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Found 12 results

  1. Thegr8ful

    PTSD

    Good Afternoon, I just joined this group and i'm brand new to all of this. I'm dealing with child sexual abuse i have pushed these memories down and only realized it till a couple years ago. Now its constantly on my mind. I'm having bad flashbacks and nightmares a lot. My PTSD is making me so irritable towards my wife (i'm gay) i feel like i'm ruining my marriage by the symptoms i'm having. Im just having a hard time with this issue. If you guys have any advice i would love it. Thank you for listening, theGr8ful
  2. Hi all, I discovered this place in the early hours whilst recovering from a full day of body sensory flashbacks and ptsd. I suppose I best had start by talking about what happened, it happened nearly a year ago now. I'm gracing the good days with my full heart and savouring the comfortable mindfulness, when the bad days happen I tell myself there will be a better day and try to self soothe as much as possible. I have a 6yo to keep me busy, he is my world. It happened at home and I'm still living in the same place currently, I would be interested to see if anybody else had this happen to them in their own home and have any advice on coping mechanisms. Nice to meet you all, K x
  3. Hi all, I amfour years post my rape and thankfully divorces from my abuser. I have so much to be thankful for, and I also feel that sometimes I am still in the control cycle with my ex. Unfortunately my ex husband does use parenting time as a mechanism of abuse and control. For example: he shows up at school events unannounced, or pushes the boundaries with parenting time always to manipulate the kids away from me. When I say no he doesn’t hear me or care. Does anyone have suggestions on coping with coparenting with your abuser? It’s trigger enough just to see him, I’ve worked through that part. It’s setting boundaries I’m struggling with.
  4. Indyrex

    Dissociation

    I've been feeling pretty despondent the past day or so, which usually means I'm trying to dissociate. It's a feeling of, I'm tired of feeling this way, so I'll just not be in my body. Sometimes being in my body is one of the unsafest feelings ever. Ever read The Host? Some type of alien takes over a body and lives inside. I remember the author describing sliding into their body, feeling each finger and toe as the alien grows these long tentacle-like neuron things and grows to feel familiar. That's exactly what coming back from dissociation feels like. You slide into your body like a glove, and it either fits perfectly or feels like it's going to strangle you. I dissociated for about 5 months this past year. From about October to March. I was getting these panic attacks every month or so, and I couldn't figure out what was triggering it. But every time I had one, it felt like I was back for a day. Then a day goes by of me crying my eyes out non-stop, and it's like it never happened. The worst one happened at the beginning of March. I decided to call my Mom this time instead of my boyfriend (who I usually reach out to) and she talked me through it. And most importantly, I finally opened up to her about my sexual assault. She went home from work immediately, picked up my Dad, and drove 9 hours to come see me. I was overwhelmed with love. And when they showed up, for the first time in years, I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt secure. In hindsight, I wish I had said something sooner, but I know I wasn't ready yet. I kept reaching out to this boyfriend of mine. This man who I was in love with. Who said the most wonderful things to me to build me up. At least for a while. When I came back into my body that day my parents drove out to make sure I was okay, I had this sinking feeling in my gut that my boyfriend was triggering me. That I couldn't trust him. And I could never explain why. It was just a feeling that I acted on. Always trust what your body is saying, if you can bear to listen to it (because sometimes it's your pelvis just aching for days at a time). I was thinking about the first time I had a panic attack and events that went on around the time it happened. One I put together about a month ago, when I finally decided to call it quits with my boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend. He lied to me one night, just after I had moved to be in the same city as him (we had been in a long-distance relationship for about 10 months, and known each other for about a year on top of that). He made plans to come over and hang out, but when he didn't show, I called him. And he ignored my call. And I texted him. And he misspelled some obvious things. And he said he was at work. But I knew he never misspells stuff, and I called him out for drinking. My sober (he was in a Christian AA group) boyfriend was out drinking and lying about it to me. He called me later that