What Is The Most Traumatic Thing That's Happened To You? (Ended)

my mother's suicide when i was 15

I was hit by a logging truck when I was around 3 or 4. The traumatic part was that my mother beat the s**t out of my sister for not watching me. SHE WAS ONLY 5 OR 6. It was my mothers job to watch me; not a 5 or 6 year old.

The most traumatic thing that happened to me was when my dad first sexually abused me when I was around 7 years old. The second most traumatic thing was that he continued to sexually, physically and mentally abuse me until he died 20 some years later (he would violently rape me when I was older). The third most traumatic thing was when I told my mom what was going on at an early age, she blamed me and then did nothing to stop him or leave him. She chose him over me.

When I was a kid, I accidentally shut myself in the trunk of the family car. I didn't know about escape latches, so I was in there for a couple of hours thinking I was going to die. Thankfully my brothers found me.

Being kidnapped by my dad and him taking me through the woods with a knife in his hand.

I went with the girlfriend of a coworker to his house. We went into the garage and found that the coworker had killed himself. It was pretty obvious that he was dead. His girlfriend was 8 months pregnant at the time. All I could think about was her and the baby. I performed CPR on his corpse until paramedics arrived because I was afraid for their health and too afraid to tell her that he was gone.

My trauma is somewhat different, because I didn't 'experience it' directly as it happened. I have a weird malformed face that developed like that before I was even born. It was always complex dealing with it. My teenage years were the hardest. You know what being a teenager is like—insecurity, the need to be accepted by peers, the urge to know and accept who I am. Now it's fine, I got to accept that it's a part of me. Though I still feel the echoes of it: self-confidence, self-image problems, etc.

when i was 4 my little sis was born but in the same month my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer a few months later she died if she lived one more month she would have been treated i guess it was more traumatic to grow p without her not when she died because the pain was always there when i saw other kids with there parents ( this caused me to attempt suicide 2 times)

I thought I had found love at last. Moved to a new city, uprooted my son, with new refound hope. Everything was great, for a couple of months. Then his true colors came out.

I was abused in every which way possible, physically, emotionally, verbally - on a daily basis. He would always attack me from behind, sending me flying unto the floor, tables, the couch, the nightstands - face first. I never saw it coming. Once he strangled me to the point I thought "this is how I die."; my ears started making the sound of a machine gun, and then I passed out for 3 hours.

I finally left when he hit me in front of two of his boys and my son. 11 months later. All I wanted was to love him, but some people can't be loved because they have been unable to face, confront, heal and let go of past hurt.

I died once. I was going through a tough spell (girlfriend left me, lost my career, dogs both died etc.) with my mental health and decided to take a load of sleeping pills. I woke up in the ACU and honestly couldn't say that I was happy to have failed. I'm still in therapy years later. It's a living nightmare.

Alright. I'm sorry if this is long, but I just had to tell it. So last year there was a fire in my neighbor's house (no one died, btw). I couldn't sleep, so I stayed up. Big mistake. I remember my parents stepping outside on the porch. When they came back in, my mom was shouting "Let me go!" and "Stop it!" There was a sound of what I thought was a glass breaking, and my mom yelled in pain. I was so scared. I heard the door open again, then a car door open and shut again. It didn't drive away though. I heard the sound of my dog Peppa running outside, and my other dog Nilly whining in her crate. I made up my mind to go get Peppa, in case she annoyed the firefighters or police and they shot her. I put on shoes and walked out into the hall then living room, and what I saw I will never ever forget. There were large drops of blood everywhere on the floor. It trailed outside, too. I walked out on the porch and called Peppa. She did come, but I saw my dad sitting in the driver's seat of my mom's car, wearing sunglasses. I walked back inside, in fear of him seeing me. I waited in my room, and packed a small bag of stuff in case police took me somewhere to decide custody arrangements or something. I waited. And waited. Until about 11:30 pm. I decided that if my grandmother, who lived only a few minutes away, didn't come by midnight, I would run downstairs and forcibly take my uncle's phone if I had to. Seems dumb to me now, how I didn't even think about waking him up. Then, I heard the front door open yet again. My grandma came into the hall and walked over to my room. She told me we were leaving and going to her house. She told me to pack a few books in case I couldn't get to sleep later, then went to go wake up my brother, who somehow slept through it all. When we left, my grandma steered us away from the car. My dad, though, asked me if I was still going to be a giraffe in a Lion King play. My grandma told him no, obviously not, and a police came over and asked if she was Shireen. She said yes, and the officer said that they did a breath test on my dad and it came up negative. He acted of his own free will, free of alcohol (he was an alcohol abuser) or drugs. The next day, I learned that my mom had gotten out of the hospital, so my grandma took us back to my house. Turns out my mom had found 5 dating apps on his phone, and she confronted him about it. He got mad, and head-butted her in the face. He broke 3 bones: two in the nose, and one under her eye. I will never forget this, and after almost a full year I still get scared thinking about it. I'm ever so grateful that my grandma came. And, I'm even thankful for the fire. Not so much the fire, but the fact that the firemen and police were parked in front of our house. My mom was able to run into their arms and was carried away in an ambulance. I still don't know what was scarier: the fact that my dad was always kind and gentle, the fact that he was acting of his own free will, the sight of the blood, or the fact that I could hear everything. I haven't told any of my friends what had happened, or told my mom or dad that I could hear all of their fights. I only have told my grandma. And I know that my mom is thankful for her sister, who helped her while she was recovering. I always get on the verge of tears thinking about that night, and the weeks of my mom crying. Again, I'm so sorry that this was a long post.

