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(Sorry if this sounds jumbled!! It was hard for me to think about it all at one time and write it all out.)
*TW mentions of s*lf h*rm, non-consensual touching, minor violence, and a big ol' panic*
Three months ago in March, I sat on my bed in front of my notebook, trying my hardest to remember events in my childhood for an online project that required my experiences to tell. I've always had a spotty memory and am pretty consistently forgetful, so I began going through old photos and trying to think of every moment I could from my years in elementary school. I thought of my sister, and then how we'd had a Barbie Dreamhouse we would play at in the basement, and then I'd started pushing myself further to remember all the games in the basement. There was a tacky color rug spread out over the concrete floor of the play area (the basement was and still is unfinished, just concrete and insulin) and countless stuffed animals strewn across two couches. I remembered it as being a fun place. But then I thought more, and I could feel myself grow upset that my sister and I didn't get along so we'd likely never hang out like that again, but as I thought about our poor relationship and the play area in the basement, one horrible memory came back to me. And then more.
I was sitting alone on the cold rug in the basement and I don't remember what I was messing with, but it was likely a Barbie doll or some other toy. I was in elementary school. Earlier that day my sister had insisted we try something later and I agreed to do whatever she wanted when she asked for it. And so I was waiting in the basement, cross-legged on the cool floor, when I heard her footsteps coming down the stairs. I said hi to her and asked her what she'd wanted to do, and she told me she wanted to kiss me. On my privates. I was young and she was the older sibling, by two years, so I just took off my pants as she asked me to and got on my stomach. I remember feeling confused and then a sudden explosion of nervousness and discomfort as soon as she touched me. I didn't understand what was happening, and I know she was young too (at least 9-10? So I would've been 7-8? I can't remember what our exact ages were) but looking back on it I figure she might've or probably did have an idea of what she was doing. I didn't. After a bit, I asked her if we could stop, and said that I didn't really want to be doing this anymore. She kept her hands on me for a little bit after I asked before saying okay and then just going back upstairs. I remember I felt my heart racing but I just pulled my pants up and stayed in the basement playing with Barbies for a little while longer before my parents got home and I had dinner. I didn't tell them about it, I didn't really think I had to. I knew I didn't like it, but I didn't like plenty of other things like being pinched or teased by my sister, but I didn't say anything about those, so I thought it was something I didn't really need to talk about. And so I forgot about it, until three months ago. I feel like it was in the back of my mind for a while, like I remembered parts of it, but it never came back all at once or as powerfully as it did three months ago, because I just never dug to remember all of it.
There are also other instances in my childhood where I was chased down the hall by my sister as she yelled because I had set her off for something or other and I remember being afraid she would actually hurt me. One of those times I managed to get into my room in time and slammed the door behind before using all my weight against the door to hold it (no locks on the doors, still live in the same house so there still aren't) and I texted my dad with one hand in a panic saying I thought that she was going to get in and beat me. I didn't want to call him because I knew that if she heard me on the other side, she'd get even more irate and try harder to hurt me. I can't remember what happened after my dad said he was on his way home in response, and I don't know if that's because something bad happened that I'm repressing or if it was just an uneventful resolution that my brain couldn't bother saving. I'll also be brief about this one but my sister did slap me in the hallway last year once too, when I said something that made her mad and she lashed out at me before I could get away. I yelled that she was crazy and scared myself by how loud I was because it's rare that I raise my voice in anger like that. She just stomped back to her room after that exchange and I actually went back in to apologize to her for yelling (I didn't really feel like I was in the wrong but I didn't want her to twist the story to my parents as she's done on several other occasions) and she acted indifferent like she had never even hurt me, and smug like she had the high ground.
Since remembering these things three months ago I feel frustrated and afraid and easily upsettable. (is upsettable a word?) I can't hear her voice without feeling overwhelmed, so I have my fan on almost constantly to drown it out when she's talking with someone on the phone or speaking to my parents. I can't make eye contact with her, I can't hardly look at her at all, without feeling disgusted and upset. I keep doubting my memory too. I keep feeling like maybe I was remembering wrong, maybe it was my fault, or maybe it never even happened and its just all been in my head? I've felt more confused and angry and upset these past few months than I've ever felt in my life. I've had intrusive thoughts several times every day about it, mainly about the basement one, which I consider to be the one that's messed me up most. I feel like she took advantage of me. I feel like this is why I've felt so uncomfortable with intimacy and physical touch for so long, and why I've felt uncomfortable with the prospect of dating someone taller or a few years older than me. I feel like this is why I felt disgusted when I had my first kiss with a girlfriend. And for a while now I've been so easy to scare and surprise, like if you come up behind me and scare me, or hit me even jokingly, I feel scared. I was at the park with a friend earlier this week and they pushed me (ended up being harder than he intended) and I stumbled and felt so indescribably afraid in the moment and upset immediately after.
