he ends up super stressed out. I hope I can sleep some tonight. On a positive note, the kids made two kinds of fudge tonight - chocolate and then peanut butter with a bit of chocolate swirled on top! Both very easy recipes, thank heavens! [/QUOTE]
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