What is the worst thing anybody has ever done to you?

[Joshua the Writer]

I'd rather not go into the details and not sure how to explain it without revealing details...
So will just say it was an unfathomable betrayl, stuff people never heard of and would never think is possible.
It falls somewhere between "you just can't make this ish up" and completely unbelievable.

Can you PM me the story, too. That kinda sounds terrible.

 

[Joshua the Writer]

I actually have posted the worst thing somebody has ever done to me before. Not the teachers (hopefully) didn't mean to be malevolent or torturous on purpose, but just didn't know what they were trying to do to help me didn't actually help me much, but whatever. Here is the story:

So, when I was in the 4th and 5th grade, which was during the time when my parents absolutely knew that I was in need of a school that has better resources with me, I started going to a different one from when I was in 3rd grade. They had me go to this new school because I was a bit of a problem in the 3rd grade, as well as the second.

The teachers were nice and attempted to help me a bit with my schoolwork whenever I asked. I even went to a class for the special needs students, which usually took place during the morning homeroom. The teachers working in that room where trained to work with kids on the spectrum, but, since this is the 2012-2013 and 2013-2014 school years we're talking about here, it's debatable as to how well-trained they actually were.

Despite this, there was one problem. The problem was that, whenever I got upset or acted out, whatever teacher's class I was currently in at the time contacted my special ed teachers so they can assist in calming me down.

However, when the Spec Ed teachers went to get me from the classroom I was in, they told me to go to the Spec Ed classroom. When we arrived at the Spec Ed classroom, they told me to go into a small room where they thought that I would calm down inside of, however, that wasn't the case.

They told me to go inside, apparently for me to "calm" down. However, I not once was told I wasn't in trouble or being punished for my actions, so I took it as a punishment. Once I was inside, they closed the door behind me and locked it. Sometimes, they had it unlocked so I can open it a bit and peak out in order to tell them if I needed anything, but that was very rare. It was almost always locked.

The room was small, maybe about 1 and 1/2 or 1 and 3/4 meters squared, but that was what I remembered from eyeballing the measurements from those years long ago. It could have been 2 meter's squared or 2 and 1/4 meters squared, though, so let's just go with that.

It was either a teacher's closet with all the items and shelves removed, or maybe even a small, converted single-serve bathroom before it was the teacher's "cool-down" room. It's ceiling was also shallower than that of the classroom it was connected to.

With the doors locked and the only thing inside was me, myself, my backpack, everything in my backpack, and the crappy school-provided Chromebook, which may or may not have been dead by the time I was in there, I was pretty lonely.

Even though the entire room was effectively lit with one light-bulb, the linoleum floor as well as the small dimensions and cinder-block walls made the entire room feel dark, damp, and like the entire room was closing in on me.

Since the door was locked, it felt like I was trapped in there and had nowhere to go. I felt imprisoned. Whenever they had me go into that tiny room, they said it was so I can "think and calm down," but I couldn't think of anything, and I couldn't calm down easily in there, either. All I could think of then was how miserable I felt in the room and how to escape it.

The room wasn't look very clean, either, so the teachers/janitor probably ignored their duties in cleaning that room. There was always dust and black skid marks from desks and shoes on the floor, and the walls had dust in the grooves between each piece of cinder-block that were caused by how the materials were always masioned in the schools.

I think the desk broke on one of the other Spec Ed students who had to go in their, too. Fortunately, the kid was alright. However, after removing the crumbled desk, they didn't replace it until after a couple weeks, and I was in there during that time where there was no desk, which caused me to uncomfortably on the lino floor, with my back supported by the cinder-block wall.

That was uncomfortable and kinda reminded me of a medieval dungeon cell, the only difference is that it lacks the one positive aspect that a dungeon cell has: the ability to look towards the outside world in some sort of way. The door was made of solid wood, and there was no window, since it was a room that did not share the exterior wall that the room it was connected to.

This made me feel like I was imprisoned, like nobody even wanted to see me. I usually try to calm down by pacing when I am in a room by myself, since that releases any excessive energy I may have at the moment. However, due to the small dimensions, I couldn't. Any type of physical activity I tried to do was restricted by how small the room was.

I eventually did calm down sometimes in the room, but it took a long time for me to do so. After a while, I have learned the skill to very convincingly hide my signs and how I felt from people around me after a few minutes of feeling a ton of anxiety, which is a skill I still have, and I have used it when doing group projects in middle school so my ideas looked more convincing to the peers that I was working with (although, since everybody I worked with in group projects turned out to be a group of slackers, I did all the work, and got all the credit, while the slacking students got none, so I had all the creative freedom in group projects), I would say it was a very beneficial skill to have, and will be even more beneficial in the future due to me also wanting to be a role model of sorts as well as a game dev, so my aside comment makes sense. I'd hopefully be working with people who slack off less whenever I work in a team.

