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    My light or as I like to call him. My William. He is someone who I never thought that I would find. Its hard for me because everyone is trying to keep us apart. How do I deal with that when I can feel it in my soul that he is right for me. They will never understand that when I find someone who can relate to my fears that that is something very special to me. I just wish that they would let me be happy and be with the one who makes me feel whole again. 

  1. so I finally decided that I wanted to go see my dad in jail after the fact that he R me. I printed out the application to submit to be able to visit him. now I just have to mail it off. I'm not sure if I want to sill send it off or not but I did fill out the papers. I swear I feel like they want to know everything about you. I think they even do a background check to before your approved. I don't know how I feel about going through all this bs just to go visit the man that ruined my life in more then one way. I'm hoping that it will be healing in some sort o way or maybe itll mess up my head even more then what it already is. but ig there is only one way to find out and it is to go see him and see what happens.

  2. Today is a much better day than yesterday. Mentally and emotionally I am allowing myself to be distanced from everyone especially my fiancee and zoning in on schoolwork so there arent any questions. Health wise I feel pretty good, good enough to clean and make burritos for dinner tonight. I realize that I DO have options; I could appeal to my dad and ask to come stay with him in AZ for a little while, there are homeless shelters and rent assistance etc, and I have a couple friends who would let me couch surf for a bit if I needed it. It helps to have options. I dont feel so trapped anymore. If I stay I will just distance myself from him to protect myself. I wont let him hurt me.

    I know that no matter what happens I will make things work because I am a survivor, a fighter. I have survived more than I should have and if I can do that I can do anything. I have to tell myself over and over that I can do this, that no matter what life throws at me I can get through it. I am dealing with a lot of things right now, but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. There is a reason I am here. I am not exactly sure what that is. I am reminded often how everything that I know is wrong. But thats ok. 

    My brain isnt functioning well right now. Im a little loopy. But i guess its all part of the process right? Gotta keep moving forward. Even if I dont know why yet. One foot in front of the other. Until my last breath.. 

  3. Not every post has to be about food or kids.  Okay, not MY kids, anyway. :) 

    So...ya remember my sister?  The one married to a jerk?  In previous blog entries, we referred to her as #1.  

    Well, that sister's water broke last night at around 8pm.  I was at Monday night bowling and heard from Oompa that she was meeting my sister and brother-in-law at the hospital.

    I stayed up all night long - I did trudge over to the bed around three-thirty this morning, but the anticipation of my niece's impending arrival effectively kept me from the deep sleep that renders me functional for the remainder of the day, so please forgive any run-on sentences or other grammatical errors.  I'm not all here today and I'm a bit zombie-ish, but still wanted to share with everyone some very wonderful news.

    My niece arrived this morning at 6:44am after 10 hours of waiting and countless texts between Oompa and I.  Oompa was there before and during the birth and for the cutting of the cord.  My brother-in-law doesn't do well in hospital rooms, so my mother was, for the second time, able to witness the birth of her fifth grandchild.  

    Both my sister and the baby are doing just fine.  Brother-in-law also doing fine.  

    I took a nap as soon as the first picture came through.  She's adorable.  Full head of hair.  Big, round, alert eyes.  Teeny-tiny little fingers.  Swaddled in the new-baby blanket that every single hospital in the United States has a patent on.  And the little pink hat they put on her head to keep her warm. Those widdle, teensy toes, too!  

    My uterus is tingling, guys.  Oh, my God.

    Not too much, though.  It'll pass.  I just SO miss when mine were that small.  The thought of nibbling on their toes NOW, at their ages, truly sickens me and simply wouldn't be right.  LOL.

    I'll just enjoy being an Aunt. :)  If we're counting my Godchild, we'll say I've now got three beautiful nieces and my one nephew.  All are happy, in good health and I couldn't ask for more.  