I don't want to tell my parents, and I don't feel like I can, either. My sister and I right now are both minors. I'm 13 and she's 16, so what could we do? We couldn't just take one of us out of the house. And I know I won't be able to get therapy either if I tell my parents. My parents put my sister in therapy for anxiety and my dad told me how he didn't like it because he didn't know what went on or what was troubling her, and my mom felt similarly. They ended up taking her out of it because they felt like it was a waste. My dad is already uncomfortable with me taking medication for ADD because he thinks I'm just overexaggerating and that every kid has ADD/ADHD in them. It would also definitely mess up the family dynamic. We've all never been super open about problems with each other and it was only until Mother's Day last year that I told my mom about how I had been suicidal and hated myself (I also s*lf-h*rmed frequently but didn't really feel comfortable mentioning that to her.) in March-April. She told me I could come to her anytime with my problems but I just never feel like I really can. And I especially don't feel like I can with my dad, he's oldschool and it's terrifying. He doesn't really support LGBT and I'm queer (my mom told him last year but he was in denial for a long time before saying he accepted it but then going right back to talking down about the movement and the people in it) so I can't talk to him about that. He's not interested in anything that I am so I can't even talk to him about my hobbies. It's just an awkward home. And the more I type here the more I realize how dull it's been my whole life and how now more than ever I feel like none of us know each other and I can't trust them with much.
Anyway. So I've really tried to distance myself from my sister these past few months because of how uncomfortable I feel around her, and I thought it was going to be fine, because we haven't really got along since early middle school, so I didn't think there'd be much of a difference if we just didn't talk altogether. But I was wrong. Four days ago my mom tore me out of bed at night while I was sleeping and told me we all needed to have a conversation. I was incredibly nervous, because this never happens. We never just sit down and talk unless someone's in trouble or there's a problem. So I was sat down on the couch beside my sister, and she was crying. They told me my behavior was unacceptable these past few months and that I've been being unfair and generally terrible to my sister. They said it took her a lot of courage to come forward and tell them this because it's not easy for her to talk about her feelings or problems to them. They said she hasn't done anything to me or been mean, that she's just been reacting to how mean I've been being. I just nodded and apologized and could feel how small I looked and how big of doe eyes I had in the moment, and I hated it. I didn't feel sorry. I felt like it was b*llsh*t because I had been trying so hard to deal with something she'd done to me that has tormented me for months, has kept me up at night crying and holding myself wishing the memories would go away so they wouldn't hurt anymore. I went back to my room after that and cried, hard. I'm a near silent crier so I didn't have anyone coming in to check on me the whole night. My friends who I'd confided in about my memories and troubles already were already asleep, and I had sent dozens of messages, with no reply. I dont think I've ever felt so alone before. Not even when I was teetering on the edge of k*lling myself in March of 2019 did I feel this alone. I cried and held myself on the floor for a bit while so many thoughts tumbled in and out of my brain. I felt like I had to be doing something, but I couldn't do anything. I didn't know what to do. I thought of last year, when I felt hopeless, and realized that the only thing I knew to do then was c*t myself. So I just got up and opened my door. I didn't bother cleaning my face, everyone was in their rooms. I went out into the kitchen and grabbed a random small knife since despite everything, I still felt weird about using the same one I used to use to hurt myself last year. I went back in my room and rolled up my pant leg and just tried to press it as hard as I could to feel something. It was a lot duller than I thought so not much was happening, but I remember feeling absolutely desperate to see even a little bit of blood, like that was all that mattered in the world. So I tried for several minutes, and when I finally drew a little bit of blood, I felt overwhelmingly relieved. But then my head cleared. I felt ashamed after that and couldn't believe I'd relapsed. I thought I was done with these feelings, I thought I was done with doing these things. I felt stupid that something like a lecture had taken down all my hard work of staying clean for a year. I had a couple of thoughts afterward that maybe if I k*lled myself I wouldn't have to feel like this anymore and I wouldn't have to feel the shame of falling back anymore, but I'm too scared to ever go through with it and I know that's not what I really want. It took a long time but after a while I'd stopped crying and my breathing went somewhat back to normal, so I put the knife away and just watched Run BTS on V LIVE until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I talked to a friend about what happened the next day and she gave me love and comfort and stayed on the phone for me for a long time watching shows and talking about what happened or other things to make me feel better. And it's great, knowing I have a friend who loves me and understands, but I still feel terrible and I still want to further understand my emotions toward my sister. Am I just overreacting? Is it trauma? My friend said it likely is but I still find myself doubting my memory and wondering if I'm lying or thinking it was really my fault or it wasn't a big deal. I don't know. But I have a trip with my family tomorrow where I'll be out of state for eight days, and on the road for a total of two, so I'm not excited. I'm going to have to pretend to enjoy talking to my sister or at least tolerate it. And we're going to be staying at a small cabin for the first few days, which I'm worried about, because I can't remember if there's a couch I'll be able to sleep on, or if I'm going to have to share a bed with my sister. I'd feel so uncomfortable and scared having to do that.
Anyway, if you got so far, thank you. Thank you for reading my story. I've written several pieces about what happened to try and tell it how I want and I've written songs and drawn my dreams and feelings to try and deal with it, but it wasn't the same as just outright telling everything. I hope anyone here who reads this can understand or help me figure out if this really is trauma or if I'm just being overdramatic about these events from my childhood.
