I have the view that I would rather keep the bad memories in one place that's already lost to me, rather than bringing it into my own home. I keep the number of visits down to an absolute minimum - Easter/Christmas. This is a real shame, because I hate Christmas for all the stress it brings. Trouble is, there are members of my family that I do want to see. I have 2 adorable nieces - my bad brother's - and another normal wonderful brother (he is usually too busy to visit the family, but comes over if he knows I am coming) I hold a lot of anger and disappointment with my parents, but I still love them. They didn't know the majority of what went on, but they knew enough that they should have done something.

I cleary remember one occasion when my dad picked up the phone to call the police when my brother was having one of his rages. It had got to the point where my dad had become scared of my brother too. I remember standing there feeling so much hope that things were about to change for the better. Then my mum said "if you call the police, they will take him away. If he leaves, I leave". My dad put the phone down.

That is the point where I truly believed I was damned to this existence and that my parents were not going to make things better. That was a real difficult time for me. I actually spent a night lying in wait for my brother with a kitchen knife. I had persuaded myself that I could kill him before he hurt anyone else, cos I truly believe that someone was going to die. He never came home that night.

Fortunately, I managed to take stock more realistically. I decided to do as hard as I could to try and get the school grades to get to college. I found out that there were grants available to help me live in halls. I needed 1 D grade and 2 C grades to get a place at uni. I got 2 Cs and 1 D. I still think I could have done a lot better, but under the pressure of the time, I think I did good.

I did really well away from home, and other than one incident in the first year that I think was my first flashback (a friend grabbed me round the throat as a joke - I collapsed to the floor and put my arms over my head to protect myself - my friend was horrified!), I thought I was finally getting my own life.

In my final year, I suddenly became ill. I had no energy, I could not sleep, I didn't want to eat. I went to the doc and they told me I was depressed. I didn't respond to the medication I was offered. I was told that I should consider going home and coming back to repeat the final year when I was better. Not a bloody chance! I went into overdrive to get all my work done and came out with 2 grade levels higher than I was expected to!

Anyway - I now believe that this was my first real ptsd-like phase, at least, when it took control enough to stop me living what was my normal life. I don't remember having nightmares, but I do remember crying my eyes out an entire night and being very angry with my brother. I was "ill" from January to May. I then finished uni and had to go home. I think that I maybe just went back into the old behaviour patterns that kept me safe. My brothers had both moved out by this time, so the household was much calmer and safer.

Just realised that this is turning into my life story..... :redface: Best go get some breakfast. Maybe I'll print this and take it with me to the docs on Monday!