    I am very, very blessed, indeed. :)

    - Capulet

     

     

     

     

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    If someone blames survivors or tell them  "it couldn´t not that bad"  I pray for him to become scilent, think it over and thank GOD for not being able to understand them.S.A.I. Benutzerbild.jpg.

  4. Chloe_bee
    Latest Entry

    When I was 19 I joined my family on their summer holiday. I was a student and skint and couldn’t afford to go away with friends. Neither could my friend Kayleigh; so she came on holiday with us.

    kayleigh liked to party - me not so much but it was Kayleigh’s holiday too so one night, towards the end of our holiday, we went along to the neighbouring town to go out dancing.

    We had a lovely Chinese meal, polished off a bottle of wine and then went for a drink. The pubs stared closing so we got directions and a taxi to the club. It was upstairs via a lift. It was quiet when we got there but got busy quickly. Kayleigh spoke the local language and soon these two guys were buying us drinks. Tall and Lanky spoke English and Kayleigh and him were enjoying excercising their linguistic abilities. His friend Short and Stocky didn’t speak English  and I didn’t speak the local language so we danced and muddled through with gestures. They bought us drinks all night and after a short time they suggested we go to another club better than this one... I was wary, but drunk and quickly talked into it by Kayleigh. 

    We then got in their car?!?! to drive there. We arrived, it had heavy big curtains and was really busy. I danced with Short and Stocky a bit more but was starting to feel very drunk. Drunker than I’d ever been. My peripheral vision had disapeared... it was looking through a tunnel and my legs were like jelly. The bar man handed me water, Short and Stocky took it but the bar man gave me another one. 

    We left, I thought we were going home. We went to the beach. Kayleigh disappeared with Tall and Lanky. It was just me and Sort and Stalky. He walked, I stumbled along through the sun beds for a bit and sat down on a pair; either side of the umbrella. 

    I don’t remember exactly what happened next but he was on my sunbed. Then he was on top of me. Then he was inside me. 

    I shouted for Kayleigh, I cried, I tried to push him off. It was as though I weren’t there... he said nothing. His eyes glazed over.. Some kids further along the beach mimicked my shouts back at me. I gave up. I stopped fighting, I stopped crying. I just lay there and let him. 

    When end he was done, he moved back to the other sunbed, reclining on his back. I tried to run away. I tripped and fell face first into the sand. It was so cold - I remember feeling incredibly shocked by that. It sort of jolted me to my senses. I had no idea where we were, no money - although in retrospect I’m not sure where it had all gone. I had no viable choices. 

    Kayleigh arrived back with Tall and Lanky, laughing and joking. I got in the car with them. 

    We didn’t go home, again we stopped at another beach... quieter and closer to where we were staying. I recognised it. I could have run away, but I couldn’t really walk unaided, I could have tried though. Instead I got on a sunbed and let him do what he wanted... I told myself I wanted it too, he wasn’t making these choices for me, it wasn't rape because I’d decided not to run, not to fight and to let him. I was wrong. He raped me again; this time he really went for it... the bruises lasted for weeks. 

    Eventually Kayleigh and Tall and Lanky returned. They drove us to our apartment. Kayleigh’s normally terrible sense of direction had disapeared. 

    I got out of the car and Kayleigh followed. 

    Back in our room she said “I heard you shouting” and asked if I’d had a good night. I said yes and got into bed, one though dominated my mind.

    They knew where we were staying - I was terrified. 

  5. Leia Skywalker
    Latest Entry

    Things are starting to link up in my mind, behaviors and feelings that I have make sense. Why I do things and why I don't do things.

    Every time I come home I lock every door, even when a family member is right behind me.

    I never open my door.

    I always carry a pen in my hand.

    I never look people in the eye when walking.

    Cause I am scared.

    I know he can't hurt me, but I can't stop thinking about it. Its why I want so desperately to leave town.

    Its why I don't feel safe, not at home, work or school. Only in my car. The one place he never touched.

