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Found 12 results

  1. "It is so easy to descend into madness, then opening doors and exposing old wounds..."-Timi Afternoon, umm i am so not good at introductions lol. But my name is Timi! I am a 22 years old african american chick from Louisiana. Currently a junior in college but opt out this semester to better my mental and physical health. I am a incest and child molestation survivor and finally receive professional help through therapy. Depression, anxiety, paranoia, and Bipolar disorder have been plaguing my life every since i was child. I thought i could live with what happen to me, continue to interact with my abuser.... But after a mental breakdown, i knew i could no longer walk in my own shadows. I been lurking on message boards and with the new found strength i now have, i am ready to share my story. I want to help others who dealt with the same pain i have carried for so long. I would love to hear from others and I WANT TO BE CLEAR: My message box IS ALWAYS OPEN. Even if it is something small, like talking about your day. Always know i am here and willing to listen. So follow me through my retelling of my journey, How i transcend through Each Stage to recovery & peace... *Please Note-My grammar is horrible and one of the reasons that i have not participate in messageboards more sooner. Please excuse that because it is one of my insecurities
  2. Blog pilot: Conquer

    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.
  3. -hope to make this blog a cohesive record of my cognative processing therapy sessions and what goes on before them and after them. If they even help. This is the first entry more covering the emotions that brought me to needing therapy and trauma processing. As my sessions unfold I hope to have an entry for each session Jan 2oth 2016 Confusion is all I know. Insecurities are fortified strong. Ingrained to my core. Doubt dictates everything. Fear governs what remains. The experts tell me that the circumstances of my life have brought me here. That there was nothing I could do to avoid this place. It is inevitable. It is expected. I am told to believe that this horrible place of despair and weakness is mandatory before I can truly heal. I hear the experts voice, it fades in and out. But really my attention is turned to the past. Keep looking over my shoulder at who I used to be. I already know how to do this. I have survived. It happened so long ago and when it did I hardly skipped a beat. Life went on and so did I. It wasn't all about survival either. Much of the time I thrived. Loving healthy relationships, friendship, career, ambition. Life. Year after year I pushed though and I made it work. Push, make it work, act as if, fake it until you make it. Life threw pain and abuse at me and I just kept on getting back up. Wiser and stronger each time. And then it began. That breaking. Like a crushing under the injustice of it all. The fracture started within where only I could see it. I panicked when I couldn't repair it. I lost myself in the panic. Life and love happened. Damn love. The fracture spread like a crack in a windshield. Spider web pattern, weakness and cracks everywhere now. A delicate and stealthy end to something so strong. Weakness takes over. Can't be denied. Others can tell. I go inside myself seeking safety. I stay there for a long time. And then THE BREAK. The reset button is hit and it sends me back to that day. The skills I have acquired in the past few years vanish. So many life lessons forgotten in the flash as I go backwards. So far backwards. Literally I come to and I find myself screaming searching for anything that will harm me. I find it. It's dangerous. I do it and the damage comforts me. Better than the embrace of a friend. I know this embrace isn't leaving and I know this embrace wants to hurt me. There can be no deception here. Trust is not required. We get along great. My new best friend, my only friend becomes self harm. The strength in me is long gone but inside a ghost is trapped. She screams at me. Screaming, "what the fuck are you doing?" "Get your shit together." "You have to pull through this." She screams until she loses her voice. She beats on me from the inside. She leaves bruises that no one can see. The broken shell overpowers the ghost inside. Crush. More spider web fractures. So weak can't even explain where the pressure comes from. Please can someone just understand. All hope is lost. The experts voice breaks through, tells me I can heal. Blinding rage takes over. Doubt consumes me. Will I ever function again? Questions, why now? What is happening to me? Am I crazy? Flashes of desperation and clarity keep bringing me to the doctor. Help, please help me. I need to get back to how I was. Please can you explain what I am doing wrong, why now? why break now? I need to get back. Is this the beginning of my end? How do I fix this?
  4. Hello! I'm brand new here. Nervous! I imagine everyone is when they first come here. I am happy to have found after silence. Really in need of a safe place to communicate with people who understand how confusing everything is. My therapist recommended this site and said I might be able to find some encouraging people here. Hoping to meet some of you and draw inspiration from your courage.
  5. If I Could Speak Freely

    In my head I wrote this in the style of open mic poetry night sort of thing. But this one will never be spoken by me. I wish I could though, even if I just heard it out loud. I don't know how to really BE with someone anymore. Something subtle starts to grip my mind and wipes it clean it's the quietest scream I've ever felt. He was supposed to love me... and he was suposed to care for me... and he was supposed to know the most about me... I made it through the first "You were too young" "It could have been so much worse" "The memories are such a blur" I can still remember his daffy duck impression though I made it through the second At least he didn't touch me shrugging off the memory I just stare forward in time like I did in that room I can still feel the heat of panic run down my neck though I broke on the third There was something different that time something unnerving about how I trusted him It shook me the way I made my voice heard My confidence soared, I was in control but I broke that time It was the quietest snap I ever heard It took me over a year to process that night one day it just hit me. The man I was with at that time just said "I was wondering when you would see it for what it really was". The woman who was supposed to love me just sighed she never did end up believing me The drinking at a peak I had no will to live struggling to win against the pessimism that had gripped me never safe never loved never heard I reached out. I caved in. I'm living now, but I feel like I'll never win. I'm better now, but this is the quietest war there's ever been.
  6. I'm Afraid To Lose Weight