my sister left me at the age of 7 its been 4 years since a have seen her
P.S. im 12 we last met at my sisters wedding

Really? In one week... my 26 year old son died, my car was repossessed. I was labeled disabled, and tried to die. I hate June, I hate life, i wish I could go 'home' too.

I watched my mother die in front of my eyes, her terrified and screaming in pain.

When I was 17 I was thrown into the gang section of the Washington, DC Juvenile Detention Facility to, in the words of the arresting officer, "teach me a lesson." White boy from a rural part of NJ and 35 black kids. I was beaten and raped repeatedly. But even then I understood the nature of institutionalized racism and knew that I represented every bad thing that had ever happened to them and so I was able to disconnect from it and endure. My only fear was that I would be permanently injured by their kicking my back and kidneys. Writing this has made my kidneys ache.

I lost my husband (and later on had to leave behind our home, our friends, our plans and dreams together) to a serious mental illness after he stopped taking his meds correctly. In a prolonged and agonizing period, my once sensitive, subdued spouse morphed into a scary, sketchy, sinister stranger. He was unstable and delusional and dangerous to my two very young children and I. We endured some whacky sh*# to say the least, and it was as sorrowful as it was scary... I lost my best friend and my partner, a complex but ultimately cursed, consumed, CRAZY man. We did make it truth and my amazing kiddos are (presumably) normal teenagers, cool people who I am proud of and genuinely like and admire (and who are certainly not without their own traumatic scars from early childhood incidents and feelings of frustration and fear.). We survived that, together, the Three of Us, and we know that that is something that binds us together in foo many unspoken ways; yet we are still navigating and surviving it the periodic fallout, from their dad’s illness (he’s not in the picture much any more but seems to find ways to pop into our lives like a nail bomb at a parade); divorce was final years ago and I’m just glad to be on the other side of that huge mountain of grief, exasperation, hopelessness, LOSS... I’m just grateful it is in the past. I feel nauseated with dread at the memory.

When I was 12 my family when camping, as we did every summer. Parents in one tent, my sister and I in the other.

It got to about 11pm and then a tornado decided to wander over the campsite.

I'm now 32 and I still have nightmares about it.

Well not so much traumatic but anyways... I was about 8 years old and I had to go to the hospital because I was showing all of the symptoms of Type 1 Diabetes. My mom brought me to the hospital, and the whole way there she ranted about how "I didn't have Diabetes, I was just thirsty", and so on. She promised me before we went in to the hospital she would buy me an ice cream and that we would celebrate me not having diabetes after we left. Long story short... I had Type 1 Diabetes. My mom couldn't stop apologizing, and I wasn't allowed to have any ice cream. Instead, I have to stick myself with a needle six times a day. I'm 11 now, and my mom and I always laugh at the incident now, but as an 8 year-old, I was crushed.

well to me this wasn't traumatic, but my friends told me they were all terrified and it looked really scary.
So when I was younger I was at summer camp and we were out on a motor boat. We were doing an activity called shark bait, if any of you know what that's called, where you jump off the motor boat and grab onto a rope that's tied to the back of the boat. and I jumped wrong and couldn't get to the surface and the boat went over me. I wasn't hurt so don't worry.
Yep.

Getting sexually abused by my brother's best friend 8 years ago (they're still best friends).