    I don't know how to really gest rid of these feelings and fears, I don't know if you can. Maybe it will help to leave, but will it help even then? I don't know. I never know, even when I think I do .

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    So I was raped a few months ago. At first, I guess I disassociated a bit, but now I'm fine. How is that possible? You guys have all these forums about PTSD, depression, DID, anxiety, and so much more. Why don't I feel any of this? I don't freak out a lot, sometimes I do but sometimes it's normal right?, I don't hate myself or think I'm worthless. The only things I guess might be related would be spending more time with myself than I used to but I still hang out with friends, even party, though they are very small parties. And I can't seem to remember a lot but I'm not sure if that's related. 

    I started seeing someone because I was concerned I couldn't have relationships because I don't feel. That was about a month ago. Now I have a bf and it seems fine. Sex is weird but not really weirder than at any other time. At first, I disassociated during it but now it's fine. I have to see her again today and don't even know what to say. I wasn't supposed to get a bf and I was supposed to have sex but I mostly trust the kid and he's grown on me. She also wanted me to join a support group, which is why I'm here in the first place, but I don't think I belong here. 

  6. AllyHatter
    Latest Entry

    So I thought things with my family were getting better. Then suddenly I realized it would never change. It never had. I was always the black sheep. I've been called a liar, a cheat, a thief, a fat w**re. All of the above. Yesterday I was playing catch with my siblings, whom I don't speak to often, the ball was light up blue and red so I said it looks like cop lights...they said it was something I must be familiar with. Implied I was some kind of criminal. My mother found out I was being pegged as a prostitute in high school so she told me if i stopped wearing those shorts I might not be seen as such a w**re. I told her I was comfortable with my body and had even been hit on like twice in one day...my mother told me it was because they saw me as easy because of my weight. 

    Well I'm not fat. I'm 160 pounds of pure gorgeous. I'm not a w**re. I'm a girl who has DD boobs that can't be hid behind any shirt and a pretty face that some people notice. I'm not a felon. I like tattoos and heavy metal music and I shaved half my head. But you wanna know why I don't believe those statements about me anymore? Because I had to hear it from about 100 people, more then a hundred times and to be frank, I still believe my mother. But I also know that a shit ton of people don't. Those people have only lifted me up while my mother has only put me down. 

    I don't care what she says. I care that their are people who love me. For my smile, my laugh, my jokes, my stories, my shyness, my intelligence, my moxy. And that's enough for me.Snapchat-878631475.jpg

  7. Justified. It's the word that came forth from my pen as I journaled about the Matt Lauer deal. 

     

    Most women have a story. I have mine. Like Matt, he was well liked and fun loving. Along with that, there was a facet of him that was so not okay. 

     

    I am grateful there is more exposure. We've worked through this in my own Catholic Church. 

     

    Expose it. Name it. Claim it. Fix it. Heal it. Unfortunately for the victims, healing continues for a lifetime. Certainly with help, the pain and fear can lessen significantly. It remains, though, a fact of their life history.  The perpetrators need healing, too. Our culture needs healing. 

     

    Let's talk about “locker room talk.”  It's dismissed as no big deal. Honestly, in college, I become desensitized to it. Didn't think much about it. Just sorta played along, laughed it off. It needs to stop. I need the honorable man in the room to say, “Hey guys, this isn't okay.  See ya.”  And if a woman is present, give some gesture of support and protection. 

     

    The dignity of women. The dignity of men. The dignity of the human person. We're better than this.  We were designed to be better than this.  Justice, as a virtue, is a quality or habit which perfects the will and inclines it to render to each and all what belongs to them.  For the purpose of this conversation - Dignity. 

     

    So while these are sad times, they are also liberating. There is hope. We can do this, but not alone. We need to turn to our brothers and sisters for help - those that are close to us that love us and support us and professionals that are compassionate and trained to heal. 