night and the next day apologizing profusely, but I already knew in my head (and in the journal I keep) that I was going to break up with him as soon as I could move into my own place (see, I was staying at his aunt's vacant house until I moved into my current, new apartment). But that day didn't come for another 5 months. Looking back, how could I forget to do something I so desperately wanted to get out of back then? Dissociation. *T* One way my ex liked to "play" was to tickle me. Or give wet willies. Or other childish things that never really resulted in anything romantic or cute, like cuddling up closer together or making out. No, this was not foreplay. I think this was some sort of twisted type of control. When my ex would tickle me, I would laugh and tell him to stop. When my ex would tickle me, he would laugh and pin me down so I couldn't move and continue tickling me. When my ex would tickle me, I would scream and kick and yell at him to stop. When my ex tickled me, he wouldn't stop. Until I screamed bloody murder. I couldn't breathe. I'd start crying. My head felt full and my ears would pound and my throat tightened up. And we'd stare at each other, me trying to catch my breath but beginning to sob, and him looking scared. "I don't like that," I'd whimper out, voice trembling. "I was only playing, it's just a joke. We need to toughen you up," he'd reply. No apologies. No checking in with me and my intense emotional response to "playing." Just on to whatever was next in the day, and me in my head wondering if I really did need to toughen up. In one sentence, he had me doubting my own strength, having me believe that I was weak, and that I needed to learn how to play and flirt like him. Looking back, I just see a sick pig who can't be wrong and has no regard for anyone's boundaries, and hindered my healing process by making me not feel safe in my own body from that moment on.
  5. I don't know the first thing about writing a blog. All I know is I survived. There is more of me broken than functional - but something small, somewhere inside me persists that that will not always be the case. So here I am, writing about it. (For all intents and purposes, and I still wan't nothing to do with them, my abuser will be called "X") I was with someone, who didn't care. I was with SEVERAL someones who didn't care, at least about me. However, this one in particular had brought me lower than I have ever been. We met under incredibly ordinary circumstances, nowhere I would consider special, and he was so handsome, confident, driven and direct. He knew what he wanted in life. He was charming and exotic, and I was definitely interested. He approached me, we exchanged numbers and I stepped on the path that many of you readers unfortunately have traveled. I like to think it was because I was young, or maybe that I was naive that I didn't see all the red flags. Down the road though I genuinely believed it was my fault that everything went down as it did because I wasn't strong enough and felt like I couldn't say no - even when I did. He used me however he pleased - regardless of if I said "no". He'd just go for it; wherever he wanted, however he wanted, and on his terms. Most of the time I'd go along with it because it was easier, less hassle and would be over with sooner. I felt obliged - I was with him. I remember searching for help and seeing articles of people staying in crazy relationships - but when you're with someone long enough, certain things become the norm, and you adapt and become numb. That's what I did. How could I leave the one I loved? The one I'd given up everything for? I was so invested, I left everything for him and his family. I spent countless hours helping his family run/build a business for free (which is still successful), writing their business plan, legalities, taking his siblings to school, getting things for the business, taking care of the animals, helping his mom with things around the house, working at a new job one of his brothers had finagled for me because he liked the lady who was later my boss(so I felt indebted to X's oldest brother). You name it. I had obligations, they depended on me and I began to live with them because I didn't want to let them down, and I wanted to matter so badly (This I chalk up to my home life as well as how X treated me). Also, I felt obligated. How could I say no? I was scared to say no. I fought endlessly with my mother about my living situation and defended him because I believed that I loved him, that he was really worth it, loved me and would treat me better when I deserved it. He still doesn't know everything that happened to me. Really, I don't think anybody does. Not even my therapist. I refused to admit that I was raped when coming out of the hospital because I didn't want to see X or deal with him or any of my other aggressors again and if I caused them real trouble they'd come after