Because of this skill, I could just knock on the door to get the attention of my teachers who were on the other side, and then tell them, in a tone of voice that was extremely close to the one I naturally use when talking in much less stressful situations, that I was calm and wanted out. This was a nice "get the hell outta there" tactic I created for myself whenever I was in that tiny room. It worked most of the time, too.

Eventually, the teachers caught on somehow, and stopped listening when I used the skill to my advantage, and still made me go inside that anti-safe room whenever I acted out. I am pretty sure that the teachers tried to make this a sort of safe room, but it felt like it had the opposite effect of one. Also, aren't safe rooms much larger and a bit nicer?

Anyways, that was just me rambling my thoughts. Thank you for reading this far.

 

[ftfipps]

Wow, you described that with AMAZING detail. This is interesting to me. I was fortunate enough to escape being in special ed classes.

 

[Fino]

Would it be possible to have the title changed? Maybe something like "worst experience". I find reading this title very uncomfortable and I'll be continually reading it by accident whether I want to or not, as long as it's in the "New Threads" section. Unless there's a way to "hide" a thread.

 

[Daydreamer]

I'm not an Aspie or have an ASD to my knowledge, so whilst I realise the point of this thread was to talk about the bad experiences that those with autism have experienced, I hope it's OK for me to post here. You are free to ignore this post if you wish.

Here are some moments that stand out;

- When my school counsellor told me that I was stupid, worthless, and that I'd never make anything of myself whilst she was having a breakdown. Somewhat ironic that the therapy left me with more problems than when I first walked in. I was fairly young at the time, and back then I thought she was right about me, which lead to a dangerously low sense of self-worth.

-The childhood depression. I didn't have the best childhood, it could've been worse, but it definitely wasn't healthy. Self-hatred, harming myself, being physically bullied everyday to the point of limping home, and the psychological effects of the neglect from my teachers. The school was left unattended regularly, our teachers would sometimes expect a few of us to look after the younger years whilst the only members of staff on school grounds were the caterers and cleaners.

It was an incredibly stressful job, I'd never had any teacher training (obviously), the kids didn't respect me because I was only ten, and children kept getting into dangerous situations. Kept worrying that I'd go to deal with one situation, and miss another threat whilst I was dealing with the other. I should never have had to deal with such things, I wasn't emotionally mature enough to handle it. So I was stuck in a situation where I wanted to move schools but at the same time I feared for the children's safety, which is why I decided to stay. I wanted to protect the younger kids as much as I could, because I feared that without me there they could seriously hurt themselves...or worse. I felt a sense of responsibility, I knew our teachers usually abandoned us so I thought that it was up to me. That it was my job. Which is truly messed up. I was ten, I should've been enjoying being a child...not depressed from being psychologically and physically bullied, dealing with self-worth issues, and trying to keep a freaking school running because the teachers weren't doing their jobs...

-Being squashed between two power assisted doors by two groups of teenagers. Unfortunately, my claustrophobia was often targeted by bullies. My phobia grew even more as a result of these experiences. The worst of them was being squashed between these doors, I'm glad it wasn't as serious as it had the potential to be. Whilst my body recovered after a while of being sore with throbbing pain all over, I was emotionally shaken by this for a lot longer. Even now it affects me to an extent.

-The time I was gagged by someone's hand, held down on the floor, kicked repeatedly, and my hands were stood on whilst they wore trainers and applied all their force. I wanted to scream out with pain but only muffled sounds came out whilst tears fell down my cheek. Group of preteen boys. I was thirteen...happened a few days before my fourteenth birthday.

Well, time to listen to some happy music after writing all that.

 

[Glytch]

I actually have posted the worst thing somebody has ever done to me before. Not the teachers (hopefully) didn't mean to be malevolent or torturous on purpose, but just didn't know what they were trying to do to help me didn't actually help me much, but whatever. Here is the story:

So, when I was in the 4th and 5th grade, which was during the time when my parents absolutely knew that I was in need of a school that has better resources with me, I started going to a different one from when I was in 3rd grade. They had me go to this new school because I was a bit of a problem in the 3rd grade, as well as the second.

The teachers were nice and attempted to help me a bit with my schoolwork whenever I asked. I even went to a class for the special needs students, which usually took place during the morning homeroom. The teachers working in that room where trained to work with kids on the spectrum, but, since this is the 2012-2013 and 2013-2014 school years we're talking about here, it's debatable as to how well-trained they actually were.

Despite this, there was one problem. The problem was that, whenever I got upset or acted out, whatever teacher's class I was currently in at the time contacted my special ed teachers so they can assist in calming me down.

