5/31/2026 11:10
TW: suicidal ideation, childhood abuse.
I had to be quiet in my home growing up. I didn't feel as though I was allowed to be out of my room. Anytime I stepped out of my bedroom to do anything I was being ridiculed or yelled at, or someone was shoving something in my face about my body, or touching me in inappropriate ways.
The cops were called to my house multiple times growing up, DHS came, I only remember the cops coming once. This was because of my brother.
This is what I wrote, a few years ago, about the time I remember the cops coming:
I remember everything about the day that my brother was taken to jail - I don’t remember every detail, but I remember the big parts. We came home from school and he was already in a bad mood about something that happened at school. My egg donor was outside watering the flowers, she was about to make dinner. My brother started rifling in the fridge for something to eat, I was sitting in the living room right beside the fridge and I told him that she was going to start making dinner soon and to not get anything. He blew up yelling at me, and threw a kleenex box at me, hitting me with it. I somehow got to her outside and screamed at her to come inside. There was a gap that her and my brother were just screaming at each other. When my dad got home he came inside, my brother had broken one of the heavy duty wooden bar stools and had a board, he started swinging it at him to hit him in the stomach. My dad had hernias and if he got hit in the stomach at all then he could have died, my brother knew that and was trying to hit him anyways. We somehow got him outside where he then picked up a small circular grill and was trying to break the door down with it. The cops took forever to get there and I called my boyfriend at the time (my brothers friend) and let him know what happened. My brother was sitting outside my window after cooling down some and got mad all over again, hearing me talk about his actions. The cops showed up and there was one on the hood with a shotgun, waiting to shoot if needed. He was taken to jail. He was in jail for just a month. The one time that I went to visit him he just glared at me the entire time. He didn’t remember what happened and told our egg donor that it was all her fault that he was in there, that he didn’t do anything.
Now, there are A LOT of gaps in this story. But the fear I felt? Still lives in my body. I still interpret other humans as something to be afraid of. PTSD has run rampant in my body so severely that I have been barely been able to breathe through it at times.
I had to be quiet. I had to act like I didn't exist. I was barely allowed to have friends at the house because we never knew how my brother would act, but also looking back I never knew how my parents would treat me. I asked someone a few months ago what her interpretation of my home life was growing up... and what she said was that my dad and brother were abusive. That's half the truth, yeah. My egg donor also was.
I was so afraid to be a human in my own home. This turned into suicide attempts that started when I was a freshman in high school. This turned into self harming that started when I was in middle school. My parents only ever got my brother help. My parents didn't try to get me help once, my brother was in and out of mental health institutions and I got... nothing. Well, I got ridicule for my body, I got touched, I was yelled at, and I was made to feel as though I wasn't important, I was reduced to a shell of a human being.
How the fuck is someone supposed to reconcile with this type of thing? How is someone supposed to just believe that humans are good after everything? Well... I do. I do believe humans are good, including them, they have good in them too. Do I want anything to do with my blood family that is still alive? No. What I want is to be left alone by them. Other humans? I am happy to continue searching for the good in them because there is so much good in this world. YOU have good in you, no matter what.
I am tired of being small.
I am tired of acting as though I don't exist.
I am tired of the trauma living in my body, so I will come here and I will write it out.
If you're reading this, I love you. I'm glad that you're here on Earth right now.
-Haley Huckabee
photos of me from that time in my life:
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