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Hello folks.

Here again to give you a big read! Hehe its just a venting process before I can actually say all this to a psychiatrist or a therapist (i dont even know who i need).
In my last post I covered the history of my first trauma which occured to me when I was around 8 and the general neglection I faced due to unavoidable circumstances from my parents.

Anyway later on, I was pretty scared about what happened to me and for several yrs I thought I would become pregnant as they showed on tv that when you hug someone you get a baby bump next day hence the silly me cried in the corner whenever I could thinking what the fuck is life. In the process I was molested again by a (male) cousin on one or two occasions and once by another (female) cousin and again I was clueless of what was happening but I never said it because i was a coward the first time also. All of this happened before I turned 11 (i guess i really dont remember the timeline and i spent a lot of time suppressing my memories).

I was pretty active in school and I kept myself busy. I was a semi popular kid who was happy go lucky and bubbly but privately I spent being anxious about the past and I started to develop episodes in which i would suddenly just feel like i cant breathe for a short period of time but get normal eventually…i never acknowledged it as anything but I used to call the feeling like it felt like I am about to die.

All this while my parents were just on their own and when I turned 10 my grandmother started living with us as she was diagnosed with leukemia. She survived but gave cancer to all of us metaphorically. Meaning just causing hassle between all relationships and bitching and everything since she wanted my dad to be by her side all the time. So my relationship with my dad became totally awful apart from the general neglect also.

Their used to be fights every now and then (not much has changed now) and the environment was pretty hostile. I lost my shit when I was in 11th when I felt so alone as I had no one who backed my up (my mother wasnt bad to be but she never took my side also) and I felt unheard and I ended up slicing my entire upper arm with a blade in 34 places until I made sure there was no space. It was winter and I didnt even apply anything on the wounds and i let those cuts bleed and I just covered it with a jacket which I wore while i slept also and guess what! Nobody ever knew my arm was like that and it healed on its own. That was silly i know but I feel like doing it all over again. I feel no effect of physical pain as the mental ones are worse.

There is a bit more but I will carry on later… I hate myself 😬

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