However, when the Spec Ed teachers went to get me from the classroom I was in, they told me to go to the Spec Ed classroom. When we arrived at the Spec Ed classroom, they told me to go into a small room where they thought that I would calm down inside of, however, that wasn't the case.

They told me to go inside, apparently for me to "calm" down. However, I not once was told I wasn't in trouble or being punished for my actions, so I took it as a punishment. Once I was inside, they closed the door behind me and locked it. Sometimes, they had it unlocked so I can open it a bit and peak out in order to tell them if I needed anything, but that was very rare. It was almost always locked.

The room was small, maybe about 1 and 1/2 or 1 and 3/4 meters squared, but that was what I remembered from eyeballing the measurements from those years long ago. It could have been 2 meter's squared or 2 and 1/4 meters squared, though, so let's just go with that.

It was either a teacher's closet with all the items and shelves removed, or maybe even a small, converted single-serve bathroom before it was the teacher's "cool-down" room. It's ceiling was also shallower than that of the classroom it was connected to.

With the doors locked and the only thing inside was me, myself, my backpack, everything in my backpack, and the crappy school-provided Chromebook, which may or may not have been dead by the time I was in there, I was pretty lonely.

Even though the entire room was effectively lit with one light-bulb, the linoleum floor as well as the small dimensions and cinder-block walls made the entire room feel dark, damp, and like the entire room was closing in on me.

Since the door was locked, it felt like I was trapped in there and had nowhere to go. I felt imprisoned. Whenever they had me go into that tiny room, they said it was so I can "think and calm down," but I couldn't think of anything, and I couldn't calm down easily in there, either. All I could think of then was how miserable I felt in the room and how to escape it.

The room wasn't look very clean, either, so the teachers/janitor probably ignored their duties in cleaning that room. There was always dust and black skid marks from desks and shoes on the floor, and the walls had dust in the grooves between each piece of cinder-block that were caused by how the materials were always masioned in the schools.

I think the desk broke on one of the other Spec Ed students who had to go in their, too. Fortunately, the kid was alright. However, after removing the crumbled desk, they didn't replace it until after a couple weeks, and I was in there during that time where there was no desk, which caused me to uncomfortably on the lino floor, with my back supported by the cinder-block wall.

That was uncomfortable and kinda reminded me of a medieval dungeon cell, the only difference is that it lacks the one positive aspect that a dungeon cell has: the ability to look towards the outside world in some sort of way. The door was made of solid wood, and there was no window, since it was a room that did not share the exterior wall that the room it was connected to.

This made me feel like I was imprisoned, like nobody even wanted to see me. I usually try to calm down by pacing when I am in a room by myself, since that releases any excessive energy I may have at the moment. However, due to the small dimensions, I couldn't. Any type of physical activity I tried to do was restricted by how small the room was.

I eventually did calm down sometimes in the room, but it took a long time for me to do so. After a while, I have learned the skill to very convincingly hide my signs and how I felt from people around me after a few minutes of feeling a ton of anxiety, which is a skill I still have, and I have used it when doing group projects in middle school so my ideas looked more convincing to the peers that I was working with (although, since everybody I worked with in group projects turned out to be a group of slackers, I did all the work, and got all the credit, while the slacking students got none, so I had all the creative freedom in group projects), I would say it was a very beneficial skill to have, and will be even more beneficial in the future due to me also wanting to be a role model of sorts as well as a game dev, so my aside comment makes sense. I'd hopefully be working with people who slack off less whenever I work in a team.

Because of this skill, I could just knock on the door to get the attention of my teachers who were on the other side, and then tell them, in a tone of voice that was extremely close to the one I naturally use when talking in much less stressful situations, that I was calm and wanted out. This was a nice "get the hell outta there" tactic I created for myself whenever I was in that tiny room. It worked most of the time, too.

Eventually, the teachers caught on somehow, and stopped listening when I used the skill to my advantage, and still made me go inside that anti-safe room whenever I acted out. I am pretty sure that the teachers tried to make this a sort of safe room, but it felt like it had the opposite effect of one. Also, aren't safe rooms much larger and a bit nicer?

Anyways, that was just me rambling my thoughts. Thank you for reading this far.

Wow. Just, just wow. What exactly made them think that locking a child in a small room with no windows would be a good idea?
I am so sorry you had to experience that.

 

[Mathalamus]

the worst thing ever to happen to me has become a disturbingly routine thing: removing me from their lives, usually by blocking me, with no explanation whatsoever. distant friends, close friends, they all can do that.

i just shrug and move on..... rarely will i make an effort to re-establish the friendship.

 

[tree]

I did it because I wanted people to not feel alone when they have unfortunate experiences. That was my aim.

Reminds me of a story that illustrates that concept.
The worst thing that happened to a young mother....

