(October 31, 2017 at 2:06 pm)mlmooney89 Wrote: From the age of 14 to about 23. It came in two different kinds of stages.

14-17 I was secretly being abused on a regular basis by my step father (he had raised me from 3 years old so I called him Daddy) I thought that would be the worst mental state I would ever be in. I would have ended my own life if I was sure that he wouldn't move on to my little sisters if I were out of the picture. My senior year my mom was deployed to Iraq, leaving him to be the sole guardian of us three girls. Figured it was better to just suffer than to allow my sisters any possibility of being hurt.

At 17 I finally broke the silence and he fled the state. I thought keeping the secret all those years was hard but it was nothing to dealing with not only telling people but having most not believe me. I felt like I single handedly ruined my family and more than once I contemplated telling them I lied just to try and take the pain away. I moved out ASAP and was nearly excluded from the family (my mom still took my sisters to go see him in the other state because they were his 'real' daughters and he wouldn't do that to them... plus she didn't really believe me- we both knew that) It wasn't until he killed himself that I started to heal. Eventually the family started to as well. It's been about 5 years since he died and now we just don't discuss it.

i would like to hug you and say ...you're not alone!

When I was a little kid I was at an event in school. It was about time to go home, and I couldn't find my parents in the building, or their car in the parking lot. I thought I'd been left, so I walked home crying. It didn't get better when I arrived home to find no one there, because of course they didn't really leave me at the school. Luckily someone had noticed a distressed child walking the streets, and called my parents, so they knew where I was.

I guess moving into my own house counts as being pretty alone. You have to tend to your own needs then, because no one else lives there to remind you to eat right and keep the house clean and orderly.

(November 14, 2017 at 4:00 pm)Haipule Wrote: The alonest I have ever been was when I went to surf an island off the coast of Tasmania called South Bruny. I didn't see another human for a week--it was awesome!

I also surfed Bali(1979: it was 3rd world back then--not Club Med) and lived in a cave, off and on, for three months. Going to Kuta to get supplies and returning to the cave and constantly doing battle with the fuckin' monkeys trying to steal everything and all the while, keeping an eye out for tigers roaming the beach. I hate monkeys!

I'd expect more respect for our ancestors from a good Christian boy like you.  Still I guess it's no worse than yelling at the kids to get off my lawn.

---

Okay guess I'll give a less flippant reply in the spirit of all the sharing going on here.  (Looking at you, Mooney.)

Bad alone:

In the marriage of my child hood (early twenties) she left me after three years.  I started smoking weed all the time a little at a time, very functional.  We'd call it self medicating nowadays.  Good times for about a year.  I started skateboarding and having other physical adventures every moment I wasn't working, but no love interests.  Hallucinogens on the weekends.  Then the 'medicine' stopped working and stupid feelings came back.  Well they tried but instead I got deeply depressed.  Maybe depression is constipated feelings?

So my six years younger brother, my protege, who got kicked out of the air force for having bad feet, came to live with me.  Kind of a bummer that our last time together was me being such a sad sack as he'd always looked up to me so much and I loved being his mentor.  Anyway one weekend he took us out in his new/old Fiat Spider convertible.  He drove us a bunch of places including a stop at Fort Funston, my first time there.  We stopped for gas just a couple blocks from home and then on our way there a drunk driver in a big American station wagon passed out and hit us head-on.  Just swerved into us at the last second, no way to avoid it.  I was knocked out and in the hospital a week he died at the same hospital a week after I was released.

So I went back to my little beach shack in Pacifica alone .. actually a relief to get away from the well meaning, god-bothering relatives I couldn't escape at the hospital.  Here I recuperated while everything mended and I was out from work on long term disability.  The driver hadn't been insured but I think I got 15k from my own insurance or the state or something.  I slept a lot, mostly during the day.  One night after midnight I was out walking my first dog Bunny when another drunk ran her over speeding out the parking lot of a bar. 

