At T today we started by talking about Uni. My head was/is really only focussed on that because I start next week, and a number of things have thrown it somewhat in to disarray. One of the things is that it seems that most of my lectures are at the hospital, not the university itself. And I require transport supplied by DSA (the government) which a needs assessor has to do a quote for and apply for. So I needed to knoow well in advance that I was going to be at the hospital, not the universit
So at T today we talked about a few things. We revisited the bullies from the pub and how I'm dealing with that scenario. Which is basically to sit with other people. We then talked about a flashback I'd had this week. I'd been having a memory of the oral rape, and of gagging and not being able to breathe. We talked about my feelings during that moment, fear, disgust. Then the conversation turned to my feelings around touch and where the anxiety comes from. I identified that I think it st
Feel really deflated today. Don't know if that's T or if that's because my sister has said she may be moving back up North. I think it's a bad idea, but I don't think I'm going to talk her out of it. She has it set in her head that this friend of theirs is the miracle answer to their prayers when it comes to her daughters mental health problems, or at least she will help considerably. And I just don't think that's the case. I think they's both clutching on to 'the grass is greener on the ot
Today's T was really hard. I somehow managed to pluck up the courage to speak to her about my thoughts when I masterbate - that the things that arouse me are all violent / assaults. It made me want to throw up just talking about it. But she didn't judge me which was nice. She pointed out that almost all of my sexual experience has been from abusive situations - so this is my point of reference. This made me want to cry. I guess I've never really heard someone tell me that actually I've bee
I’ve done it again.
I hate that my brain likes to play games with me as if I were a child desperate for a game of Hide and Seek. The way my mind melts with my emotions the way a lit candle rids itself of wax that runs everywhere creating a mess contained only by the surface the candle is placed on. Sometimes my brain tells me things and I believe it because I have always been so naïve that even the whisper of ‘I love you’ is enough to take over my body and give the power to someone undeserv
As I get older to understand who I am, I find that I am way more complicated than I originally thought. OK, maybe not complicated but definitely more disfunctional than people give me credit for. Today's topic...expressing what I need.
I can't say that I have ever been told verballly that what I need is not that important. It is more that I have been made to feel that way. It wasn't said in words explicitly but in actions. When I didn't want to do something or see specific people, I was to
(My new experience and findings on trigger alarm. Inspired by "Carolyn Spring podcast #16 Trauma needs a solution")
To feel safe again within oneself, the solution is not to switch off the smoke alarm, but to synchronise the heart and mind, and update the whole alarm system, to the present moment. What I really mean here is to update the alarm system which was built during childhood, bring it to present, now as an adult. What should we do now, to ensure our safety and well being?
The
I put it in a glass with some water and I forgot about it. When I was about to throw it into my compost, this little thing surprises me. Wow! I said: look at the roots coming out, so beautiful! 😍 Left me wonders about life, vitality in nature.
Living a little more today, when my dead heart decided, to explore life. I starts to breathe again.
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It comes, as a frightening truth, about my mom. Truth that I denied but know since the beginning. She doesn't love me. I am just a trophy for her to put into show case. She isn't listening to me, she isn't care for me, she isn't going to do anything for me, not merely to take hold of me and say sorry for what I have been through. I gave up, and full stop. I'm done, pleading for
I hated rose, until I find myself to be a rose. Velvety red rose.