me. I refused to see his dark side! I countered it with good qualities or at least mentally altered his qualities into good ones just so I could get by. I tried everything I could to make us work because a committed relationship is something you've gotta work at right? I knew I was so helpful to these people, and that was good for me but I also knew I was incredibly disposable at the same time. I couldn't just LEAVE, could I? Well, X wasn't my first assailant and I hadn't had any REAL lessons in creating boundaries or learning to say no at this point in life. I was the perfect prey and I hated myself because I didn't know what I was doing wrong or what it was that I couldn't see. I was the pretty, caged canary forced to sing at his leisure...either that or he was the prowling cat looking to eat its favorite parts one piece at a time. He'd force himself on me, occasionally promising "just one more time" - swearing that it would be the last - but it never stopped and it only got worse. All the way until the only way I thought I could end it would be dying. Yes. Dying. "Dying? Isn't that extreme? Couldn't you just leave?" No. No, because in my mind there was no way out. I tried to leave, but he was so good at the mind games. He'd have me crawling back saying sorry, feeling guilty that I had left and grateful that I had returned, often turning to extremes to get me to come back. When things would get so bad he'd make grand gestures to show he'd "changed" and every damn time I'd believe him. There was no way that all of this was happening and he didn't see it as wrong. Surely he would change, wouldn't he? For me? For love? Spoiler alert: It got worse. He wasn't just sexually abusive and emotionally - physical abuse came swiftly after discussing marriage. You have to understand that THIS was my world of relationships. I didn't really SEE how horrendous this was because I didn't know any better, and I was numb. Whatever better there was out there just wasn't for me or didn't exist. I still grieve that I wasn't loved the way I deserved. For many a partner I was mistreated, abused, and expected to be fine. It was a never ending roller coaster of feeling strong and then weak on a loop from standing up after being broken. The day I decided to die, I had moved out, but come back to say sorry because I didn't tell him when I was leaving. I told him I was leaving him, but I didn't say when or how or where. I thought he was going to kill me. He glared saying "how could you do this to me, I loved you" while standing in the bathroom doorway because he came back while I loaded everything into my mother's truck. Do understand how messed up I was that I felt like I needed to go back to say how SORRY I was for leaving HIM??? I stayed the night, and he said he wouldn't take me back. If HE of all people who cared the least and yet the most about me didn't want me back - no one would. I officially lost my value and that morning I didn't go to work, I hid a large kitchen knife in my waistband and told everyone there (his brothers were living with us at the time for free and I was the only source of income because he refused to get another job after leaving his other one) I was going to shower. Blood can't clot if it's still wet. I closed the broken bathroom door, and went to work. The first few cuts were almost nice because the pain was better than the emptiness I felt and I felt alive, but my body shortly decided to numb the area and I was able to go deeper and farther running my arms and the backs of my ankles under water to prevent the clotting. One of our dogs pushed open the door because I was crying, I pushed them out and got blood on his face. X saw this and screamed at me "What did I tell you??? WHAT did I tell you?!" He told me that if I was gonna go die I should do it outside by the parking spot of our duplex. So, I proceeded to the door to go do so and he slammed the door in my face to prevent me from going out and hit me so hard across the face. The force that he hit me with registered, but I was light headed and numb from blood loss and filled with adrenaline and anger - so I didn't feel it and I hit him back - which I had never done, at least like this. I had lost so much blood in my arms that my hands were in fists and curling back to my body downwards, so hitting him was more like swinging a club or dead arm, and I couldn't feel it, but I know it was hard - and he hit back, even harder. We went at it for a moment as he continued to say that all he cared about was how much the blood on the carpet was gonna cost him, how stupid I was, how all this was gonna make him look, what he was supposed to tell people about what happened, etc. One of his brothers came to wrap me up and I wouldn't let him, I just kept screaming that I wanted to die. I had no value, I had no self worth, and the people that had ever claimed to love me did unspeakable things to me. I was nothing. I