That was when I felt the most alone.  It lasted some months, I lost my social confidence and felt like an alien even relating to the clerk when I needed to go to a store.  Eventually I was cleared to go back to work at Safeway where I'd been stocking shelves at night.  I think I lasted one week.  I remember thinking "I weigh a star", that the effort required to go through the motions of this meaningless job was just more than I could do.  I went home and the next day I called the store and told the assistant manager I wasn't coming in.  At first he though I meant just that day but I told him I wasn't ever coming back.  Then I went walk about, eventually getting low enough that the only way left was up.  Knock on wood, I've never been depressed again nor have I ever felt that social estrangement again.

Already TL;DR material or I'd include one of a couple good-alone stories.

(October 31, 2017 at 2:06 pm)mlmooney89 Wrote: From the age of 14 to about 23. It came in two different kinds of stages.

14-17 I was secretly being abused on a regular basis by my step father (he had raised me from 3 years old so I called him Daddy) I thought that would be the worst mental state I would ever be in. I would have ended my own life if I was sure that he wouldn't move on to my little sisters if I were out of the picture. My senior year my mom was deployed to Iraq, leaving him to be the sole guardian of us three girls. Figured it was better to just suffer than to allow my sisters any possibility of being hurt.

At 17 I finally broke the silence and he fled the state. I thought keeping the secret all those years was hard but it was nothing to dealing with not only telling people but having most not believe me. I felt like I single handedly ruined my family and more than once I contemplated telling them I lied just to try and take the pain away. I moved out ASAP and was nearly excluded from the family (my mom still took my sisters to go see him in the other state because they were his 'real' daughters and he wouldn't do that to them... plus she didn't really believe me- we both knew that) It wasn't until he killed himself that I started to heal. Eventually the family started to as well. It's been about 5 years since he died and now we just don't discuss it.

This is utterly horrible.  I'm so sorry you went through that.

Surely him fleeing says all people need to know about his guilt?

And to not have people believe you.  It sickens me.

Honestly.

Massive cyber hugs coming your way.

(November 22, 2017 at 12:26 pm)Whateverist Wrote: Okay guess I'll give a less flippant reply in the spirit of all the sharing going on here.  (Looking at you, Mooney.)

Bad alone:

In the marriage of my child hood (early twenties) she left me after three years.  I started smoking weed all the time a little at a time, very functional.  We'd call it self medicating nowadays.  Good times for about a year.  I started skateboarding and having other physical adventures every moment I wasn't working, but no love interests.  Hallucinogens on the weekends.  Then the 'medicine' stopped working and stupid feelings came back.  Well they tried but instead I got deeply depressed.  Maybe depression is constipated feelings?

So my six years younger brother, my protege, who got kicked out of the air force for having bad feet, came to live with me.  Kind of a bummer that our last time together was me being such a sad sack as he'd always looked up to me so much and I loved being his mentor.  Anyway one weekend he took us out in his new/old Fiat Spider convertible.  He drove us a bunch of places including a stop at Fort Funston, my first time there.  We stopped for gas just a couple blocks from home and then on our way there a drunk driver in a big American station wagon passed out and hit us head-on.  Just swerved into us at the last second, no way to avoid it.  I was knocked out and he died at the same hospital from which I'd been released about week later.

So I went back to my little beach shack in Pacifica alone .. actually a relief to get away from the well meaning, god-bothering relatives I couldn't escape at the hospital.  Here I recuperated while everything mended and I was out from work on long term disability.  The driver hadn't been insured but I think I got 15k from my own insurance or the state or something.  I slept a lot, mostly during the day.  One night after midnight I was out walking my first dog Bunny when another drunk ran her over speeding out the parking lot of a bar. 

