Broken Life: Surviving Child Abuse, Ptsd and Mst

By Cinzia

My book is to tell my story of my life living through the child abuse and the hurt I endured of not being a Daddie’s girl. The struggle of trying to become a young girl who was always told that she is no good and will never become someone. Always trying to please my dad so, he will love me. The pain I endured physically when I never could do anything right in his eyes. How to this day, I’m trying to grow up the little girl in me and to show her the love while trying to help me. Let alone, love myself. To let parent’s, know that words do hurt. To tell my story on my experience with sexual assault from a fellow soldier and the great impact it had on my life as a young girl just coming out of high school and entering the military. Having what it took to become a soldier. The loss of my virginity. The, impacts that it has caused in my life. The thoughts of self-harm to escape who I became or who I was. Living a life in darkness. Walls built high and a mask for everyday to hide the pain and the feeling of unworthy. The thoughts of my father being right. No one will ever want me. The loss of my childhood friend who I lost thru suicide. The impact it has caused to this day. To bring awareness to other children and veterans that there is help and there are ways to cope. To let them see that they are not alone. To let you know I care. To let you know you are somebody.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796047127

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 by Cinzia.

ISBN:                  Softcover                        978-1-7960-4713-4

                            eBook                             978-1-7960-4712-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/18/2019

Xlibris

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CONTENTS

About My Book

Introduction

Mystery

My Dark World

Family

Chapter 1     My Mothers Womb

Chapter 2     A Whole New World

Chapter 3     Life as a young girl

Chapter 4     Changes

Chapter 5     Trying To Grow

Chapter 6     It Begins

Chapter 7     Turning 16

Chapter 8     New Year, New Pain

Chapter 9     Vacation Over

Chapter 10   Mental Abuse

Chapter 11   My Father’s Pain

Chapter 12   Soldiers We Became

Chapter 13   Basic Begins

Chapter 14   My Best Friend/Sister Committed Suicide

Chapter 15   Changed Life

Chapter 16   My Life At Camp John, Nc.

Chapter 17   New Unit

Chapter 18   Becoming Promiscuous

Chapter 19   Greece

Chapter 20   Dreadful Camp John

Chapter 21   New Guy, Marriage, Birth

Chapter 22   New Husband/New Life

Chapter 23   Life Of Our Own

Chapter 24   Mylife Now 2017

Chapter 25   The New Guy/Marriage

Statistics

Dedication

ABOUT MY BOOK

My story is written uncut and raw about the past of a female veteran who escaped child abuse. Running from the mental pain in hopes of finding who I would become. Joining the United States Army and only finding I would be back with mental pain along with emotional and physical pain by the rape I endured as a young girl just entering her final duty station. Loosing her virginity to a Sargant First Class who had control of her and her life. Someone who she had to rely on to fight side by side the enemy if ever called to do so. A fellow solider to trust. Faced to make a difficult decision in my life after the rape. To witness a suicide of my childhood friend who joined the military with me. The devastation it has caused me. I’m telling my story because there is a lot of female veterans who have stories like mine and were unable to hold a relationship or maybe even worse, they are trying to overcome the rape itself. The mental torment. Or so much to help a child overcome child abuse. I can’t help you, but I can let you know that you are not alone. To let you know you don’t have to ask for approval for the feelings we carry nor to hide behind our masks, we carry to but to know, it’s kind of abuse whether it’s physical, mental etc. has an effect on children and us as female veterans. Maybe worse than others. It damages our self-esteem. In hopes of breaking the cycle of child abuse and military sexual assault, which may be impossible by writing my story. People remember children are our future. So are the female veterans entering a man’s world in the military. Some may judge and that’s okay, I understand. I’m not looking for pity, just telling my story. It’s okay to feel this way. We earned that right. To also let you know how other parts of my life affected me dealing with PTSD and self-harm. To let parent’s, know that any name calling has an effect on children. Whether you believe it or not. I am proof.