     

    Ultimately, God is our healer and comforter. Let's get to know him - as a culture - as individuals. He is pure Love. Love itself. Love is the antidote to this. 

     

    “...it does not not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things…” (1 Corinthians 13: 6-7)

     

    December 1, 2017

     
  8. I've started college for the first time.  There are many things that I am enjoying and am excited about.  I am starting to get to know some of my classmates and am hoping to form some new friendships.  I love the class I am in, English Composition 110.  This is the only class I am taking this semester.  I was advised to do this to help ease into college life.  I think it was a good choice. 

    But then I tried eating in the cafeteria a couple of times.  I felt like I did when I was a kid and moving around and having to change schools in the middle of the school year. That being the new girl with no friends, trying to find where she fit in.  

    It's a  large room full of people, none of whom I know.  I look around trying to find a place to sit.  Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of empty seats, even whole tables where no one is sitting.  That isn't the problem.  It's that I don't have a friend to sit with, to talk over how the day is going, what classes we like, what teachers we like.  

    I pick a seat and start to eat.  And I find myself retreating into my shell.  I literally start to hunch over a bit, keeping my eyes on my food, rarely looking up.  It's like I erect a shield around me to hide.  

    I don't like this feeling.  I want to feel confident.  I want to be a part of a group, not off by myself feeling like an intruder or worst, an outcast.  

    I read a verse from Proverbs the other day about one that has friends must first be friendly.  That means I need to sometimes be the initiator in making new friends.  I feel I am doing ok with that everywhere else on the campus.  There's just something about the cafeteria room that is intimidating to me.  I have to believe that this is just a phase that will soon pass.  That soon I will know enough people that I can sit with someone and have an enjoyable meal together.

    But for now if you are looking for me during lunch, I'll probably be hiding in my shell.  It's safe in there.

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    ***** Trigger Warning*** 

    I don't know how I feel today. Sorta numb, like a numb pain gnawing at me. If that makes any sense. I think I was r*ped a few weeks ago. I'm not sure. I begged him to stop but he didn't. I guess the fact that he had just squeezed my neck until I passed out meant nothing. I saw a light, thought I was going to die... And for some twisted reason that made me happy. I was smiling as my body came in contact with the bed. I was happy because I thought it was over. I feel alone. There's nobody I can tell. I'm scared they won't believe me. I'm scared that they'll blame me and say that I wanted it because I invited him over to talk at night. That it was my fault for trusting a guy to be alone with me at night despite knowing how guys can be. I'm pushing people away, because I have this on my chest and I can't tell them. To date, this has been the second worst holiday season ever. I almost made it to a year with out cutting, but a I failed. The next night, I invited him over to ask him what happened. I wanted him to tell me what he did to me. I needed him to say that it was rape so I'd know for certain that that was what it was.He didn't even mention it. He talked about the choking and stuff, but nothing about putting himself inside me despite me pleading with him not to and pushing him away. There are so many thoughts in my head but I don't know what else to add. I guess this is the end. 

  9. Dan

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    Finally let it out, called the police on my parent who abused me, raped me multiple times from when I was 4 -about 9 years old. Physical and psychological beatings from before then til I was 11 and taken from home by Childrens Aid. 

    I cannot even begin to explain how much of a weight was lifted when I called, it was like I didn't have to keep "their" secret anymore. It felt like I finally honoured my (raging broken)inner child who wanted to be free. Until I let it out I would rage and drink and cry all the time, depression permeated my existence. This was my brokenness wanting to be acknowledged, not being able to understand why I couldn't feel a part of a happy "normal" society. Always feeling like people were seeing through me, to "my" dirtiness. I would get drunk at night/evening and walk around looking at nice homes full of lights and families feeling like I could never be a part. Because whenever I was in this environment it made me so sqeamish I just wanted to run. 

    Thing is, when you feel this way, you can live far below a healthy lifestyle. Addictions, and self destruction were common ground. Ah well, that's my first kick at the can. Still wondering if I should follow through and press charges.

