Sunday, 27 May 2018 05:53 PM
“
#31443 Long and potentially disturbing read incoming.
I'm diagnosed with mental illness and live at my grandparents’ house. I’m 29. When I was in my teens I molested my 10 year old sibling. She left our family because of it. I have not molested anyone since and have not ever had sex out of fear of bad touching someone (not that the opportunity presents itself often if at all).
I’ve graduated college but did not get very far in my career due to my body language and subtle behaviors apparently giving away my secret and losing any connections. I did get one internship handed to me - a job as an illustrator at a place that makes children’s books. Yep, seemed pretty fucked up to me as well, and I was faced with one of the hardest choices of my life - deny the internship necessary to graduate and ruin any chance at bettering my career and life, or take the internship and don’t fuck up but risk being around children, ruining the company’s reputation, ruining my reputation, etc. Seeing as how option A was throwing everything I worked for away, and option B was ONLY a risk (and I knew controlling my behavior would not be a problem), I went with B. Worked there for ten months. They even let me work from home often.
I finished the first big project I was hired to do - design a website. The second thing was illustrating a book. I took a bit longer than I was supposed to, and the art style I needed to replicate was not as good as it should have been, but it was still decent. I think the stress of fearing that Chris Hansen “have a seat right here” moment plus the desire to not fuck things up might have made me subconsciously sabotage my image there (better to deliver something ok late, get paid and and look like a hack than be at peak talent, do a fantastic job, and improve my reputation going into the children’s book industry). In the end, on my last day in the office, the Chris Hansen moment still happened (the CEO led me in a room with a kid that looked about ten years old, told me to sit down over there, read my emotional expression and body language and that was that).
Since then, I haven’t worked at all. Live at grandparents house. Oddly enough, I had a normal relationship with my other sister. She is one of the few in the family that really forgave me. But in retrospect, it seems more like naivety perhaps due to blocking out the memory, I dunno. I had some nervous breakdowns - literally, as I crashed my car and wandered around the city for a night. I just remember walking through snow (the final project was due tomorrow and I was supposed to meet up with my study group) and around a district downtown. I paid for a cab to take me home and studied with them for a while before flipping out to wander around THEIR neighborhood for a while. Fortunately the got an email that the presentations the following day were all cancelled due to the ice on the roads.
Because of that, I was admitted to a mental hospital. Well, that, and my suicide attempt due to thinking a hitman was going to kill me and everyone I knew to get to my father’s death insurance. Fuck, I was crazy.
In the mental hospital, I learned that my sister was dating a new dude. She has always dated cool bros so I was interested in meeting him. He…was not interested in meeting me, it seems. Not sure if he had called the payphone in the mental hospital or what, but while sitting at the dining table I overheard another patient talking to someone about a couple having trouble knowing what to do with a family member. I heard [sister’s name] and [potential bro in law’s name] and my ears perked up. I walked over to ask them if they knew them and immediately was greeted with the message: “…AND [POTENTIAL BRO IN LAW’S NAME] SAYS FUCK YOU! *flips me off*.
After leaving the mental hospital I was left with that time bomb to disarm. For one thing, I wasn’t even sure if it WAS a message from him, even though the evidence seemed to line up. And even if he DID hate me, would he be wrong? My past history of literally molesting my other sibling, a child at the time, out of the family and never really paying for it. It’s possible that he found out and simply wasn’t gonna fuck with that.
So I was left with yet another hard choice: Bring this up to my sister, him, or another family member…or not at all. But the second option meant navigating the minefield for holidays and public events. If he was aware of my past and felt that angered by it, THAT would obviously be the moment the time bomb exploded. I am simply not a good enough liar to avoid acknowledging the time bomb. So I simply avoided meeting him. This is the part where I mention he was iranian american because my actions here would possibly make me look like a racist trashmonster, like I didn’t approve of my sister dating him. In reality I never gave a fuck. I was hyped to meet him. But it seems like the decision of whether or not we would ever get along was made for me (IF he sent that message and it wasn't a prank or misunderstanding). I did meet him finally at a restaurant with my sis, mom, and grandparents. It did not go well. The fact that I was high on several ambien did not help. My nerves were shot and the bomb exploded. Nothing horrible was said, but again, my nervous body language and the mania in my voice gave it away. I clearly looked like I had a problem with him. Well played, I guess.
The wedding happened in January. I did not show up. Since then I have been disowned by most family members including my sister and most of the remaining few family members who was rooting for my feeble attempt to better myself. Maybe they didn’t, but it seems that way due to not getting any birthday wishes from anyone except my mom, two aunts and grandparents.
This is my shit life now, unemployed and living at my grandparents’ house with no friends and almost no family. The clock is ticking and my ride will be over soon. Fuck me for choosing to being a piece of shit child molester at age 14 and double fuck me for thinking it was realistic to move past it and better myself.