It was June this year that I decided to confront with my dad, about love and fear, about the abuse that none of us mentioned, that I endured and kept to myself for so long. I thought of death, if I'm going to die, then I wish to say what I wanted to say. I asked to meet him, but ends up writing email and sending recordings to him. It was a very very hard decision to make, but when it comes, it's like "I need to get this done
I know I am good at writing about my feelings. That’s always been the case with me. Talking about them – not so much, but writing about them always enables me to explore them further in depth. Lately, I’ve had a lot on my mind and plate. It shows at home the most, where I am constantly snapping - my daughter and I have been like snapping turtles lately, but we have gotten better at communicating as politely as possible whenever one of us is getting on the other's nerves. It shows at work - I
Today we talked about loads. First of all I asked her about her question last week re whether in my heart of hearts I really thought it wasn't concentual, because I was confused about why she'd asked the question and what her thoughts about the events were. But she said that she'd felt I was very much allowing other people's judgements to affect my views last week, and she just wanted me to get back to what I knew to be true. She did ask me why it was important that she believes me, and I cou
Today was incredibly hard, so much so I'm not even sure I want to type it out. But maybe it'll help me to do so. So we started off talking a bit about a dream I'd had about feelings relating to being bullied when I was young. Then we started talking about the police and the r*pe and how they had said they weren't taking it forward because though there were signs of rape, there were also signs of consenual sex (I believe they were refering to when I organismed and I pushed his head). But then
Today was kind of a slow session, but strangely it made me really tired, so I was really glad I only had 45 minutes to work this afternoon. We talked about a few things, about the guy who assaulted me on the tube when I was 16, that my mum basically didn't want to know when I tried telling her about it. We talked about my mum quite a lot actually, how she treated me and my sister differently, and whether she ever felt guilty for leaving us in the care of the uncle who abused us (though I don't
Hmm, today's the anniversary of the London bombings. Random thought that just popped into my head. At T today we talked about the shame I felt. This goes round and round in my head and I can't seem to shift it. I guess as my T said there's little point to it - it won't change anything, I can't go over and undo any of it. And it's not like he feels shame. So I feel shame because, well first I want to be clear that I had told him that I didn't want to have sex with him, and this was followed
Specified Memory: First memory of being sexually abused
Distress level: 8
Memory makes me feel like no one cares about me. Worst part was looking at brother for help. No one helped me. No one cares about me.
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Bilateral Eye Movement 1:
Brother putting a blanket over me and taking off my pants.
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Bilate
Today at T I was really sad about the stuff with my dad. It's hard to think about it sometimes. I find myself shutting down emotionally, going numb. But today I was crying. It's been a long time since I've cried. I'm so restricted/inhibited now. I keep everything in check. My dad didn't physically touch me - he just did stuff in front of me. But this is enough to have had a massive effect on me. It's made me think of men as disgusting vile creatures, and of very needy weak people that a
I've noticed I come here to vent most of the time, to speak the things I can't say out loud on a daily basis. Sure, I get some of It out on therapy but I can't go that often because of my income, so I end up coming back here.
It's not necesarily a bad thing, but I'm wondering If I can talk about other things? maybe keep things light once In a while. That might be a good change.
Had my second T session today. We talked about all the other stuff other than the r*pe. So the assault when I was 16, my dad touching himself in front of me, and being sexually abused as a very small child (which I don't remember - was only 3 and 3/4 when it came out) but that led to my mother being violent towards me (I was the one who spoke up and he ended up assaulting my mother for what turned out to be again - she'd been abused by him when she was a teenager herself, don't even ask how we
So I got tested positive for covid a week ago--( I don't have It anymore though) and things have been really difficult for me.
For context I was already feeling like I was In some sort of "lockdown" because I'd just quit my job plus my summer vacations had started, so all I've done Is stay at home.
I kinda forget every now and then, that when I lose a routine I get severely depressed. (Like yes I'm already deressed, but It comes In a bigger wave when I stop going out). It's generally h
At home I don't feel at one. Let's be fair, I never will If I haven't by now, but should I keep putting out fires?
I think I've reached a point where I don't know wether to choose to put out another fire or start to build myself a life, even if It's a slow one.
If I choose my dreams, It'll be slow and I'll still have to put up with poor living, doubting everyday If I can stand It anymore, not knowing If I'll eventually lose my mind because of It.
If I choose a home, I'll never hav
Earliest Memory: Walking on the concrete foundation for my future home and falling backwards. My mom coming to pick me up.
Age: 3-4
Distressing Level: 0
Theme: A push and pull between wanting a normal mother and wanting her out of my life.
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Bilateral Movement 1
Mom coming to pick me up. Everything was blurry because of my p
To anyone who needs to hear this…. ❤️
When we come face to face with trauma,
Knowing what to do doesn’t exist.
There are no answers as to why.
There is no instruction manual or guidance.
Some of us didn’t tell anyone.
Some of us did.
Some of us didn’t have a choice.
Some were brave right from the start.
Some of us took a while to get there.
For some, trauma is new.
For others, it is old but feels new.
For some, danger still exists.
But we all dealt with it
