I know this will get buried but I've got a 2-for-1 deal for anyone who happens to read.

When I was about 11-12 (don't remember anymore) my brother technically molested me, and I ended up not being that traumatized about it, at least not consciously. It began with him masturbating around me at random times. He would say things like "I'm about to... do stuff... you should leave the room" But I was young and curious about that stuff, so I would stay and he would do his business. It escalated to one day where I wanted him to play a game with me and he said he would but he had to take care of his business first. So he laid on my bed and started jacking off. I just wanted him to play the Sims with me so I waited patiently. He said if I helped him he would finish quicker so we could play together. So I helped him (aka handjob). He said I could use my mouth if I wanted to.....I didn't. He finished and then left and didn't play the Sims with me. After that he stopped doing all of it. I imagine he realized it was wrong and pretended it never happened. I brought it up to him years later and asked if he remembered and he sheepishly said yeah. I asked if he ever thought about it, and he said no. And that was about as far as it got.

My second secret is that, around when I hit puberty i went through some personal shit (not pertaining to the first secret at all) that kind of made life super hard for a while. Simultaneously my mother was going through a psychotic episode which is a whole nother story and (we found out later) was due to being very anemic and in need of a blood transfusion. During this time she kind of ignored all the negative things about our homelife so she wouldn't be overwhelmed. One of the negative things being that my room was a complete and utter disaster. You've seen those tv shows about hoarders that have old trash and maggots and shit everywhere and you can't walk through the house without stepping in garbage? Yeah it was like that. I sat in a recliner in front of my computer all day with trash literally up to my calves. There were maggots in some of the dishes and mold in a lot of the corners of the room. I used to also just freely piss onto the recliner when I didn't feel like going to the bathroom, and then just sit in it. I would flip the cushion every now and again but it didn't really help much.

Years after this, my life isn't great but it isn't a horrible fucking shitshow as you would imagine. I've made a lot of personal strides to become better mentally, and its been a long road.