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  1. Good Morning, Good Yawning

    Hi, @WhatWeAreMeantToBe - Welcome to After Silence! First let me say your intro was super cute and fun - I love it! I'm so happy that you are so excited to be here! It truly is a wonderful community to be a part of and I've gained so much from this site. As far as your drawing, there is a forum on here made for you to share your art so that might be something cool for you to look into! And I will be sure to call you Alley You can absolutely wait to share your experiences when you're ready! That is entirely up to you. We are all here to support you when/if you decide to share, and all the time in between I hope you're liking it around here so far. If you have any questions, please let me know! I am happy to help. Sending happy thoughts, Poppy
  2. I'm Not Sharing My Pizza

    @moongoddess, I will definitely look into it! It seems like a good read. Thank you for the suggestion and for reading my post I truly appreciate it
  3. Hi

    Hello, @Via - Welcome to After Silence! You have found a great, safe space to talk as freely as you'd like When you're ready, feel free to share whatever is on your mind! I'm sure there are plenty of survivors here that will be able to relate to you and help share in your experience. If you need anything, please feel free to reach out to me! Wishing you all the best, Poppy
  4. It's Her Party, but I'll Cry if I Want To

    Safe hugs are always okay! Thank you, @AKB I really appreciate your response. I’m honestly sorry that you understand and can relate to this! It’s so painful. But I’m here to support you too if you need it
  5. Hi

    Hi, @kjhlhkjhj - Welcome to After Silence! I’m sorry you’re hurting right now. I understand how scary it is when you first join and you’re not sure how safe this is and if/when you should talk. But I want to assure you that all of the other forums that don’t say “PUBLIC” on them, are completely safe and only visible to registered survivors. You never have to post anything you’re uncomfortable posting including your name. You can be called whatever you’d like! I can see you’re both scared and nervous. I want you to take a deep breath - you’re okay. This is a safe space, I promise. If you need to talk, please feel free to message me. I’m always online and I’m here to support you. You are not alone. Sending safe hugs, Poppy
  6. Hi everyone :)

    Hi, @Turtle_Muffin - Welcome to After Silence! I know it can be a little daunting to join a site like this and to start posting, but I promise you've come to a very supportive place and no one here is going to judge or look down on you You've already done a great job introducing yourself! My T was also the one that recommended this site to me and I'm so glad she did. I have met so many wonderful people here! It's an amazing community to be a part of. If you need anything, please let me know! I'm here to help in any way I can Sending happy thoughts, Poppy
  7. I'm Not Sharing My Pizza

    This post has some strong references to ED behaviors. Please don't read ahead if you are not in the mind to do to. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. I stared at this blank page for HOURS last night trying to decide how to start this blog and honestly debating on if I even wanted to post it. Time was fleeting, and I was struggling. It seemed as though all of my efforts to try to collect my thoughts were in vain because simply put – this is hard to write about. I tried to find another topic to write about today – I really did. But there was nothing going on that was worthy and being written down and this has been pressing on the forefront of my mind the past several days. I guess that’s my mind’s way of saying it’s time to deal with this and get it out in the open. It’s a funny little thing called emotional abuse. I know I spoke about emotional abuse in my last blog, but I didn’t really delve into everything that goes on in my household that constitutes as emotional abuse. I talked about how I have dealt with emotional abuse from my mother, but not so much what came from my father. My mother had more of an emotional neglect sort of abuse. My father… well, I’ll tell you about his. I’d like to say I’m very resilient and that words don’t affect me, but I’d be lying. Words hurt me more than physical abuse ever has. It has taken me a very long time to call this emotional abuse. My T has tried to explain emotional abuse to me several times, but I always deny that that is, indeed, what this is. I guess part of me bringing this up this week is because I’m finally admitting to myself what this is. I’ve always had a fear of talking about this – especially here. It’s hard to look at my situation and believe it has the same damaging effects as some of the trauma that people here have gone through. I was told growing up that I wasn’t allowed to be sad or upset because my biological parents are married. Because for some reason, that meant my life was perfect. So how could I possibly call this abuse when my life was so perfect all the time??? I developed an eating disorder when I was 15 years old. I was formally diagnosed with bulimia when I was 19. Part of me wants to blame this on my father, but part of me knows that he may not be the sole cause for my eating disorder. I know that I have other issues that factor into this, but I can’t help but think he planted a seed somewhere along the way. My mother and father both exercise regularly and eat healthy. I don’t. Not as consistently as they do. So, for that, there’s always a bit of shame around me for being heavier than them and for eating more fast food than they do. And any time I eat out, I get an ear full about it. About how I need to stop doing it because I’m wasting money mostly, but there’s also the underlying reason of ‘because you’re fat’. My dad wasn’t always the fit man he is now though. My dad was a lot heavier at one point in his life. One day he buckled down to lose weight, and he did. And ever since then, it’s been a lecture to me about being fit. But not only does he “encourage” (I use that term loosely) me to live a healthier lifestyle, he also makes unnecessary comments that drive me to a state of starvation and purging. One of my favorites is when I’ve not eaten all day and it’s 4 o’clock on the afternoon. I wander into the kitchen looking for some sort of sack or meal and I get welcomed with a, “Hey, little piggy. Coming to belly up to the trough?” To which I respond with a polite ‘no,’ and walk away hungry. He uses that one a lot. There was a time not too long ago that I had dropped a lot of weight. It was the smallest I had been in YEARS. But I was hardly eating. I was on an exercise program, but I was never hungry and furthermore, I wanted to be small. It was easier to not eat. So I would come in from a workout and grab something small so my parents would see me eating. But then it became, “Are you just eating that now so you can go eat in your closet later?” followed by an eruption of laughter from both him, and my mother. That comment lead into several jokes about eating in secret and purging. They thought it was hilarious. They had no idea that I was already hardly ever keeping any food down. There are more, but I’m sure you get the idea. Anything about food results in me being called fat in some way, shape, or form, or it leads to a string of jokes about bulimia. I can’t eat a proper meal without being judged. But my father gets mad if I talk about being nervous to eat in front of people. How does he not know that HE instilled this fear in me? The other half of his “jokes” aren’t any better. They’re more about how I also wasn’t the smart kid. His favorite line used to be “you’re a fat, stupid, loser,” but he hasn’t said that one in a while. Sometimes he just calls me ‘stupid.’ There was one day I was laying in bed, had just woken up but had my bedroom door open. He walked into my bedroom called me a ‘piece of garbage’ and walked away. All I did was exist. I hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet. While I realize these are all minor instances, when it goes on for years, it’s hard to “brush it off” and move on. To know that my dad feels so ashamed of me for being overweight and to know he thinks so little of my self-worth that he could actually tell me I would never amount to anything, hurts. I was never physically abused by my father. He’s never laid a hand on me. But his words have hurt me. So, in closing, I guess I should say that I don’t forgive him. Not yet. I’m still trying to fix the pieces of what HE messed up. The parts of me that he shattered with his words and his shame. I am trying to learn that I’m still valuable in some way or that I have some worth and hopefully one of these days, I will see that. Until then, I’m going to eat my pizza, and I’m not sharing. Hope you’re all doing well and thank you for taking the time to read. Hopefully next week I’ll have something a bit more exciting to write about! Sending happy thoughts, Poppy
  8. Hello

