@mlzg,
Yes, I have thought about writing a book. I have four chapters done. I have had lots of trauma in my life...I think due to my childhood.
All of the "typical" stuff has happened:
*Self cutting VERY often when I was young (teen)
*Failed relationships
*Abusive relationships
*Rape
*PTSD
*Anger and Anxiety Issues
*Hospitalization for suicide attempt @ age 16
I just am so afraid to write the book. Dredging it up is hard as hell. And the book would dredge it all up and it would keep on going...and worse, in the public eye. So there's that.
I, too, have feared for my financial safety. I've been so hungry and so sick so many days of my (younger) life, that I have done a lot to make sure that never happens again. I'm sometimes a food hoarder...not where I keep old stuff in my backpack anymore...but where I overbuy and overstock.
At one point, I had a whole spare bathroom filled with food and toiletries....I'm talking ALL the cabinet space AND on top of, behind, around the toilet and sink....AND the bathtub was filled nearly to the ceiling with stuff stacked up. So I'd never go hungry, be stinky, or have to use toilet paper for feminine needs.
I worked four jobs for a time. Didn't have a day off for over six months at a clip sometimes. After a year of that, I cut down to 3 jobs and that lasted for a couple years. But then, it was ALWAYS 2 jobs. I purchased a house and had a mortgage of $602 a month. It was a 3 bed/2 bath, but 2 beds and a bath were upstairs in a "loft" area. I rented out each of those bedrooms for $300 a month. Then, with working as much as I did and having "no" mortgage/rent because of room mates, I bought another house strictly as a rental. I made a couple hundred bucks on it per month. I was 23.
My now husband (of 18 1/2) years met me when I was like that. He is the one who showed me how life is SUPPOSED to be.
A lifetime is a long time to hold onto anything, though, and both of those houses were sold in times when we were cash strapped.
When I was a kid, and my dad kicked me out, he called the cops on me so that I would not take anything that "he" gave me. The cops stood around while I was leaving, scratching their heads about this guy who would do that. He wouldn't let me leave with a coat or any medication that I needed. He told me that my clothes on my back were his. I had gotten a hope chest as a BIRTHDAY GIFT and my friends and I were trying to haul that ONE item out of the house. (Guess I misspoke in the previous post. My furniture in my apartment was a cot, blanket, and that hopechest that served as my "couch"
One of my friends heard him say that the clothes on my back were his and threw a $20 bill at him for "the clothes." He filed a restraining order against me so that I could not come on his property or see my younger brothers. He changed all the locks. Now I'm 47, and my parents and I have a "tentative" relationship, but I still don't have a key to their house.
It killed me not seeing my younger brothers. And the kicker: the apartment I lived in had a bathroom window that faced my parents' backyard. My brothers were building a "fort" in the backyard and I would hear them hammering when I opened the window. One day, (can't remember how, exactly), they found out where I lived and would sneak food to me through the fence that separated the apartment complex from the houses...
My now husband (of 18 1/2) years met me when I was like that. He is the one who showed me how life is SUPPOSED to be.