    This crazy parent of mine, used to tell me I couldn't talk to my Dad, I could only call him by his first name, if I didn't obey and called him "Dad" my brother and I would be beat badly when he left for another week or so for work. There's more, but I can't do more right now. 

  10. I have understood from a very early age that I am ugly externally. No one says it but there are the comments and comparisons that let you know you are not attractive or even cute. 

    I have always been the heaviest of my closest family and friends. As a child it amounted to being 1 clothes size bigger than those my age. But hearing other's comments I thought I was just the fattest thing ever. I recently looked at some old photos and thought I wasnt that large. I even looked normal. In the eyes of a child those words had me thinking I was the world's fattest kid. People always suggested what I shouldn't eat or drink so I 'didnt get bigger' or I 'wouldnt fit my new clothes'. That was quite defeating to be told I shouldnt have what everyone else had because I was fat. So I snuck them whenever I could. Sweets and food would disappear. I would sneak trash to the bottom of the can so no one would know. Every trip to the store brought a new stash of sweets. 

    Aside from being fat, there is the fact that I wasnt cute. At least not as cute as everyone else. I was the darkest in my family, I was fat, my face didnt scream pretty. My hair although thick and shoulder length much of my life was nappy. I was the girl that couldnt sweat because my natural afro hair would come through. Add that to the comparison to the other girls my age and I was settled on my ugly fatness. No boys approached me for me. They wanted to know about my cousins or sister or the girl in my class. 

    So when people say you have to love yourself I cant even imagine what that feels like or looks  like. I am still trying to like myself in pieces. I am still the 'fat girl'. I still am approached about everyone but myself. When I gain the strength to look in the mirror I see nothing attractive. As I have developed a lazy eye over the years, I see even more ugliness than before. I have attempted to find the nice things about me but that doesnt last long. The hair is still shoulder length but lack of taking care of myself has left it brittle and dry. The nose seems wider than I recall. My lips once thinner have become so full and dark that I try to sick them in to make them smaller. The eyes that I once admired are old and tired looking added to the one that is always looking left.

    Personality? I have none. I am not the one to go out and party. Friends? I have aquaitances. People I communicate with but we can go years without speaking. When we do, I have nothing to talk about. I wasnt a rebeling teenager nor did I have wild and crazy 20s. I have learned to joke about my deformities before other's can. It hurts less that way. Well, they cant see how much it hurts at least.

    So love myself?! 40 years and I am still trying to like parts of me. I am still trying to find something that I can appreciate about myself. Maybe that's why I didnt tell people about what happened. A part of me enjoyed the attention. Someone liked me. Someone didnt think I was fat or ugly. That actually sounds very sick when I think about it. 

    Anyway, in the continued effort to be more open and honest with myself and others, I put this here. It isnt to gain compliments. It is to acknowledge my feelings in a hope that one day I can express them in my day-to-day life. Hope that this is my path towards healing myself.

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    This is a letter for my future self whenever I am PTSDing hard and start blaming and getting angry at myself:

    It's not your fault that he texted you again out of the blue 

    It's not your fault that you went to his apartment to ask him to stop texting you 

    It's not your fault that you started to get intimate with him after he manipulated you saying that he "liked you and liked spending time with you" 

    It's not your fault that he was not listening to you when you verbally made it clear (with valid reasons) that you did not want to have sex

    It's not your fault that his roommates, in the living room, heard the two of you and started to cheer him on and yell out "take her virginity"

    It's not your fault that he felt pressured to impress his bros and continued to push you for sex

    It's not your fault that you were just in your underwear with him as you made it clear to him multiple times you didn't want sex

    It's not your fault that you were confused and not processing things fast enough, and that you were not able to simply get up and leave

    It's not your fault that he went around your underwear and went inside you for a bit until you pushed away