That was when I felt the most alone.  It lasted some months, I lost my social confidence and felt like an alien even relating to the clerk when I needed to go to a store.  Eventually I was cleared to go back to work at Safeway where I'd been stocking shelves at night.  I think I lasted one week.  I remember thinking "I weigh a star", that the effort required to go through the motions of this meaningless job was just more than I could do.  I went home and the next day I called the store and told the assistant manager I wasn't coming in.  At first he though I meant just that day but I told him I wasn't ever coming back.  Then I went walk about, eventually getting low enough that the only way left was up.  Knock on wood, I've never been depressed again nor have I ever felt that social estrangement again.

Already TL;DR material or I'd include one of a couple good-alone stories.

Oh darling! *hugs* I'm so glad you are in a better place now!

(November 22, 2017 at 3:15 pm)The Valkyrie Wrote:

(October 31, 2017 at 2:06 pm)mlmooney89 Wrote: From the age of 14 to about 23. It came in two different kinds of stages.

14-17 I was secretly being abused on a regular basis by my step father (he had raised me from 3 years old so I called him Daddy) I thought that would be the worst mental state I would ever be in. I would have ended my own life if I was sure that he wouldn't move on to my little sisters if I were out of the picture. My senior year my mom was deployed to Iraq, leaving him to be the sole guardian of us three girls. Figured it was better to just suffer than to allow my sisters any possibility of being hurt.

At 17 I finally broke the silence and he fled the state. I thought keeping the secret all those years was hard but it was nothing to dealing with not only telling people but having most not believe me. I felt like I single handedly ruined my family and more than once I contemplated telling them I lied just to try and take the pain away. I moved out ASAP and was nearly excluded from the family (my mom still took my sisters to go see him in the other state because they were his 'real' daughters and he wouldn't do that to them... plus she didn't really believe me- we both knew that) It wasn't until he killed himself that I started to heal. Eventually the family started to as well. It's been about 5 years since he died and now we just don't discuss it.

This is utterly horrible.  I'm so sorry you went through that.

Surely him fleeing says all people need to know about his guilt?

And to not have people believe you.  It sickens me.

Honestly.

Massive cyber hugs coming your way.

This is awful to have happen. You do realize that leaving the state to avoid prosecution makes it a job for the FBI, right, ML?

Oop, missed the part where he offed himself. NVM

(November 22, 2017 at 3:49 pm)Fireball Wrote: This is awful to have happen. You do realize that leaving the state to avoid prosecution makes it a job for the FBI, right, ML?

Oop, missed the part where he offed himself. NVM

Since it had happened for so long and I was 'active' with my boyfriend there was no solid proof and he said she said wasn't enough so the law couldn't do anything. They took a bunch of stuff in for evidence that could have his dna on but it had come back negative. The only reason the cops believed me was because they took my laptop and found my diary where I kept accounts of things and the key strokes matched the dates so it was obvious that I was writing in it when I said I was and it had been for years. They looked at me and said they believed me but could do nothing about it, they were closing the case. The detective actually said "I knew he was guilty." When I told her he killed himself.

(November 22, 2017 at 10:17 am)mlmooney89 Wrote: With every personal story here I keep going oh I wish I could hug her... now I want to hug him... I just wish I could hug all of you. Not that hugs will fix anything but I want y'all to know you aren't alone.

Well, you're a very caring person with a big heart <3

(November 22, 2017 at 4:16 pm)Hammy Wrote:

(November 22, 2017 at 10:17 am)mlmooney89 Wrote: With every personal story here I keep going oh I wish I could hug her... now I want to hug him... I just wish I could hug all of you. Not that hugs will fix anything but I want y'all to know you aren't alone.

Well, you're a very caring person with a big heart <3

And the biggest nails too

(November 22, 2017 at 4:23 pm)Cod Wrote:

(November 22, 2017 at 4:16 pm)Hammy Wrote: Well, you're a very caring person with a big heart <3

And the biggest nails too

mlmooney89 your nails have become very famous, now .... LOL
ehh these men.... hehe, btw you really have nice hands and well-kept nails...

But first of all ... you have a really big heart! Respect!