My brother and his wife are child abusers of the kind that leave the scars on the inside, so calling CPS was always a dubious prospect since that can make the abuse worse. My dad used to work in corrections, and he's seen enough horror stories first-hand to know CPS is the last resort, as awful as that is. I was instructed to never escalate with my brother's family, ever, because we knew they'd use their daughter as a bargaining chip to make us comply. The point wasn't our own freedom, but instead to make sure we'd be able to watch over her and provide a safe place for her when we could. This meant my brother was glued to my side constantly and I could never defend myself against him, and it crushed my spirit. So much of the joy of my life got sapped, and nothing ever came to replace it. That would have been fine, but I didn't get much support from my parents after they became accustomed to handling the situation, and so I was left to languish while everyone else judged me harshly for the personal price I paid putting up with that monster for 16 years. When I couldn't stand the pressure and neglect anymore, my family imploded and it's been in tatters ever since.
It wasn't until my mom died that I finally had the space to explain any of this to my dad, and he's horrified at what happened to me right under his nose, and he never knew. I don't mean to badmouth my mom, but she had a way of letting practicality push everything to the brink because of how hard she and my dad had to work when they were young, and that made talking about the things that make life worth living, and why I couldn't do them, very difficult. There just wasn't enough of her left before the end for her to be able to help me with anything, and she needed just as much help holding everything together as I did.
One of the hardest lessons I've had to learn is that the shape of your body affects your mindset. If you feel embarassed about dancing and refuse to do it, there's a good chance it's because the composition of your body means you can't do it. There's very little sympathy for the kind of postural bindings that prolonged trauma can put on you, that make you so stiff you either can't do anything at all, or you do everything too hard, and without grace. 0 or 100, there is no middle ground when you're chased so far up the tree by a predator you can't fight. You can't afford to move without breaking your perch, so you need a damned good reason to move at all. When everything you do is premeditated, that looks so different than acting natural it turns you into a pariah. People become suspicious of you, even when you've done nothing wrong, and so when you do make a mistake your punishments are so much worse. It is a curse.
I'm getting better. Because of how much I've practiced premeditating my actions and considering everything around me as much as I can, just so I wouldn't hurt anyone or make anything worse, I've started to spot the subtle things in my environment that have an outsized effect on me, and I've been able to slough some of them off. I've taken charge of my body's composition, not through force, but by asking, and I've fixed a lot of my stubborn health issues. I was born with chronic migraines, for example, and I've had one or two every week my entire life except for this summer, where I had maybe one per month. I'm strong now, really strong, and I've been taking singing lessons. I feel like I'm approaching a place where I feel 16 again, as though it was all a bad dream and the price I paid wasn't damnation.
Psychedelics have played a very small part of my journey, and aren't a normal part of my life. Instead my interest is in cooking and proper nutrition, but you can't look into that too deeply without realizing that not that long ago the food we ate was psychedelic, comparable to microdosing, but that has gone away now that food seems to only exist to be efficient or to be sold. Finding ingredients good enough to make food truly sublime is difficult if you don't grow it yourself. For example, raw milk has IPA in it, which is an auxin that protects against alzheimers. Before the soil was so contaminated people got fulvic acids from the dirt on their vegetables. I could go on, but you get my point. My interest in psychedelia is actually nutritional, and recreative in the sense that you can use good nutrition to recompose, recreate, your body to heal it.
Because of my experiences with people who have no respect for boundaries I can misread friendliness for an attack, so I might not be the best fit here. I'm still learning how to be comfortable in my own skin again. I don't mind being told to leave. I respect boundaries.