passed out from blood loss, his brother took me to the hospital because X wanted to shower and get spiffed up before going to the hospital. How do I know this? He said so "YOU go take her to the hospital. I need to go take a shower first." I just wanted to die. I gave everything I had and I had no will to live. I hated him. I hated that I loved him. I hated that I loved him and he didn't give a _____ about me. I did everything for him and his family, and he couldn't have cared less. Maybe he could have? He could have not come at all. He could have just locked the door behind me while I died outside, but as far as I'm concerned I was nothing to him and it was his appearance he was trying to save. It was never about ME, it was always about HIM. I had small moments of consciousness like being carried to the emergency room by his one good brother Q, being put in the wheelchair, getting my 20+ staples, seeing X & Q standing in the hallway, X looking and smelling like he was going to a formal event.... X never visited or called me in recovery/rehab, and his reasons for why were lies. I called him to see if he was coming, and he always said he would, but never did and had the cleverest of excuses which were validated as lies by S. I went to therapy and rehab and never admitted to being repeatedly raped, or abused. I didn't want to get him in trouble, nor did I want to get involved with the police, court, or with any of the other miserable people who had done similar things to me. I knew that If I caused problems, especially legal problems which would compromise their business and a dozen other things, I knew that they'd come after me. I blocked his number and cut as many ties as I could conceive and one day he called me from a number I didn't recognize. He wanted me back. He was making a grand gesture again for change that we could be happy and promising all the things I wanted to hear. However, enough was enough, and I said no. I said no and when he persisted I reinforced my no, with REASONS! I wasn't helpless anymore. I was done, I was out, and in my own little way I had won. in rehab and therapy I didn't want to confess or share my abusive truths because I wanted to escape the pain, block it out, pretend it never happened, and I couldn't do that if I ever saw them again, especially a court hearing or someone coming after me because X was in jail etc. Many of my exes were incredibly physical while others were strictly verbal and emotional and I didn't have a clue on how to get better. I just went into rehab as a depressed teenager who had a lousy home life, low self esteem, particularly bad relationship and break up, self harmed, and opted for suicide. My brain did a miraculously terribly thing which was block out all my traumatic events. Miraculous because there were times after my safety plan was made and I was released from the hospital's rehab facility that I was normal. I didn't have that darkness haunting or plaguing me. However, it created abrupt triggers when my brain made connections to real life and my barricaded memories, like it dug under the wall and leaked it out. Because of it, I get the worst PTSD episodes and I am back in the moments where I am not safe. I'm starting to master not suppressing, and learning not to be overwhelmed, but let's be real here, it still happens more than I'd like to admit. This caused me problems in my marriage which is now over - which is an entirely different can of worms as he was very mentally controlling and abusive - thank goodness and am now in the arms of the sweetest, most gentle man who is my best friend, know no bounds of building me up, making sure I know I'm his top priority, understands why I may react in strange ways, knows my pain and why I am the way I am - and I could never be more grateful for the love, and compassion he gives me without guile or expectancy. Dear reader, Just because hell was your romping ground doesn't mean you can't find your way to heaven. There is hope even when there is none and if you look you will always be able to find it. Dark times and hard times can make for a beautifully strong, unstoppable, unyielding spirit and mind. I am still healing, but I'm in a safe place, and SO much more of a person than I was. What once was a whisper is now a shout and the times that ensnared me made me who I am now. I can stand up for myself, I know my worth, I know more aspects of myself. I am weak no longer. I came out strong and I conquered. You can conquer too. I needed help, but ulitimately it was up to me to make decisions towards a better destination. Only I could save myself. I am my own hero.
  6. Started therapy a few months ago, was diagnosed with PTSD. I've had multiple traumas... Feeling scared about reaching out, but I know that it is valuable. So glad that this board exists. By the way, is the chatroom still available? Do I just need to go through an extra step to join?
