This isn't really a recovered memory but just something that occurred to me. At one point I was trying to see how much I could remember of my early childhood. A lot of it seems murky. I just was curious... I had no intention to reopen old wounds. Then I realized that around the age of 3, maybe early into 4, I had exactly one memory that's still somewhat intact. It reaffirmed to me, crystal clear, that there just wasn't love where I thought there was. 

I remembered being absolutely terrified, but I can't remember why. There was a baby gate. I was carrying a blanket around, an at the time anxious habit of mine. My mom was talking to someone with her in the living room, though I don't remember who. It was known that I had some sort of developmental problem that had yet to be diagnosed at the time, so the baby gates were kept a bit longer (this disability was later diagnosed as autism). I think someone had hurt me. I can't say for certain. At the very least scared me. But I remembered desperately trying to push the baby gate down. The entire time my mom ignored me. I vividly remember her talking to the other person telling them that I'd get over it. She yelled at me a few times to.go away and I kept persisting. Eventually she got tired of my presence and cries for help and pretended not to notice me. I stayed at the gate for another good half hour begging her to help me. I eventually started crying and wandering into another room having given up on my mom's comfort.

It's strange. I felt so strongly attached to the people in my life for so long. They'd been tired of dealing with me for literally as long as I can remember. Every time I asked for help, people made sure that I knew I was alone. It's no wonder she didn't care I got orally assaulted almost just out of view of her front door. She even talked about how disrespectful I was to the person who assaulted me, how I must have annoyed him or something. It's no wonder my mom responded to my brother's inappropriate touches with laughter. It makes total sense now why she responded with physically beating me into silence on my own birthday just for saying that I had trauma. I deserved a voice. I deserved to have a mother who wasn't also a judge, and I didn't deserve my brother who'd come up to take her side against me in every single dispute we had, no matter how innocent I was. I deserved hugs and kisses and cuddles and to be asked how I was hurting and if someone was making me unsafe. Not defenses for them.

In my friendships now I always seem to wear out my welcome. I always seem to be the nuisance, the buzzing mosquito nobody can quite smack to the floor. I keep retreating back into my shell because I just worry I'm going to piss away any good will I have with anyone. Why make friends? Why talk? My trauma, my disability, my mental illnesses, they all put a burden on everyone else. I want friends I can be honest with for once. I want family where I can talk about my sexual trauma and it not have to be this constant risky secret that puts me in danger of pissing people off to the point of hitting me just for saying I'm in pain. So far, it's been demonstrated to me I'll never have that connection. I'm always here to blend in. My problems always painful for someone else. Why talk about my sexual trauma. It constantly carries the risk of having people abandon me for it. Why try to build friendships and connections. They all reveal to me they don't want me and that it's easier to tuck me into a corner where we don't have to think about this weird person and his problems he never seems to be quiet about. Nobody ever thinks about the fact that I have no choice but to carry that with me my entire life. It's all been a lie. All of that love I felt for them. It meant nothing. I just want to curl up in here and die. There's no point. I keep trying to come out of my shell and getting rejected. My birthday has already been full of people telling me my interests are fucking stupid and that we don't give a shit and we're not going to give you a single thing you ask for. Remember, it's about what other people want to buy you, it's about US and what WE want to buy you. Fuck your useless interests, fuck you as a person, this is all stupid and childish. We just don't fucking like you. I want it to end. I don't want to go back out there again. Stop pretending I matter. Just stop. It's an act. I know you hate me for the fact that I was assaulted and that I just keep insisting that I'm hurting. You want me in hiding and that's where I am. Why do you keep dragging me out here to to torture me and remind me you resent me? I still don't understand what I did to you to make you loathe the way you do. I can't even hide myself from you without you hating me for it. I just want a sign that someone out there actually cares.