Spoiler

Kisa Gotami is the name of a young girl, whose marriage with the only son of a wealthy man was brought about in true fairy-tale fashion. She had one child, but when the beautiful boy could run alone, he died. The young girl, in her love for him, carried the dead child clasped to her bosom, and went from house to house of her pitying friends asking them to give her medicine for the child.

But a Buddhist mendicant, thinking "She does not understand," said to her, "My good girl, I myself have no such medicine as you ask for, but I think I know of one who has."

"O tell me who that is," said Kisa Gotami.

"The Buddha can give you medicine. Go to him," was the answer.

She went to Gautama, and doing homage to him said, "Lord and master, do you know any medicine that will be good for my child?"

"Yes, I know of some," said the teacher.

Now it was the custom for patients or their friends to provide the herbs which the doctors required, so she asked what herbs he would want.

"I want some mustard seed," he said; and when the poor girl eagerly promised to bring some of so common a drug, he added, "You must get it from some house where no son, or husband, or parent, or slave has died."

"Very good," she said, and went to ask for it, still carrying her dead child with her.

The people said, "Here is mustard seed, take it."

But when she asked, "In my friend's house has any son died, or husband, or a parent or slave?" they answered, "Lady, what is this that you say? The living are few, but the dead are many."

Then she went to other houses, but one said, "I have lost a son"; another, "We have lost our parents"; another, "I have lost my slave."

At last, not being able to find a single house where no one had died, her mind began to clear, and summoning up resolution, she left the dead body of her child in a forest, and returning to the Buddha paid him homage.

He said to her, "Have you the mustard seed?"

"My lord," she replied, "I have not. The people tell me that the living are few, but the dead are many."

Then he talked to her on that essential part of his system -- the impermanence of all things, till her doubts were cleared away, and, accepting her lot, she became a disciple and entered the first path. Death of a Child: Folktales about Excessive Mourning

 

[Jessup]

A few narcissists once persuaded me to join Facebook. Damn glad to see the back of it. Worst encounter was a pessimistic feminist clogging up my newsfeed with vile rape culture drivel.

 

[Adora]

There have been numerous occasions that are too many to count and has left a lot of emotional scars on me, I was abused emotionally and psychologically at both my home by my father and was also severely bullied at school to the point where I left school for good at age 13,but between those times and even afterwards I had some experiences where my social naivety and trustworthy nature was taken advantage of and abused,I can’t go into a lot of details here since it’s not in the private or serious discussion but all of this also contributed to my co existing condition Complex PTSD which I find more crippling than my Aspergers.

 

[rollerskate]

There was a guy M I was dating for a few months while I was working on saving up the money to move out of my roommates house and get my own apartment so I could get my children back from DCF, as well as go to driver's school and purchase my first vehicle. When I had the money aqquired for all of this and was looking for an apartment, M started saying he was having issues with paying his bills, and asking me if I would move in with him to help out. He reasoned it would save me the deposit money, and he would clear out his office so my children would have their own room according to DCF's standards. I didn't really want to do it because we hadn't been dating long and past experience has taught me that people can be way different in the early stages of a relationship than they are later on down the road. I talked to my DCF therapist about it, and surprisingly, she told me to go for it, reasoning at least if it didn't work out I would still have my savings to fall back on. He seemed like a calm, stable, laid-back sort of guy, so with her blessing on top of it, I figured I was just being paranoid, and moved in with him. Probably about a week later he lost his job. And then he got another job, but needed me to pay for his gas and food. And then he bought tickets for me and his daughter to two Disney parks, leaving him without his share of the bills, without consulting me at all. Of course, this all was upsetting to me, and I told him he needed to communicate with me more effectively, and stop spending money on frivolous things that would hurt his ability to pay his part of the bills, because he WAS responsible with his money, right? That's what he told me when we started dating.

Well, his daughter got bronchitis, and then he got it, and I emphasized the need to keep the germs away from me because I'm an alpha 1 gene carrier so bronchitis will just stick in my lungs for months. Somehow I got sick anyway (more on this later). After I got sick, I couldn't do much, so I gave him my prepaid card that I loaded $50 on every week from my bank account to use so I wouldn't be carrying my bank account card around. He was supposed to use it only for picking up my medicine and food. The very next day all $50 got withdrawn at the gas station he stopped at to gas up on the way to work. I called him to find out what was going on. I didn't accuse him of stealing it, but he got really huffy and complained about how I had "ruined his entire day" and that it was probably skimmers and I needed to contact my bank to report it. Interestingly, about an hour later, the money was returned to my account. I wouldn't have gotten so suspicious about that if it wasn't for his reaction to it - any normal person would be concerned about what happened, as well. Not jump my case for "ruining their day" or whatever.