  7. I've joined this site looking for help and answers. I was sexually assaulted about a year ago and I experienced PTSD symptoms the other day. I don't know what triggers me thinking about these things and thinking about it, it just happens sometimes. I think about it more and more and when I do I almost experience it again. I found myself clenching my fists and resisted hurting myself (which is a big step for me) I felt the pain all over again even though I've blocked this guys number and I have a loving boyfriend who is trying to help me through this. Sometimes I find I trigger myself on purpose just so I can try to let my pain out. Has anyone else experienced this?
  8. Dasi

    Encouragement

    If you healing from sexual assault and you get out of bed in the morning, You are doing well. If you healing from sexual assault and you hold down a job, You are amazing. If you are healing from sexual assault and and you are still remotely pleasant to others, You are a lot nicer than me. If you are healing from sexual assault and you cannot always be there for a friend, You are still a good friend and a strong enough person to know what is best for you. If you are healing from sexual assault, and find it difficult to care for yourself, but still find the strength to care and love your family than you are strong as well. If you are healing from sexual assault and you decide to tell your story, You are brave. If you are healing from sexual assault and you decide that you are not ready to tell your story, You are also brave. If you are healing from sexual assault and you cry daily or have nightmares, You are normal. If you are healing from sexual assault and seeing happy, healthy people makes you sad, angry, jealous and worse, Join the club. If you are healing from sexual assault and you decide to press charges against your perpetrator, You have incredible courage. If you are healing from sexual assault and you cannot or choose not to press charges against your perpetrator, Your perpetrator is still the one to blame, and you are smart for knowing what you can handle. If you are healing from sexual assault and think that what happened was your fault, You are wrong, but you are not alone. If you are healing from sexual assault and are jealous that some survivors put their abuser in jail, You are one of many. If you are healing from sexual assault and feel like your significant other truly understands and is 100% supportive, He or she is rare and a keeper. If you are healing from sexual assault and you have a good support system, It will help A LOT. If you are healing from sexual assault and you don't have enough people who understand what you are going through, I strongly recommend joining a support group. If you are healing from sexual assault and were not believed or supported when you found the courage to tell, You still deserve to be heard, no matter how long ago it was. If you are healing from sexual assault and you feel like you hate your body, Remember your spirit is held within your body. If you are healing from sexual assault and feel painfully alone and isolated, Please know that there are thousands of people healing with you in spirit. If you are healing from sexual assault and there are days where the only thing you are able to do is exist, Remember, we are existing with you till you can live again. If you are healing from sexual assault but still looking to the future, You are a survivor. -anonymous
  9. Hi all of AS, I've been doing my best to understand the site rules and general discussion topics without being fully a member (not enough posts yet) I'm hopeful I can find peers, or friends, or someone that I can honestly talk to about how much PTSD has an effect on my daily life. I have recently found a home church, but cannot muster the courage to connect with members there because of the shame always being carried in my conscience.. I'm glad a site like this exists, but I am wondering, is the degree of my trauma too much for this site? Thanks all, Bluey
  10. We are all born into this world as loving, trusting, pure beings. We possess a genetic and a soul connection to all of our ancestors. We are the culmination of everything that we have ever been as well as all that we can and will ever be. Upon this earthly playground we live, love and have experiences both public and private. We are molded by our unique genome as well as our environmental influences thereafter. We experience ecstasy as well as pain, joy and sadness, heaven and hell. So when it is time for us to die, what then did we gather from all of this life? For those of us who are agnostic or atheist; the question is... "What legacy have we left"? For those of us who are spiritual or religious; the question is..."What contribution have we made to the greater good and what rewards or challenges shall we face in the hereafter?". None of us get a free ride. There is a natural give and take that we all