    Hi, @redmess - Welcome to After Silence! I'm sorry for everything you've gone through, it sounds horrific. I'm hoping you will find some good support and healing here as you get to know everyone this is a wonderful community of people that understand all too well the struggles you may be facing. It's okay to speak out no matter how long it's been. We are still here for you! If you need anything, please don't hesitate to reach out! I'm always around. Warm and well wishes, Poppy
  9. Not a real newbie

    @vitamin - Welcome back! So good to meet you I hope you find the same help and comfort here that you used to! If you need anything, please let me know! Poppy
  10. It's Her Party, but I'll Cry if I Want To

    Wow, you really get me! I wish they had a card like that.. I would buy them in stock so I would have one for each year for her. Thank you for your support
  11. Hi everyone

    Hi, @Haribo2906, Welcome to After Silence! You've come to the right place to find support and speak out about what happened to you. There are lots of people here that have most likely been through something similar to you and are in different places in their healing journey. You can always find the specific forums that will help you to connect with survivors of similar circumstances. Maybe that can strike up a conversation and they can share what helped them with their triggers I hope you're liking it here at AS so far! If you have any questions, feel free to let me know! I'm always around! Sending happy thoughts, Poppy
  12. Hello

    Hi, @Connor - Welcome to After Silence! I am so very sorry for what happened to you. I want you to know that everyone here believes you and no one here will chalk it up to an overactive imagination. You have every right to feel however you need to feel about your trauma. I'm hoping as you get around the forums more, you will see how truly amazing this community is and you'll be able to speak out as much as you wish about your abuse. That's completely up to you! Until then, I'm hoping you find all of the strength and encouragement you need. We are all here with open arms and you are never alone! Sending happy thoughts, Poppy
  13. It's Her Party, but I'll Cry if I Want To

    Thank you so much! The support means so much.
  14. It's Her Party, but I'll Cry if I Want To