    It's not your fault that he repeatedly tried to slide his fingers down your underwear even though you fought it off every time

    It's not your fault that your mind decided to shut down because it was trying to protect you 

    It's not your fault that you cannot remember how the assault ended and you have no idea if he committed worse things, like, actually rape you

    It's not your fault that his degenerate drunk friends saw you as a piece of meat and encouraged him to rape you

    It's not your fault that he and his friends were trying to change your 'no' to a 'yes'

    It's not your fault that the toxic & boisterous side of frat-like culture fuels rape culture

    It's not your fault that you were not able to recognize for a long time that you had been nearly raped (maybe even actually raped)

    It's not your fault that you went to a small college and had to see him everywhere around campus (library, dining hall, classroom buildings etc.) after that night

    It's not your fault that you were subconsciously silenced when you heard victim blaming talks all around you saying things like 'these girls are lying and regretting their escapades'

    It's not your fault that you did not realize, at the time, what about him caused you to be so severely traumatized 

    It's not your fault that you reached out to him again because you were in so much confusion & pain that you had to look for 'closure'

    It's not your fault that he continued to play his manipulative games, played the carrot or stick approach and had you on his hook

    It's not your fault that you got infatuated with him, your sense of boundaries were lost and you let him repeatedly play with your emotions for a long time

    It's not your fault that his memories have been haunting you for over three years now

    It's not your fault that you have to battle almost everyday with minor/major episodes triggered by emotional & visual flashbacks 

    It's not your fault that you have to pretend to the outside world that you are fine and that nothing is wrong with you

    It's not your fault that he, along with his degenerate friends, broke your soul and made you feel like your worth was less than human

    It's not your fault that you just can't get over it

    None of this was your fault. You will get through this! Just meanwhile be gentle with yourself

  11. I was seven, it was my favorite time of the year, Christmas and we had spent three tense hours putting up the tree and it was finally time to put up the angel and my dad grabbed me, lifted me up and was leering at me, looking up my skirt, i felt the heat and shame as he took me down and my mother glared at me. The same Christmas, my dad and I somehow got in the bedroom and he wanted to TW anally rape me so he fingered me and ended up ripping me pretty bad so we ran to the grocery store for cream and when he got home, he put it on my wound and it stung like hell, then mom came home and yelled at me for rest of night  blood on the sheets caused by having constipation, so these are the triggers i have to fight, christmas trees and toppers and music and Theresa hates this time of year and wants out and i am fighting so hard to forget that Christmas when I was seven. Teleah

     

  12. Hello! I am new to this. I am seeking some help, love and support from people who have faced similar challenges like me. I think it will benefit me to know that I am not alone and what happened to me was not my fault. I think this open communication will help me better cope with fear and anxiety I live in because of what was done to me. I have the lingering fear of being raped and abused again even though i know it's paranoia I feel. I need guidance and help get more support to better understand and cope with what happened to me. I never feel normal anymore yet considering what I've been through it's normal for me to feel that way. If u have any knowledge that may help I am all ears! Along with support, advice, or encouragement anything beneficial would be nice!

  13. It's not your fault your friends left you. Its not your fault your brother became addicted to drugs or that your dog passed away. I know you hung out with those two girls because you so badly wanted to be them, to walk in their shoes, to be a real girl. Your worth isn't based on what she thinks of you. Her deciding to be friends with the bullies or let her brother hit you with a stick was not okay. It doesnt matter if they were only playing, those things hurt and she didn't seem to care. But trust me, you are a real girl deep down, and there is an amazing group of women friends waiting for you down the road.

  14. 127

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    Tree1
    Latest Entry

    I was almost raped again three nights ago. I went to a nearby park to take a walk and clear my head. However someone noticed I was alone and when I unlocked my car they got in with me. Fortunately for me the immediately tried to put their penis in my face where I promptly lost my patience and bit it. I think the only reason I haven't freaked out more about it is because an ex of mine came over and comforted me. And I was ok with that I missed being friends with them. And a body that I had practically memorized gave me so much comfort when I was so close to the edge of giving up.