share in this life. Some of us believe in a higher justice and some of us question if there is such a thing. When we are in the midst of our sufferings, faith can be hard to muster. Maybe we think we deserve punishment. There are still others that live with an attitude of entitlement. As if all other beings and nature have evolved only to serve as an instrument of personal satisfaction. Presented to us just for our personal exploitation. Family, friends, life, death- does any of it matter? Is there a God? If so; why do we suffer so much? Perhaps we are all organic miniature libraries circling the infinite main library of the creator. Micro representations of the cosmic macrocosm. If we accept this hypothesis, then what we do and think at all times is recorded and rewritten many times within ourselves and beyond. This IS the model that I subscribe to personally. We all fall, we all make mistakes and we all can get up again and heal wrongs of the past. We have a responsibility to all creation to makes things better and not take more than our share. At this point I am going to divulge some personal information that some may find shocking. This announcement is in the spirit of healing for all those whom have had any similar experiences and need a platform for their voices. My father Lester raped me when I was approximately 12 years old. When he performed this heinous act against me he stole my feminine power and my life in one fell swoop. My life would have gone much differently if this tragedy had not occurred. In the 44 or so years that followed I have done much work on myself and have triumphed as a survivor. My father went on to have his 15 minutes of fame and has been able to live a fulfilling and exciting life. He has played a leading role in saving the peregrine falcon from extinction and blazed the trail for others to continue this important work. His personal contribution to the higher good of the planet is an unquestioned fact. He is a charismatic, handsome and successful character in that particular play. He got away with his crime against me without any visible downside in the public eye. I went on to struggle with lingering PTSD for the following 44 years. In that time I have done much healing work on myself as well as many others along the way. This public announcement is intended to reach any other "targets" out there whom Lester or any other perpetrator may have damaged. If you or someone you know had any alone time with my father as a minor please contact me! Together we can close this chapter of abuse and educate others as to methods in prevention of this kind of sexual crime. This sociopathic behavior can only be prevented if we bring this problem to light for all to see. Most of us survivors are terrorized by the idea of exposing these dark offenses. We most often are ruled by shame and fear that paralyzes us from taking any important bold action. My silence very well may have left other innocent young people unprotected and then later preyed upon by this man. The statistics vary greatly, but generally show that approximately 1/5-1/4 of us have fallen prey to sexual abuse by the age of 18. Most experts agree that all child sex criminals are serial offenders. Most of these predators are people who are close friends or family of these young people. The targets are from all walks of life, all races and can be of either gender. These perpetrators most often "groom" their young prey by establishing special relationships with the children. They make the children feel extra special and usually progress to the inappropriate behaviors with these minors almost in plain sight. In other words the perpetrator is usually trusted by the child's family and therefore allowed to have private time with the minor. The only way for us to protect our children from these kinds of crimes is to educate all of the young and adult public. We have to change laws that are protecting the perpetrators. We must also provide better social services and effective counseling to the families involved. Now that I have spoken my anguish publicly, I may live the rest of my life fully. I will die knowing that I have done everything in my power to contact any other people who have experienced this indignity. Bless you all! The professionals say that according to statistics, I am not the only one. I have not found the other survivors yet. Anyone with any information related to this case or any other similar cases are encouraged to contact me! You might not even realize that you were victimized by this man. You may have warm and fuzzy memories of him because you thought that you were special to him. Please take the time to reconsider what the actual nature of that relationship was. As a united front, we can heal together and end this kind of abuse. Are you brave enough to be a part of the solution? If so, let’s talk. :-) My father's name at that time was Lester He preferred to be called “Les”.