It was getting closer to time for my final court date, and the room still hadn't been cleared. He had his daughter every day instead of every weekend. Blamed her mother for forcing the extra visitation, said he couldn't work on the room while she was there. Also said to me that he was worried he would lose me if I lost my boys, that I would blame him for it. Interesting statement to make.

I started finding the holes that were punched in the walls. He said it was the first time he ever did anything like that, that he did it when he found out her mother was cheating. I told him they needed to be patched for DCF. Never happened.

Additionally, there was crayon on the walls, which he said his daughter did as a toddler. But he never supervised her with crayons, and I eventually found out the marks were fresh, because she kept doing more of them. 6 years old. Should know better. Should be taught better.

I still kept quiet. I was having a lot of apprehension, but I was trying to manage the situation to the best of my ability, because those holes in the walls told me this guy has a major temper issue I don't want to set off.

I lost my kids. Had to sign away my parental rights to the youngest because I was too sick to go to court, had to go to the hospital the same day. The reason? This guy refused to take me to the hospital or help me with food. I was severely malnourished, and still coughing up a storm. I really don't even know how I managed to drag myself through that day. And I wasn't even supposed to sign that paperwork if I was that sick. It was considered null and void if I signed it while that sick. But the catch was part of the agreement was claiming I was sound body and mind. But they wouldn't change the court date or anything for me so I could go to the hospital.

Back to this guy. He was being careful to wash dishes with bleach so he wouldn't catch the bronchitis from me again. But I found an unwashed cup from the time the bronchitis first started, that he had been using to give me water. What's really funny about this is he kept saying "I don't know why you're still so sick when we got over it weeks ago." Uhhhh that cup probably.

While I was sick, he started hounding me to go ahead and buy the car and put it in his name, even though I didn't have a license yet. Said I could drive it anyway. I refused. He said, I don't mind. I said, I do, and so do the cops. He kept saying he was going to have to put his bike in the shop, and I kept saying just use Uber to get to work while it's in the shop. That's a lot cheaper than buying a vehicle that you're not going to be able to afford the insurance on when you're having issues just paying your half of the bills.

While I was sick, I kept throwing up the medication DCF had got me on, and my head started clearing up. And I realized, this guy is trying to scam me out of my savings. And he made me lose my kids, out of pure laziness. He could've cleared out that room while his daughter was there. He just didn't want to.

The problem is I spoke up about it instead of finding a way to quietly take all my things and leave.

He exploded in my face, like some kind of wild animal. I ran into the bedroom, said it was over between us. At which point he started constantly barging in and out of the room without knocking, raging at me. I asked him to please knock at least. He got all huffy about that, moved all his things out of the room. But the rage continued... him threatening to kill me repeatedly... to the point I finally started locking the door, afraid to come out. He stayed home from work just to keep raging at me through the door, banging things around outside the room, etc.

There's some details in this I'm going to skip, like the landlord finding out about the holes, and him getting them patched up within an hour, when he couldn't do that for the entire 3 months we were living together.

And how he never wanted to sleep in bed with me, but with his daughter.

Anyhow, I finally ended up calling an Uber driver to come pick me up. I requested he come to the door and help me take whatever things I could get out. I packed all my other stuff up in the closet and garage, made it clear I would be back for it. He threatened the Uber driver, and God bless that driver for continuing to be a gentleman for me even though he was obviously scared.

So. Now he wouldn't let me come back to get the rest of my things. I was in a hotel room. I got an attorney. Instead of facing my attorney, he somehow got the landlord involved claiming I didn't pay rent for the past 3 months. So then I had to pay the attorney to fight with the landlord. And the landlord wouldn't sign the document stating that I could come get my things. Meanwhile, $400 a week in a hotel goes quick. I eventually ran out of the money to fight. Suddenly the landlord was willing to drop the issue. I was supposed to be allowed to come get my things. But when we showed up with the truck, he refused to come to the door. The cops actually suggested I break a window since I was still on the lease and he wasn't letting me out of it. But of course, that would have been more trouble, and I didn't want an eviction on my record.

I ended up having to move to another state with a friend just to afford to survive. Leaving everything behind.

 

[rollerskate]

That friend.... hahaha. He decided I was going to be his girlfriend. I ended up walking straight into another trap. It was a really small, dirt poor town, and I had no transportation except through him. He didn't really care to make sure I had food, and well. I kept on becoming weaker, lost muscle mass, etc. He raped me. I was scared he was going to kill me. I tried to comply, but the fact I acted so scared of him and refused to be his girlfriend enraged him even more. Especially when I started locking myself in my bedroom when he went into rages. So he told me to get out. I said I needed time to do that. I called the cops to see what the laws were, and well. Since he never put me on the lease as promised, I did indeed have to go. So I started packing. And he came home early the next day, skipping class just to have a rage fest over the fact I wasn't gone yet. He demanded I open the door. I kept asking him to call the cops like they told him to if I was not gone, because I knew the cops would at least let me finish gathering what I could and get dressed. I had a feeling I shouldn't open the door without my knife strapped to my hip, but was also scared seeing the knife would escalate things with him, and that I would go to jail for being the only person with a weapon. I opened the door. I thought, at least he can see I'm almost done packing, and just need to get dressed.