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    CivilCybil
    Latest Entry

    My dog:

    My dog’s name is Niko.  It wasn’t the name I picked out for him, but it was the name he was use to when I got ahold of him.  I was looking for one when a friend told me about him.  She said he was real sweet and smart, but I was a bit leary because of his breed; pit bull.  She kept telling me that the owner was threatening to take him to the pound because nobody wanted a pit bull that she could trust to take care of him the way he deserved.  So, I agreed to at least to take a look at him. The day I met him, and the day he waltzed into my home, was the day he stole my heart.  He has this great big head with the most soulful face I have ever seen. 

    I started training him when I broke my leg. I had time to kill and was a bit immobile for some time.  Now he knows about 30 commands and has bonded to me quite well.  He knows when I am sad or sick and need a snuggle buddy.  While talking to my doctor one day about my dog, he wrote me a prescription for him.  He said it seemed to do me a lot of good to have a focus when I’m out and about.  I heard that people had dogs for PTSD, but it had never occurred to me how they worked.  It seemed that I had trained the perfect dog.

    Talking to other PTSD’s, I found out that I had trained my dog the way their dogs were trained professionally.  Basically, he occupies my mind.  I am too busy controlling him in public to really be concerned about other people around me.  And, I feel safe… because after all he is a pit bull and doesn’t appreciate people yelling at me or being aggressive toward me.  Those that have dogs trained for this purpose have said the same thing, but most were trained professionally.

    Does anyone else here have a prescription for their dog?  I know that I can get a service dog certification for him.  But most sights for such a thing are pay for’s and not really legitimate certifications.  I looked up the national registry, and I could probably get him certified by sending a video of how he reacts to me, and how I react to him, and how well behaved he is.  One day, I’d like to be able to train him in grocery stores, and on the bus, and such, just so I can have him on adventures when I don’t feel as secure as I should be.  Anyone else done this?  Anyone even considered this as an option?

  15. Jzel

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    Jen G
    Latest Entry

    I am really struggling today. I have contemplated why I am even here. I have nothing to offer anybody. I'm scared all the time. I'm so lonely but I can't leave my house. I miss the person that I used to be even though that person was a fake. A fake smile, a fake "I'm ok". At least I was able to be out in the world. But pretending got too hard and now here I am. Alone and tired of trying. I feel like giving up.

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    I don't remember it.

    I just remember the before and the after. 

    I remember it like poetry.

     

    So, here it goes:

    I woke up one morning,

    drowning in blue.

    That morning,

    My walls were torn,

    And 

    I watched the world float by

    like a boat on the water.

    It was the moment before morning

    right before the sun breaks through,

    and the world begins. 

    I remembered it for the first time in a therapist office. The memory never addresses what happened that first time. I don't think I was there. I remember laying there in my bed, staring up at the world. Staring at the beauty of the blue splashed across my walls and drowning my whole world in it. I remember afterward. Crying. Stumbling. Reaching into my dresser. I put on a shirt. Buttoned it wrong. Threw on some pants. I remember crying at school. It was picture day. I wore the wrong outfit.

    I grew nauseous in that therapist's office. 

  16. Trigger. Contains reference to sex (but only in a positive way).
     
    Looking back I was in so much pain. I could hold it together for only a few hours each day before breaking down. And nothing I could do, nothing could make me better. I stayed awake for hours because I was too scared to sleep. But then after sleep was like "waking from Nightmares only to realise the real world is no better." Thanks to Susanne Collins for that Phrase.
     
    Day after day I fell apart. I didn't know what had happened and I still couldn't comprehend the evil he had done. His words didn't yet feel poisonous and his lies were still truth to me. I latched onto one of his Phrases: "survive in the lifeboat". Somehow I found a way; I found my own lifeboat. I dismantled myself and packaged the pieces; I packed them into little boxes all neatly stowed under the seats of my lifeboat.  This felt peaceful.
     