    Thank you! This is one of my favorite comments, ever!
  15. "Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday dear MOTHER, Happy Birthday to you." Ah, it's mother's birth-month again. August, for me, has this kind of... 'haze' around it. It's a full month of my dad saying, "your mom's birthday is coming up," or "your mom just had a birthday," or on the day of, "it's your mom's birthday, she shouldn't have to do this." I GET IT. She's the queen of the universe and the world falls down at her feet. She can do no wrong and deserves everything even when she gives nothing. She's perfect and all that. I get it. But can we talk about how much sense that doesn't make? Because I'm sure I can't be the only one to see how unconventional this is. Haven't you ever heard the phrase, 'you reap what you sow' or even 'what goes around comes around' or how about just plain old KARMA? A lot of people here know that I have issues with my mother. I love her to death, don't get me wrong, I mean, she IS my mom. But her being a mother and me loving her doesn't mean that she does everything right. I sometimes think that my love for her is more of a requirement - if that makes sense. Like, I have to love her because she's my mom? That sounds shallow but it's the truth. You know, emotional abuse is a funny thing. You can't see it, it leaves no physical marks, but it's so damaging. I'll be honest and say that this is the first time I've admitted to calling it 'emotional abuse.' The word 'abuse,' to me, has always meant something violent and severe. I was taught my whole life that I was too sensitive and over dramatic about everything under the sun. So I always thought that the way I was treated was normal and I was overreacting by saying it upset me or just being unhappy about my life. In my adult life, I've come to realize just how dysfunctional my family really was. With the help of my T, I've realized that my home houses a lot more emotional abuse than it does a family. Of course, there was a period of time where my parents had split up, and that is what triggered the alcohol abuse for my mom. As an adult, I can see how much pain she was in, but as a scared 11 year old girl, I had no idea. I didn't understand why she had to bring home those stupid brown paper sacks that meant I wouldn't be getting any sleep because I had to protect my sisters and keep them from being scared. I didn't understand why mom would get so angry and turn the music up so loud. I couldn't possibly understand what she was gaining by hitting us because she had too much to drink. Even as an adult, I don't understand it. My adult mind can't grasp the concept of hurting a child. I do not have my own kids yet, but I do have a niece and I know that no matter how old she gets, I could NEVER lay a hand on her. I could never do that. I love her too much. So how a mother can do that to her own kids? I'll never understand. I know the alcohol played some part in that, but I've been drunk and I still don't see how alcohol makes it okay to hurt a child. I may have been close to being a teen, and my older sister WAS a teen, but that's no excuse for my mother to connect her fist to my sister's face. So, I guess that's more the physical abuse aspect of my childhood. But, it goes hand in hand with the emotional abuse. My mother was too busy drinking to do any of the normal 'mom' stuff. I didn't get hugs or 'I love yous' before bed. I didn't get a 'be safe' when I left for school. My mom was usually sleeping off the previous night's binge when I left for school. But you see, my mother was careful to make sure she looked like an A+ mom. She came to all of my volleyball games, all of my band concerts, and all of my sister's choir concerts. She showed up. So I will give her credit for that. But to me, all I wanted was to feel like she loved me. I just wanted her to hug me or to tell me she loved me. I wanted her to care enough to memorize the clothes on my back when I left for school just in case something happened. For once, I wanted her to act like my feelings mattered and not teach me to push them down until they dissipate. I was 11 years old the fist time I intentionally hurt myself. My mom was angry. I was 13 when she found out I was doing it again. She was mad again. I was 16 the next time she saw the cuts on my thighs. This time was different though. She didn't understand it so I pleaded with her a cried and told her how sad I was. This time, she said I was doing it for attention. I asked if I could try therapy and she told me no. She told me no to getting help with a problem that she didn't understand and told me she couldn't help me with. That, to me, also didn't make any sense. If she couldn't help me, why couldn't I seek professional help? I was trying to get better. To this day, I am laughed at and mocked for having emotions. I am taught not to cry when I feel like everything is falling apart. I have to be the same statue that she is, otherwise I am a disappointment and an embarrassment. So being that her birthday was yesterday, I've had some tough decisions to make. First let me say that I don't care who you are or how old you are, EVERYONE likes to feel important on their birthday. Everyone wants their social media to blow up with birthday wishes and everyone wants to blow out every candle on the cake. My birthday was less than 6 months ago. My mom had told me that when my dad got back in town, they would take me to celebrate. On the day of my birthday, I received a text from my father, my mother said the words "happy birthday" to me, and I got to FaceTime with my niece. That was it. Dad came back to town, but there were no celebrations. No dinner, no gifts, no cake. And that hurt me because they KNOW how much I love my birthday and they told me we would be doing something and we just never did. I'm fine with it now. What I am not fine with is the fact that this woman who has NEVER been what I needed her to be, who never did anything for my birthday, now wants me to hand her the world on a silver fucking platter. She expects gifts and cards and dinners. But what about me? Am I being too petty? She is leaving in two months to go to Hawaii for her birthday/anniversary gift from my dad. So I don't think she needs much more than that. I've had a couple of people tell me that it's my decision what I do and that I should only do what I feel comfortable doing for her. I've had other people roll their eyes at me when I say I'm not doing anything because I'm being too childish. Well, here's the deal. I'm going to do SOMETHING because if I don't, the guilt will eat me alive. Regardless of if I want to or not, I have to do something. It won't be big, nor should it be because again, you reap what you sow. I'm sure my father will do something for her when he gets back in town. I think from me, a nice Facebook post and some flowers will suffice. I always plan some elaborate thing with my sisters for Mother's Day and for her birthday, but I'm not doing it this year, and that will just have to be okay. So I hope she has the best birthday ever and blows out every candle on her damn birthday cake. I'll be waiting for my turn with the candles next year. Until then, I'm going to feel how I want to feel about her and her birthday. And at her party, I'll cry if I want to. Until next time, Poppy