He wouldn't stop raging at me and I couldn't get dressed in front of him (I was in my PJs) or focus at all like that. So I started trying to push him outside, reassuring him I would be gone shortly if he would just allow me to finish getting myself together. He grabbed me... dragged me... I started trying to punch him in the nuts to get away... and then we wrestled for a good 20m and I have no idea where I got the strength to wrestle with him, but eventually that energy ran completely out, and he got me on the ground. And started choking me. His grip getting tighter and tighter, him smiling into my face, enjoying watching the life drain out of me, me clawing as much as I could into his wrists thinking, there's no way I'm going to let him kill me without me scarring him for the rest of his life, and someone will want to know how he got those scratches, someone will think to investigate. I was so scared he would kill me and no one would ever even know I was there. That he would get away with it. He didn't just try to cut off air. His grip kept getting tighter. He was going to crush my throat completely.

I lost the ability to claw at him. I lost consciousness, started the outer body experience. He eventually let go. I don't know why he let go. He said I will kill you. I don't know why he let go at all except God. That's the only thing I can think of to explain it.

I crawled away, I was unable to breath, rasping. Unable to talk. Unable to make any phone calls. I started texting his best friend but I couldn't type out the words he choked me. He himself called the cops.... to come get me out of the apartment. Yes, he was positive he was within his rights to choke me, and the cops would just send me on my way after that.

Nope. They came. They saw the broken blinds and thermostat and blood and holes in the walls from our scuffle. They said we might both go to jail depending on what happened. I realized at that moment that it was better to go to jail than be dead. I was grateful to go to jail. And that was the moment I decided I would never ever hesitate to reach for a weapon again out of fear of going to jail for self defense. At least I'd have a chance at being alive as opposed to dead.

But he told them the whole story. He felt that since it was his apartment, I had no right to close that door on him. The cops concluded that no, even in his own place, another person has a right to a little privacy to get dressed. They cuffed him, without any warning that was going to happen. I think it shocked us both. He started arguing with them, they told him to shut up and gave him a sound tongue lashing over what he did to me and how I had the right to some privacy to get dressed and ready to go. That he absolutely had no right whatsoever to do that to me. And they took him away. Him looking all proud with his chest puffed out, like he was a big man.... in cuffs.

I could probably write more about what happened after this, and the feelings I went through, but I'm not. This is the worst things two people have ever done to me. And I'm grateful that I am alive to tell the tale.

 

[rollerskate]

I must say, between the two of them, I have seen what true evil looks like in a person's eyes. It is real. Evil... it's real. It exists. And there are people who are pure evil. Not a good bone in them at all. They enjoy hurting people. They relish the thought of killing someone. I really don't know how I've managed to recover from this. Managed to start going outside again... alone... wearing normal clothes, and not trying to cover myself up as much as possible, covering my face with a hat and sunglasses so no one can see how pretty I am. Though I do always carry a knife on me now. I am way more careful and cautious of people than I ever was before, and I don't think that will ever change. I don't really trust anyone. I am always watching them from inside, a third eye view. It's hard to explain.

 

[ftfipps]

I'm not an Aspie or have an ASD to my knowledge, so whilst I realise the point of this thread was to talk about the bad experiences that those with autism have experienced, I hope it's OK for me to post here. You are free to ignore this post if you wish.

Here are some moments that stand out;

- When my school counsellor told me that I was stupid, worthless, and that I'd never make anything of myself whilst she was having a breakdown. Somewhat ironic that the therapy left me with more problems than when I first walked in. I was fairly young at the time, and back then I thought she was right about me, which lead to a dangerously low sense of self-worth.

-The childhood depression. I didn't have the best childhood, it could've been worse, but it definitely wasn't healthy. Self-hatred, harming myself, being physically bullied everyday to the point of limping home, and the psychological effects of the neglect from my teachers. The school was left unattended regularly, our teachers would sometimes expect a few of us to look after the younger years whilst the only members of staff on school grounds were the caterers and cleaners.

