Never shared this with anyone, not in this much detail, so please bear with me.
I have had OCD as long as I can remember, a few years old child, things like shoes and clothing having to lay on me just right, or worrying my toys are hurt and sad if they aren't positioned just right. Parents were abusive throughout my childhood, father was frequently violent, hands, cables and all, mother was more about the emotional abuse, controlling me in odd ways, like cutting my hair short, demanding she sees my breasts before she decides I need my first bra, gas lighting, she always seemed mentally weird to me, they liked to drink and we weren't exactly well off. I have a memory of my father bathing me at a few years old and cleaning me with his hands, but way more thoroughly than a parent should if you know what I mean, and at even at the time I felt this was not quite right. Then him being drunk when I was in my early teens and snogging my nose, whether he couldn't locate my mouth or meant to do that I'm not sure, my mother did nothing. So I suppose that would amount to being sexually abused as well, though I think the beatings and emotional abuse affected me more and turned me into a weird, shy, never smiling anxious child.
I have handled my OCD okayish until I had my oldest daughter at 18, naturally living at my parents, which was the biggest mistake of my life, as they turned on my child. Not having own money or the chance to move out (lived in a poorer country before moving to UK at 19) or the confidence to act in my best interest after years of abuse, I went back to school for the final year of my studies as my mother decided she'll look after my baby. My parents being the weird creatures they are, where obsessed with my baby in general, keeping me away at most times, with her being naked, obsessed with watching me breastfeed and so on. And the worst thing that has triggered my OCD to what it is today, at 30, they were obsessed with her belly button and nipples. On several occasions, they stroked/tickled her in those places, on another occasion my mother spread my baby's bottom to "check her anus", on another my father kissed her on the nipple. She seemed abusive in other ways too, like putting my baby's hand under hot water tap "to wash them" till my baby reacted, force feeding her with bottle when she was screaming with colic and so on. And every time, I froze. I did not protect my child from their abuse when it was happening and I hate myself. I can't stop picturing it, I wake up at night picturing it, I spend days picturing it. All my rituals since have been about protecting my kids.
My mother moved to the UK when i was 19 and I moved with her, having no chance of welfare or a job that paid for childcare in my own country. She continued to be obsessed with my child, insisting on things like hand covering her in baby oil after bath till she was just over 2 years old, which is when I managed to escape and rent my own place. I had another daughter when my eldest was 6.
Mother continued to haunt me for child contact for the few years following me moving out, when I have finally found the strength in myself to cut contact around 4-5 years ago, then reinstate it for one meeting 3 years ago and cut it again since. I am terrified of her finding me.
I have cut contact with my father when I moved countries 11 years ago, which is also when my parents split, but continued in a weird sort of relationship up to the moment I last saw them.
I can't stop obsessing about what happened to my eldest. It's been bad, she knows what my mother did but it didn't stop her from being sad when i cut contact with her. She eventually stopped talking about her.
I hate myself for not running away as soon as I had my eldest daughter. I hate myself for not stopping my parents control my life and my baby at the time. I hate myself for not stopping contact sooner.
I have taken Fluoxetine last year for about 7 months to help, but the side effects have created a new level of anxiety, whilst not helping with the old.
I have thought about counselling, but I feel sick at the thought of talking aloud about what happened. At the same time, I feel i don't have the right to feel better, because what I allowed to happen to my child does not deserve forgiveness. So in a way, I don't want to feel better.
I know the therapy would be about facing my fears and acknowledging that they won't happen, but in my case, they already have happened plus I picturing the fear (to "neutralise" it) would be unbearable in the case of your child's sexual abuse.
I don't know what to do. It is overtaking my life. Additionally, I want to ensure my daughter doesn't end up with mental disorder of her own - either due to the abuse (which she says she does not remember) or witnessing my own OCD.
I have a wonderful partner of just over 2 years who is extremely understanding of my disorder, although I try and spare him the full details.
I would welcome your thoughts on my situation. Please be kind.