My background isn’t all that bad. My dad’s a doctor; I live in a house with my mom, older sister, dad, three cats, dog, and my fish. We aren’t in deep financial trouble. I’m almost fifteen and I go to a good school, get straight A’s in honors classes. I used to play basketball, softball, and soccer, but I gave up recently. I still plan on doing track. I play three instruments: piano, saxophone, and guitar. In the past, I’ve never considered myself to be troubled, emotionally, physically, mentally, okay I am a little crazy, but that’s from my mom.
My mom had breast cancer and is a survivor. She has clinical depression and takes Celexa. She has no job, and is a stay at home mom. She spends her day doing laundry and talking to cats. She’s a packrat, and our basement is filled with junk, and she freaks out if we touch. OCD? Maybe. She’s threatened suicide in the past, and she’s always and threatened and still does threaten to leave, but we know that she doesn’t have enough remaining memory cells to maintain a stable job, other than an artist, which she used to be. She really is crazy, and always thinks that our neighbors are hiding nails in the driveway, and other weird things like that. My dad owns his own office, and gets by. Lately he has been stressed, and has panic attacks if we don’t record his shows on tiVo. He’s a great dad though.
My first memory is that my crib was stuffed with too many stuffed animals so I had to share a bed w/ my sister and my mom would sleep w/ us we’d play a game called "bugs" and we’d give each other back massages, just mom-daughter love, and i remember it wasn’t dirty we kept our clothes on and it was just our back and neck. I remember I’d wipe boogers on my older sister’s dresser and my sister would always fall asleep first. One specific time I walked across the room to get water w/ out tripping and my mom said I had “great night vision”. I don’t know why I remembered that night, but it must be important if I do, right? So is it questionable why I am my mom’s favorite child?
I remember going to baseball games w/ my dad and having to go to the men’s’ restroom because I was too young to go to the women’s’ bathroom by myself. I remember being fascinated by penises, and I knew they had no significance other than peeing.
I remember drawing bathrooms, guys thinking about girls outside the bathroom, and penises. I knew it was bad though because I hid it from mom and dad and anyone else. Keep in mind I was four years old or so. I remember I’d draw and draw and people woul look at my picture and I’d say the penis was a rocket ship and I’d change it so that it was. I can’t remember what they said about me drawing bathrooms, but maybe because I thought the word “poop” was hilarious at age 6 and under. The pictures I grew out of then. And I no longer shared a bed with mom or my sister.
I remember letting water run on me when I took baths and I’d do this daydreaming I was peeing with a dick and do this until I got a tingly feeling. Keep in mind I’m still 5, 6, 7, or 8, and I really didn’t know what sex was besides guys stick the things in girls and egg + sperm = baby. I didn’t know all the complexity of it. I did this for a long time until recently or in the past year or two I found out I had orgasms. That disturbed me but I’d still sometimes do that. I still do it randomly today but I don’t think of gross things, I just want the feeling. Masturbation has health benefits actually like relieving stress which I have. I still have a feeling of disgust with myself afterwards. I do it without water too with a Pokémon stuffed animal I have. I don’t think about anything besides that feeling. Out of curiosity I looked at porn. Yeah I know, gross. It made me disgusted afterwards and disturbed of course but excited, but I thought the dicks looked gross and only the girls were pretty. That kind of confusion is not normal. For some reason I enjoy making myself sick and excited at the same time, like a roller coaster I guess.
At first I thought this whole thing right now was a rocky introduction to puberty and out of control hormones that I wasn’t used to, but I put together pieces of my past. Was I sexually abused? Am I imagining? If I was abused, who did it then? A stranger I don’t know? A babysitter I don’t remember? My trustworthy dad who has never ever hit us or barely yelled but still keeps secrets of his childhood? Crazy cat lady mom that is going to have Dementia any day now? Uncle Tom who did drugs and alcohol? My piano teacher that clearly was trying to poison the kids with her juice by saying it was “too sweet for her” and gave me pearl earrings last summer even thought I quit her lessons a year before that?
I really don’t know what to make of this. First of all, this could be my imagination. Maybe I’m crazy, no I am crazy, already established. I might want to have real problems. Or maybe I’m doing this for attention, even if everything above this is truth, nothin
@ "D" – I might have given personal information but it doesn’ include names, location, phone numbers, or e-mails. How can someone stalk me? Thanks for saying it sounds like a chapter from a book though. That made me really happpy.
@ "Mick" I think you’re right and thanks. But thin veil of rage? WTF?