  11. I will not go into graphic details of any sort here, but there may be some triggers for SI, suicidal thoughts, and possibly for swearing, because I don't have the energy to censor myself tonight. Sometimes I sleep. Usually people have to encourage, cajole, beg, demand, insist or outright force me to do so, but sometimes I just sleep. Sometimes I can be convinced or can convince myself, for months on end, to sleep every night like a good girl, regardless of the horror I find myself facing, or the bruises and scratches I wake up with at times, or the periodic full days of feeling exactly as I did the days after each of the rapes. Sometimes I can be strong and sleep anyway. Even when I sleep "well" I sleep exceptionally lightly; my therapists have called it hypervigilence and told me is is a typical part of the PTSD. That's very comforting when I wake up 479,358 times in any given night because of frogs farting eight blocks away. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, either on my own or because my friend has woken me. He stays on Skype and listens, sometimes all night long. When he wakes me from a nightmare and talks to me soothingly, I usually feel incredibly fortunate to have such an amazing friend, someone who cares for me enough to make such an astronomical sacrifice to ease a little of my suffering. I can't help feeling guilty, though, because my nightmares have an impact on our friendship, and on him. Just as I imagine it would be for any two people who care for each other a great deal, my suffering is hard for him to witness. Tonight I woke because my friend awakened me. I was apparently having a particularly violent nightmare, reliving past traumas in new ways, my mind ever finding neoteric methods of torment for me, rife with historical inaccuracy. He said he had a hard time waking me; I can tell I must have been very deeply asleep because I have several sore red marks that will probably be bruises in the morning, and also a handful of long scratches. I could not feel the immense gratitude I usually feel, or the relief, or the safety... Tonight I just felt anger and frustration and desolation. Tonight I just wanted to give up. The prospect of facing even one more of these nightmares is so overwhelming, I simply do not want to continue. When I was enduring the abuses and events in my life that led up to this point, I always had this idea that if I could somehow divorce my mind from my body and become this ephemeral, amorphous thing, this purely astral being, I would finally be safe and feel whole. Now that my life is within my control and the abuses have all ended, I find myself looking at my situation in this sick paradoxical state... if I could only divorce my mind from my body and be a purely physical being, without thought or fear or abusive limbs in REM sleep, if, if, if. I start to feel sorry for myself, and I think back over the nightmares I have had at other times. Forget the traumas themselves, and all the work I have put into healing; forget the years I have put between myself and the sick people who did these things. The nightmares are the one thing that never let me forget or really move forward; they are like vice strong cold hands around my wrists and ankles, and the experience is like being raped over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. The two worst kinds of nightmares are the ones where I am reliving almost exactly, but my body responds in an awful way that makes me feel a sick shame and hatred of myself that often leads to doing self injurious things; and the second worst type of nightmare is a sort that blends two separate types of traumas from my life, a break-in and the rapes, into this new kind of terror. I used to think the worst nightmare was the sort where I did not recall what had happened at all, and I woke feeling more run down than if I had not slept at all, and covered in bruises over my thighs and abdomen and arms, but those seem to have fallen away some, and I am remembering most of the nightmares I am having, and... I would trade them in gladly. This sorrow for my inability to sleep, for my inability to be "normal," to have "normal" relationships because I can't even begin to broach the topic of sleeping with someone (among other things), it wears me down. Today I feel incredibly suicidal. I lay in bed for awhile after the nightmare and cried, images in my mind of my own demise sort of superimposed or flip-book inserted with the nightmare images. I wonder frequently if there is any point in continuing. I don't like to think of myself as weak, or as a quitter, but... years of going without sleep, feeling like a freak, waking with injuries, and reliving horror just... eats at the soul. My friend tells me there is this therapy I have never heard of before called EMDR (short for Eye Movement Desensitization Reprogramming), and it is specifically geared toward people with PTSD. I am a bit dubious, but I'm sort of at a point where I will try standing on my head covered in chickens blood while reciting Sutras in reverse if I thought it would just make my head quiet down. So, I had two hours of sleep, and I am probably up for the day, because I can't face my pillows, or my blankets. My puppy cuddles me and licks my thigh because he knows this routine, and when I pick him up and drench his fur with my tears, he'll forgive me, and because of him, maybe we'll make it until tomorrow.
  12. twb

    Hello

    I found this website while searching for information about post-rape behaviour. I thought I had resolved all my feelings about being raped, but during recent therapy for PTSD it has emerged again. Turns out I had buried it so deeply because I really believed it was my fault. I believed I was so bad that I had to hide that part of myself from everyone. The therapy is hard, but I am at last re-evaluating all the thoughts and feelings about myself that I've believed for decades.
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