    After doing this I no-longer felt like I was seeing the world through my own eyes. I experienced the world through recent memories, but always stayed detached in my own separate world. I regret this now, but then, did I really have a choice? The real world was pain. When friends tried to make me engage with the world it felt like they were attacking me, making me hurt.  Anything and anyone who dragged me back into the world became an enemy.  I grew distant from my parents and family.  I made friends with those who were just as distant as I was.
     
    This got me through life in a way. I scraped through university but even then fell apart at the end when, having found a girl who loved me, I began to be sucked out of my dream land and back to the real world. I fell apart again and nearly failed my degree. That felt important so I went back to my own world, let the relationship fall apart, and completed my degree.
     
    So here I am; It's now fifteen years later and I'm looking back. A few years ago my dream world fell apart.  The real world broke through and the dream was gone for good. I've spent nearly two years unpacking "boxes" and piecing everything back together. Times when I meet old friends from that time are strange. Pieces-of-me still think I only saw these friends six months ago. How do I explain how important they had been to me?  They were important at the time. And how do I explain why I'm only just feeling this now?
     
    I'm now in a relationship. No wait. I'm now engaged to be married in a few months. I've had sex with my fiancé. And in the weeks just gone I've had sex while still completely grounded.  That is, the last part of me is now restored.  I'm whole.  Completely whole.  In counselling yesterday I realised this is the first time for me to be totally grounded while being sexually active since right before the abuse. I remember now just how powerful that had been with V. Every sound, sent and touch connected right to my consciousness. Nothing to be afraid of and nothing to hurt me.
     
    I loved V more than I can put into words. Those times with her were special to me. Nothing that happens now will ever overwrite that. And now my life can finally be fulfilled in that way with (and more) with someone I love as much and much more. This is where I finally can leave the memory of V behind. In that room, and in those happy memories. I hope V has found piece as I have.
     
    And J. I love you. I can't tell you how happy you have made me. I can't put into words how excited I am to be your husband.
  17. nomadlady1
    Latest Entry

    The thoughts and feelings that I need to separate from myself. The thoughts of failure which stem mainly from the trauma. The trauma that I continue to overlook. 

    My name is Chloe Colaianni and when I was six years old I was almost raped by my neighbor. The experience has put me through hurdles, and my biggest hurdle right now is the anxiety I face. The anxiety is a huge part of me defeating this. The anxiety is a small little part of me that I need to wrap in a ball and throw away. Like my T said, I can regard the anxiety as a movie. Anytime I feel self doubt, take a breath and say out loud, Chloe, this is not you this is the anxiety. You do not have to nitpick at everything and overanalyze all to the point where you're making up scenarios in your head.

     

    I accept myself, I accept that I was molested...And now I have to embrace the strong, woman that I am. But that starts with not fearing this anxiety. Not giving it power over me. Not gibing my mind power. Listening to my heart

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    I feel like a there is an internal timer counting down until I snap. Every day gets worse and worse and I'm terrified that I'm going to snap. I have these episodes of overwhelming anger and it's getting more difficult to hold it in. I can barely sleep and I have absolutely no motivation to do anything. I can't remember when exactly these episodes started happening, but they used to be so rare even up to a year ago. Now they are happening everyday. I don't know how to deal with this. My dad also doesn't help. He is a huge bully and likes to pick on my siblings and me. Especially when we are at our most vulnerable. This has been happening all our lives so I'm used to it, but with my anger issues, it's starting to get to me.

    I want to throw things. I want to break things. I've already cracked the granite counter with a large knife a few weeks ago because I saw red and lost control. That's exactly it: I see red, lose control, and then I go into almost like a trance, and come back to reality. I can't do this anymore. I need help.... 

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