Today, I wanted to share a community submission that slipped through the cracks. This perspective comes from Timothy, a member out of Portland who struggles with anxiety, isolation, and depression.

I want my fucking life back! I am so tired spending hours on the phone putting out fires in my life. Rocking back and forth in my chair with hands around my chest trying to cope with the poverty and all of it…….Thank you so much for listening it means a great deal to me I feel if I am not alone as I type this to you.

When did your trauma start?

It started with my mother in NW Portland – we were in public housing. She was kind, but from about ago 10 she would leave for days at a time with a note with the food stamps. So what do you fucking do you when 10 years old for 3 to 4 days at a time.

School was brutal. I never felt normal and was always taken aback by how kind my teacher was. Then my mom had to move like every 6 months, so I was the new kid at school the rest of the time I lived with her. Finally for some odd reason she sent me to my dad’s home. I felt like she discarded me some holding her back from the lifestyle she wanted; I stated clearly to everyone that I did not want to live with him.

So I move, and suffer years of verbal abuse. I had to leave home at 17 with no high school finished. I cut my family off – too much trauma all ready done. By the grace of god my grandparents gave me my set of rules to live by and then took great interest in me and were the only nurturing people in my life.

I came back only to visit on the weekends, and would be so fearful of what I would come home to. My father was a late-stage alcoholic and for all I know might have been suffering from wet brain. I came home one weekend to find that my father tried to take his life and moved his head at the last moment… only for the .357 round to shatter the home next front room window.

Later, my father saw a woman that moved in. At first it was ok, but that lasted all of say, two days. She liked to berate me every time my father would leave.

Unknown to her I had a cassette recorder and placed behind one of the chairs to record one of her abusive outbursts that happens when only my father was not at home. She starts right up and I record it. I wait for my father came home – great he is sober! I place the recorder and play it for both of them, then I leave the house I do not know what was said. I come back in, and the player is in my room, He just looked at me when he left again. I am sitting in my room not knowing what will happen next I was worried she was going to come harm me physically She instead kicks the door into my room and is yelling and how worthless I am.

I can’t take it, so I try and leave my room to hide from her in the bathroom and she blocks my way. I pick her up and place her flat on the wall of the next to the door and punch the wall by her head. I go into the bathroom she is still screaming even more now – there’s no way out, so I sadly just sit and listen. I open the door she leaves a clear path to my room with the broken door. I want to be left alone I did nothing to these people and why did they take so much time to harm me with all these insults and making fun of how I dressed or what I was interested in. Looking back at it was one fucked up ride that I am paying for now.

Shit, what you tell a teen or child should be kind and supportive. So two fucked up people with no skill set to even take care of themselves have me… What the hell were they thinking?

I now look back as an adult with GAD, depression, and PTSD and see it is not self-pity, but more what I have learned from my past experiences that can help me with the present challenges in my life.

What support do you have? When were you diagnosed?

In 2003. I was working at the time and went to a day treatment center. As for the PTSD diagnosis, that came from my therapist. She explained it, but I did not like the label. I thought that it’s a veteran condition. But I after some sessions I had a better idea where it came from for me.

I have a friend, Mary, it’s a non-sexual relationship that part happen shortly after I came back from treatment. She is my lifeline really to the outside world of Portland. We love each other dearly.

How has trauma affected your life?

I isolate a great deal harder each day. I live on SSDI, so with my budget it’s easy to stay in. I sit and then feel prone to long pacing periods.

When I try and go to sleep for a nap I wake up and feel guilty. But that is the only time I feel nothing, when sleeping. I know its not a good habit for me at least.

Tell us more about YOU

Lets see, I have my GED now – on June 20th. That was a lot of work, but it kept me out of my head and I did it.

I have worked in the bearing industry for 17 years. I am now on SSDI, which keeps me going without the fear of homeless and the never-ending cycle that my illness has caused. I don’t like taking money from the government but have no choice.

What I hate is people see me as normal, but if were to engage me in conversation, it still quite hard and they have no idea what mental illness is! What I like to do is listen to music and just find a way to stay in the moment.

Anyway, the idea that you allowed me to tell my story on a Friday night… I might be tearful but I have to find a way that I will improve somehow with the help of others and hard work.

I want my fucking life back! I am so tired spending hours on the phone putting out fires in my life. Rocking back and forth in my chair with hands around my chest trying to cope with the poverty and all of it…….Thank you so much for listening it means a great deal to me I feel if I am not alone as I type this to you.

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Want to connect with Timothy? Let me know at traumatizedmotherfxckers@gmail.com!

Feeling brave enough to share your story? Head over to the submission page, or send your tale to the email address above!

I’ll share as much or as little as you’d like.