It was an incredibly stressful job, I'd never had any teacher training (obviously), the kids didn't respect me because I was only ten, and children kept getting into dangerous situations. Kept worrying that I'd go to deal with one situation, and miss another threat whilst I was dealing with the other. I should never have had to deal with such things, I wasn't emotionally mature enough to handle it. So I was stuck in a situation where I wanted to move schools but at the same time I feared for the children's safety, which is why I decided to stay. I wanted to protect the younger kids as much as I could, because I feared that without me there they could seriously hurt themselves...or worse. I felt a sense of responsibility, I knew our teachers usually abandoned us so I thought that it was up to me. That it was my job. Which is truly messed up. I was ten, I should've been enjoying being a child...not depressed from being psychologically and physically bullied, dealing with self-worth issues, and trying to keep a freaking school running because the teachers weren't doing their jobs...

-Being squashed between two power assisted doors by two groups of teenagers. Unfortunately, my claustrophobia was often targeted by bullies. My phobia grew even more as a result of these experiences. The worst of them was being squashed between these doors, I'm glad it wasn't as serious as it had the potential to be. Whilst my body recovered after a while of being sore with throbbing pain all over, I was emotionally shaken by this for a lot longer. Even now it affects me to an extent.

-The time I was gagged by someone's hand, held down on the floor, kicked repeatedly, and my hands were stood on whilst they wore trainers and applied all their force. I wanted to scream out with pain but only muffled sounds came out whilst tears fell down my cheek. Group of preteen boys. I was thirteen...happened a few days before my fourteenth birthday.

Well, time to listen to some happy music after writing all that.

Oh ye gods! Man, all that makes my childhood seem like a sesame street episode. My pain didn't start until I was fully grown. I had a fairy tale childhood. I got bullied a little bit but not like that. I really hope this thread helps somebody come to terms with what happened to them.

 

[ftfipps]

There have been numerous occasions that are too many to count and has left a lot of emotional scars on me, I was abused emotionally and psychologically at both my home by my father and was also severely bullied at school to the point where I left school for good at age 13,but between those times and even afterwards I had some experiences where my social naivety and trustworthy nature was taken advantage of and abused,I can’t go into a lot of details here since it’s not in the private or serious discussion but all of this also contributed to my co existing condition Complex PTSD which I find more crippling than my Aspergers.

I'm so sorry darling.

 

[Adora]

I'm so sorry darling.

That’s ok been struggling lately with bad memories and thinking about the experiences I had and it haunts me a lot.

 

[ftfipps]

There was a guy M I was dating for a few months while I was working on saving up the money to move out of my roommates house and get my own apartment so I could get my children back from DCF, as well as go to driver's school and purchase my first vehicle. When I had the money aqquired for all of this and was looking for an apartment, M started saying he was having issues with paying his bills, and asking me if I would move in with him to help out. He reasoned it would save me the deposit money, and he would clear out his office so my children would have their own room according to DCF's standards. I didn't really want to do it because we hadn't been dating long and past experience has taught me that people can be way different in the early stages of a relationship than they are later on down the road. I talked to my DCF therapist about it, and surprisingly, she told me to go for it, reasoning at least if it didn't work out I would still have my savings to fall back on. He seemed like a calm, stable, laid-back sort of guy, so with her blessing on top of it, I figured I was just being paranoid, and moved in with him. Probably about a week later he lost his job. And then he got another job, but needed me to pay for his gas and food. And then he bought tickets for me and his daughter to two Disney parks, leaving him without his share of the bills, without consulting me at all. Of course, this all was upsetting to me, and I told him he needed to communicate with me more effectively, and stop spending money on frivolous things that would hurt his ability to pay his part of the bills, because he WAS responsible with his money, right? That's what he told me when we started dating.

Well, his daughter got bronchitis, and then he got it, and I emphasized the need to keep the germs away from me because I'm an alpha 1 gene carrier so bronchitis will just stick in my lungs for months. Somehow I got sick anyway (more on this later). After I got sick, I couldn't do much, so I gave him my prepaid card that I loaded $50 on every week from my bank account to use so I wouldn't be carrying my bank account card around. He was supposed to use it only for picking up my medicine and food. The very next day all $50 got withdrawn at the gas station he stopped at to gas up on the way to work. I called him to find out what was going on. I didn't accuse him of stealing it, but he got really huffy and complained about how I had "ruined his entire day" and that it was probably skimmers and I needed to contact my bank to report it. Interestingly, about an hour later, the money was returned to my account. I wouldn't have gotten so suspicious about that if it wasn't for his reaction to it - any normal person would be concerned about what happened, as well. Not jump my case for "ruining their day" or whatever.

It was getting closer to time for my final court date, and the room still hadn't been cleared. He had his daughter every day instead of every weekend. Blamed her mother for forcing the extra visitation, said he couldn't work on the room while she was there. Also said to me that he was worried he would lose me if I lost my boys, that I would blame him for it. Interesting statement to make.