Sometimes, which is not often, on my good days my mind is blank to writing. Not to say my thought of past are not surfaced. Guess I’m numb. So, I sit in a daze waiting for my mind to connect with my pen. It’s not happening so does that mean I’m at peace or is it just my pen cannot keep up with my running thoughts. Which is a norm for me. I cannot say my mind is my friend. I connected closer to my pen and paper. We share the deepest painful thoughts. I know my pen will never criticize me or judge me unlike my mind that criticizes me constantly and tells me I’m no good. Or I have life alone. In my mind it’s a battle wondering when will the war end. They say forgiveness is a start, but I don’t know how or even if I’m capable of such. I know it’s the right thing to do. Suffering is also one of my norms. At times I feel so lost. I lost my mind, my life and happiness. So, isolated I stay. I just exist, with no feeling, no love to be found yet, but I exist with a mask. Just sitting and waiting, getting older, waiting until the end of my time. Sometimes I wish it would be quick, but then I don’t want to hurt my children. They would never understand if I took my own life to escape the hurt and pain of my life. So, I drug myself up and don’t have a care in the world. Able to face my make believe, life. To cover up the pain and hurt. The torment of my soul. No one understands. No one knows me so it shouldn’t matter if I go in peace. Then, there is times I do feel there’s a little hope and I don’t want to give up, but at this point I see nothing. My mind is sprung, emotions are high, I had a life at once, but now it seems gone. My life has no definitions, no answers. My secrets I hold. I may not be perfect, but neither are you. My arms are filled with the scars of life. Someone once told me, that the blood I draw is from myself harm is my tear, since the rule of no crying was put in place in my early life. I’m just a simple girl reaching out to those like me.

INTRODUCTION

MAKING A PLEA

I cannot trust you with all my hurt and anger I feel. I’m living on borrowed time. I want to be who I was put on earth to be. I want to be who I use to be, but I’m not sure who that girl is. For everything that has happened to me, please help me understand life. I want happiness, but if that means trusting, I, cannot or will not trust a soul, maybe in time. I’m scared for life. The unknown. I want to take a drink to face reality in a make, believe way. I’m crying out, can’t you see. I need to learn to let the pain of my father and SFC Hail go so I’m not ruined for life. May be too late. I want to be like you. Full of life, you, who is reading this.

STOLEN LIFE

I have many masks I carry around. One for each day, every moment, for every pain and every scar I carry. As a child my life was already broken. A victim to pain, a victim to blood. No one to hear my unspoken words. You would call me names, you yelled at me and hit me until blood was drawn. I was unable to move dad, you won. I didn’t cry, I always locked my tears in like you told me to do. All the scars I really tried to hide. The doctor asked what happened, but for you Dad, I lied to protect you. I made myself look crazy and blamed it all on me. Made the doctor think I was crazy. Told her I hit myself, risk being sent to a mental ward. I tried to grow up and become a young girl, but I feel I failed you Dad. Left home to face life alone. I tried to leave the memories behind, but the scars followed. Been thru more than anyone can comprehend, not knowing one day the victim to pain, the victim to blood and more scars would take a spot in my life again. WHY?

MENTAL PAIN

You win, I want to say, but then where will I be? I have so many scars of pain on my arms, scars for life. Will my story come to an end? No memories of me. You want me to think I’m no good. I’ll never become anyone. I’m not capable of loving again, not even myself. You want to believe ending my life is the perfect thing to do. Is it? Because of you I have imperfections. I struggle every day to make it thru this cruel world of mine. I’m hanging on. I try every day to believe not all people are out to hurt me. I guess I’m another soldier all the Doctors talk about at dinner and wine. How to fix me so I don’t fall behind. I’m just another soldier, who has got to stay high to fight the mental pain that subsides. I ask of you, mental pain, do not take my life I want to fight.

JUST ME

If you want to know just me, I can’t tell you because I’m still learning about me, but here’s my life. I sit in a room all alone, just my paper and pen, my only friend. Guess you can say my story is told thru my pen. I see my visions and my thoughts. When I write, it feels good. I’m uncovering all those painful thoughts. Everything that is hidden. The visions so clear. As I write what is so painful and tormenting, which maybe I shouldn’t, having a clear and creative mind, I have to apologize to myself for going back to a place I don’t exist. All, of my thoughts are pure and raw. I reach into my deepest thoughts and if I listen deep inside, I can let my mind connect with my pen and paper to let all the emotions come thru my hand to tell you my story. I go into my untold world ready to tell 54 years of strife.

MILITARY SEXUAL TRAUMA

First, I want to enlighten people on MST. (Military Sexual Trauma), Child Abuse and PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). It happens to anyone. Males and females of any age or race. MST is a sexual activity where someone is involved against his or her will. He or she may have been pressured in sexual activities or physically forced with negative consequences. It’s a known fact that MST can affect a person physically and mentally. Even many years later. We try to recover but we never fully do. PTSD is a failure to recover after experiencing or witnessing a terrifying event. Child abuse is a physical maltreatment or sexual molestation of a child. The Department of Veterans Affairs has resources for us to manage our way thru these experiences, but not to fully recover. MST can happen on or off post. You may blame yourself, in these disorders. Or feel ashamed. Feel angry or depressed. Troubling feeling loved and happiness. Trouble falling or staying asleep, nightmares, problems concentrating, but we somehow, are able to write, running thoughts or even suicide or self-harm. Problem with prescribed meds or street drugs we turn to. why these events still take place we will never know. Guess not enough being done. In the military life, a rape, most have been reported to a higher ranking official, but these things were swept under the rug in fear it will make their company look bad. God forbid that happens. This again is only my personal experience. Now I will begin to tell you my story. Sadistic as it is. Some of you may be able to relate or there may be a few that after reading this will be awe. I will first tell you my darkness for you to better understand my story.

MYSTERY

THE DARKNESS OF SELF-HARM

I’m writing this because there’s someone out there I need to touch. Maybe, you who is reading this or myself. I will try to help you, even thou I can’t help myself. It’s a hard journey. I can share my experience which is still in control of me. I battle day to day. Exhausted, scars for life. Does all this mean I am weak? Not sure because there are other areas in my life where I like to think I’m strong, but those have nothing to do with my mind. It’s physical. Lack of love for myself has brought me to this dark world, also the feeling of if no one else loves me which I’m yearning for, then why should I love myself? We know that’s the wrong way to look at it but then when we get attacked in our minds, who cares. Soon I will begin to tell you when I get attacked in my mind from everything in my life that has affected me emotionally, I tell you what’s in my darkness. I believe a lot of you who think of suicide or self-harm can comprehend. What brings us there. There is so much we need help with and for people to understand. We really are good people. It’ strange how we will help others even as much as giving our shirt of our backs. We have the kindest hearts, but people don’t see that because let’s face it, when someone feels we have mental issues they want nothing to do with us. We would never, although there are some who just couldn’t deal with this illness anymore and they tried everything to cry out for help and no one was there, so they harmed another and then took their own life. Reason for that is unknown because they aren’t here to explain their darkness. We would rather hurt ourselves. As weird as it sounds it’s pleasing to the mind and soul. They know what I’m saying. So why is this in existence in the individual? I don’t think anyone knows the true meaning. Obvious it comes from our own darkness. Things that could bring it about is past traumatic events or even present ones. Some it may affect on holidays. So, we go into our own state of mind. Mentally. Or at times physically. Just tired of our lives. Tired of going on. All the wondering on why me? What have I done to deserve this? That has crossed my mind, just like I’m sure it has you too. Here is what put me here. My child abuse, death of my childhood friend who went with me into army and committed suicide in basic. Witnessing that. Love one who hurt me deeply. Men and woman who have been to war. Most of all the rape. I am that female veteran who lost her virginity by her rapist and had to abort my baby. I am that child from child abuse. I am a sufferer of a dark world. This led me to suicide thoughts and the self-harm I have done to myself. A lot of you reading this might be going thru something. Your trying to find the answers on why or how, can we escape it. I tried. Does praying help? I suppose it does but when the mind is attacked all that praying goes out the window. The attack on the mind is a war that never ends. Questioning why do we do self-harm? The feeling of no one cares is the pain we can’t endure. It’s important to us to be loved or liked. The pain of no one, not even family members wanting to help us, but let’s face it who really does help people with mental illness? Not even in my opinion the Doctors. They drug us up to mask the problem because they truly don’t understand the suicide or self-harm mind. We don’t either so we can’t expect them too. What really wears on us is the isolation, leaves room for our minds to wonder. I lived that isolated life. So now I tell you of my dark world. I’m sure you will understand totally or yours will be a little different than mine, not much thou.