I started finding the holes that were punched in the walls. He said it was the first time he ever did anything like that, that he did it when he found out her mother was cheating. I told him they needed to be patched for DCF. Never happened.

Additionally, there was crayon on the walls, which he said his daughter did as a toddler. But he never supervised her with crayons, and I eventually found out the marks were fresh, because she kept doing more of them. 6 years old. Should know better. Should be taught better.

I still kept quiet. I was having a lot of apprehension, but I was trying to manage the situation to the best of my ability, because those holes in the walls told me this guy has a major temper issue I don't want to set off.

I lost my kids. Had to sign away my parental rights to the youngest because I was too sick to go to court, had to go to the hospital the same day. The reason? This guy refused to take me to the hospital or help me with food. I was severely malnourished, and still coughing up a storm. I really don't even know how I managed to drag myself through that day. And I wasn't even supposed to sign that paperwork if I was that sick. It was considered null and void if I signed it while that sick. But the catch was part of the agreement was claiming I was sound body and mind. But they wouldn't change the court date or anything for me so I could go to the hospital.

Back to this guy. He was being careful to wash dishes with bleach so he wouldn't catch the bronchitis from me again. But I found an unwashed cup from the time the bronchitis first started, that he had been using to give me water. What's really funny about this is he kept saying "I don't know why you're still so sick when we got over it weeks ago." Uhhhh that cup probably.

While I was sick, he started hounding me to go ahead and buy the car and put it in his name, even though I didn't have a license yet. Said I could drive it anyway. I refused. He said, I don't mind. I said, I do, and so do the cops. He kept saying he was going to have to put his bike in the shop, and I kept saying just use Uber to get to work while it's in the shop. That's a lot cheaper than buying a vehicle that you're not going to be able to afford the insurance on when you're having issues just paying your half of the bills.

While I was sick, I kept throwing up the medication DCF had got me on, and my head started clearing up. And I realized, this guy is trying to scam me out of my savings. And he made me lose my kids, out of pure laziness. He could've cleared out that room while his daughter was there. He just didn't want to.

The problem is I spoke up about it instead of finding a way to quietly take all my things and leave.

He exploded in my face, like some kind of wild animal. I ran into the bedroom, said it was over between us. At which point he started constantly barging in and out of the room without knocking, raging at me. I asked him to please knock at least. He got all huffy about that, moved all his things out of the room. But the rage continued... him threatening to kill me repeatedly... to the point I finally started locking the door, afraid to come out. He stayed home from work just to keep raging at me through the door, banging things around outside the room, etc.

There's some details in this I'm going to skip, like the landlord finding out about the holes, and him getting them patched up within an hour, when he couldn't do that for the entire 3 months we were living together.

And how he never wanted to sleep in bed with me, but with his daughter.

Anyhow, I finally ended up calling an Uber driver to come pick me up. I requested he come to the door and help me take whatever things I could get out. I packed all my other stuff up in the closet and garage, made it clear I would be back for it. He threatened the Uber driver, and God bless that driver for continuing to be a gentleman for me even though he was obviously scared.

So. Now he wouldn't let me come back to get the rest of my things. I was in a hotel room. I got an attorney. Instead of facing my attorney, he somehow got the landlord involved claiming I didn't pay rent for the past 3 months. So then I had to pay the attorney to fight with the landlord. And the landlord wouldn't sign the document stating that I could come get my things. Meanwhile, $400 a week in a hotel goes quick. I eventually ran out of the money to fight. Suddenly the landlord was willing to drop the issue. I was supposed to be allowed to come get my things. But when we showed up with the truck, he refused to come to the door. The cops actually suggested I break a window since I was still on the lease and he wasn't letting me out of it. But of course, that would have been more trouble, and I didn't want an eviction on my record.

I ended up having to move to another state with a friend just to afford to survive. Leaving everything behind.

I am so sorry that happened to you angel. Who raised these dudes?! I was raised better than that. I would never do aggressive things like that. My father was slightly passive aggressive towards my mom. I could never do things like that. My mom never re-married and now I can understand why!

 

[Joshua the Writer]

Wow. Just, just wow. What exactly made them think that locking a child in a small room with no windows would be a good idea?
I am so sorry you had to experience that.

I have no idea. Also, thank you.

 

[Mr Allen]

In June 1998, some idiot Manager from the Co Op told me to my face that I was "overqualified" and shop work was "beneath me", I wouldn't mind but I'd just left College from an NVQ Retail course and wanted to do shop work, after all Mum was a shop assistant most of her working life, and apparently my late Great Grandmother had a convenience store.

 

[china autie]

Ignore me. That is the worst. Along with bullying.

I know it happens to non-autistics too. It just seems that it was more intense for me.

Nope, didn't go to any high school reunions.