MY DARK WORLD

IN THE MOMENT

In the beginning I can tell when I get attacked mentally. I go off into this zone. To me there are 3 different zones. 1. Which everyone does is daydream. This is different. 2. Is the way to get a piece of mind, blocking out the world, thinking of things that you seem not to remember when you come back from that moment. 3. When the mind is under attack. All the thoughts and visions and pain, hurt and anger come into existence. All the confusion. Not caring that you are about to hurt yourself. The feelings are so real of the traumatic event. You feel them, every touch, you see them like you were there all over again. You really don’t fight them from entering. I can’t even pray at that time. You just let it happen with no control. The world doesn’t exist. Not even crying out. Please don’t let me go in. I go in willingly. It’s like a drug addiction, going in for my fix. I hear nothing. My body is feeling uneasy. Every what if is filling up my brain. So overwhelming. It got me now just where it needs me to be. It seems like I’m getting closed in. I entered the dark space that keeps me bound, no turning back. The dark tunnel. There, I stand, hurting on the inside. Telling myself you don’t need to do this. There’s a dim light that shines on my wrist. It knows that’s my place to add to my scars of life. I gave it permission to take me and put me at ease. I plead, please take the pain away. No time to ask what do you want from me? I’m already broken. Thoughts of what are you here for? No one cares about you, you are nothing. You can’t even love your-self, you are not worthy of that. False thinking at that time, but it seems so true. The mind is so powerful. Feeling of strength and weakness at the same time. Strength to use the knife and weakness that I did. Your world of darkness gets smaller. Taking every blame, voice in my head, now only knows punishment. Punishment I must inflict to make it all go away. Not knowing of my surroundings or not knowing what’s around me. It’s a world of self-hatred. No cares if I cut too deep. The punishment doesn’t care. Blinded to the outside world I begin with my knife at hand, I’m told to go. So, every blame gets a slash as I say out loud, it’s your fault. So, with anger I call them out. It could be, 1. What have I done wrong? 2. Why am I not loved? I hate me. 3. Angry now on why do I cut? 4. Running from the little girl that needed the love from her dad that she never seen, for me to show her love, to grow her up which, I’m not capable of. 5. The sight of death. 6. My rape. My decision of aborting my baby from my rape. The quilt. So, now I’m numb in so many ways, my knife, I feel no pain. It feels good to release all the turmoil of life. To release the pressure of trying to be normal. It feels good to tell myself, I’m no good, now I can believe what I think at that moment is true. No tears in sight. Don’t cry it will get worse. I continue until all the punishment is gone. And I’m able to open that door and in comes the light ready to fight another day. Sometimes not wanting to come out. How long can I hold on until we meet again, I don’t know. My masks are ready for every moment, every situation, wondering as I look in my closet, which one will it be today? I can say in my dark world I wear all black. There is silence other than me. This is a world I wish on no one. The pain of my knife brings me joy. When it’s all said and done, I walk out like I had my fix. Feeling at ease, feeling exhausted, feeling for once I took care of me. Wrong way to be, I’m well aware of. No words to say, I clean my wrist all along asking myself, why do you do this? I already know the answer. Now I’m able to go on with my day. I sit in peace now. Nothing bothering me. Sometimes, there is a tear, but not often. No feeling of quilt. Mind at ease. It takes about 3 days for it all to end, the feeling of being at ease. During these 3 days, I don’t think of the abuse, death or even the rape. It was handled. Then I’m right back facing this new life head on. Already anticipating another meeting with my dark room. I try to fight, but at this time it is impossible. There I’m secure. I don’t count how many times I go there. It’s mine. It can be referred to as my black hole where I have lived many years. A lot of us veteran feel it. Isolation. It’s hard transitioning to the civilian world. My dark hole was created from the suicide of my best friend/sister in basic. Too much, to bare. I put my name on the door of my black hole once I got raped by SFC Hail. One thing I do know, that we all go into a dark space, maybe a different color, or room, or mind set, but I don’t think that part of the mind is different. Maybe the room is different from suicide thoughts verses self-harm. I am, pretty confident, it’s a dark space no one wants to be in. the darkness is why no one understands the mind, because it’s ours full of pain, hurt and anger, and confusion. No will to go on. We respect our dark space. No one allowed in. Our darkest secrets are within, it knows our life. It knows what brings us there. Maybe it’s in control.

FAMILY

DAD

My dad was a good looking, man. Tall and slender. Dark black wavy Italian hair. He served in the Marine Corp, when he turned 19 years old. Stayed In, I believe 3 years. He married his high school sweetheart. Which is my mom. He worked hard to support his family. He loved soccer. He was a nice man to others, but he had an angry side which us kids saw. He always wanted the best for us. I think he had his vision on how or what we should become when we grew up, but that’s his vision. We want to write our own story.

MOM

My mom was a very pretty lady. Dark black hair also. Really a tiny lady. She always wanted extravagant things and got them too. She always stayed at home to take care of us kids. Guess she got tired of it and went to work as a telephone operator. She was a great cook. I was never close to her like my sister and brother. Never understood until later.

BIG BROTHER

My big brother, well, he was pretty cool. We were pretty close. He was a quiet person. We went thru a lot together, which will get explained later. He enjoyed his big 4 wheel trucks and going to tractor pulls and rodeos. He was a big cowboy. He is married now and has 3 kids. Lives in Colorado

BIG SISTER

My sister, well she was a dainty young girl who loved her dresses. My parents loved that. She had long brown hair, it was very pretty and thick. She was afraid of a lot. I would always protect her. I always thought she was a Daddies girl. She works in the school system now. Married with 2 children. Lives in Texas.

MYSELF

as for me I was a little more outgoing. Wasn’t to quiet. I enjoyed a lot of things at that time. I did thou stay in my bedroom a lot listening to my music and with my dog, who was my rock.