    In the last year or so I've gained quite a bit of weight. I now have stretch marks all over because of how quickly I gained it. I didn't try to gain it it just kind of happened because I went off my medication for a while because I kept not getting to the doctor. I was afraid of the fact that I didn't have insurance. I used to look in the mirror and love myself but now I look in the mirror and I see something completely unattractive. I didn't wear shorter shorts this summer, I didn't wear my favorite sun dresses, I couldn't afford to buy all the cute new clothes I would have loved to be able to wear. I am beautiful, but I don't feel that I can be sexual. My weight feels like too much of a burden. But even with all that insecurity I feel wonderful. I don't feel as scared anymore. I'm aware that victims come in all shapes and sizes, but I just feel less like an option for predators and I have less propositions in general. It makes me feel safer. I want to be healthy, but I'm afraid to lose weight. I'm afraid of adding some other guy to the list of people that wouldn't listen when I said "No" or set a boundary.
  7. Hi there, I'm not going to give out my real name, but I am very new to all of this and am wanting to start my recovery process as soon as possible. I'm feeling a lot of conflicted things. I blame myself. Some moments I don't. I go through the what ifs and wonder if I'll ever return to normalcy. I'm looking to find others who can relate to my story and take their advice...and to not feel so alone. Anyways, I'm a 24 year old female and love riding horses, hiking with my dog, and hanging out with my friends and family. I'm also a recent college grad! Forgive me if this isn't a great introduction. I'm still processing this situation and forum.
  8. My Story (Tw)

    I going to start this with the fact that I am survivor of multiple situations of sexual abuse and rape. It's been an issue for most of my life and there are days where I feel like I've brought it all onto myself. There are also days when I look at my current life and realize that I never asked for those things to happen. My story begins in my childhood. I grew up in a small town with little to no contact with other people my age other than family. My father was a jack of all trades who ended up becoming a mechanic to support us. My mother was a nurse but ended up in prison multiple times due to drug abuse and probation violiations. This left my sister and me to my aunt and grandmother. Everything began here, I think. I remember my cousin attempting things at night. He'd sneak into my room and attempt things while I slept however I wasn't always asleep. I remember bits and pieces but it was definetely not something that should be happening between young children. It was around this time (preschool) that my teachers began teaching us about sexual abuse, "no-no" places, etc. Once I understood what was going on between my cousin and I, remember running to my aunt to tell her. No one believed me though. If anything, I think it made her ignore us more. These situations kept occuring throughout the next few years but were abruptly put to an end when my mother returned home from prison. Fast forward a few years to my 11th birthday. I moved in with my mom for a short period of time. She'd just moved in with a new boyfriend who I soon discovered was a giant douche. While my mom would be away at work, he would ask me to do horrible things like go through her purse or phone to find numbers from other men. He would tell me stories about her having sexual relations with these men and how horrible she was. I didn't really understand why he told me these things but needless to say, it wasn't right. I moved back in with my dad shortly after and lost contact with my mother for a few years. Puberty hit, my relationship with my father was becoming rocky. He was stressed, I was stressed. I ended up spending my freetime cleaning the house and taking care of my little sister. He and I would fight constantly. It was around this time that I started exploring my sexuality a bit more. I ended up having a slumber party with a female friend of mine. She was much more mature than I was at the time and we began talking about sex. One thing lead to another and we were naked. I was terrified. I eventually put a stop to things because I couldn't bring myself to do some of the things she requested. The next day, she told everyone in school that I was a lesbian. I lost a lot of friends that year. A few months later, I went to my best friend's birthday party. I met a guy there, we talked, and I had my first real puppy love. We continued to talk online and eventually after a bunch of crazy situations we started dating. I was 14 at the time and told him (told me he was 17 but was actually 18) I'd give my virginity to him on my 15th birthday. I figured that'd make him happy and I really liked him. Birthday rolls around and things were awkward as hell for me. I'd had zero experience with men nor was I even old enough to really be doing anything. He'd attempt to touch me and do things while my family was preoccupied and ended up staying the night. My mom told him he had to sleep in a different room but of course, that didn't stop him. He ended up sneaking into my room while everyone was asleep and expected everything. I told him I didn't feel ready, that I changed my mind but that didn't stop him. The next day, I wasn't really sure how I felt but I knew he was happy so I felt like I should be happy too. I didn't see him again until the following month at a convention. I lied and told my parents I was staying with some female friends but had made plans to stay with my boyfriend. He ended up bringing another girl into the room and asked for a threesome. I told him I didn't like the idea of this so he more or less threw me out of the bed and had he way with the other girl while I watched. He broke up with me after this and left me to my thoughts. I made plans to attempt suicide but my friends stopped me and let me stay with them that night. I ended up getting close with another male friend and that night, we fooled around. I didn't really feel right and was still very mentally numb so I barely remember it. He and I eventually ended up dating much to my parents dismay. (He was 23 and I was 15). My mom allowed this to happen? We hid it from my father and eventually he moved into my mom's to help out with the bills. I eventually moved back in my mom and lived with them. He more or less took care of me and raised me during this time. Paid for my schooling, food, clothes, etc. while my mother continued to battle her drug addiction. My father and I stopped talking so he had no idea what was happening. I spent my highschool years in a more or less adult relationship that I wasn't ready for. When I wasn't dealing with that, I was taking care of my mother and her equally mentally fucked boyfriend. I fought off her boyfriend's sexual advances multiple times but she never believed me. I turned 18 and quickly packed my bags and uprooted with the boyfriend. We were homeless for a little while before moving into a shitty trailer with a friend. I started to develop some serious anxiety issues. We fought a lot, tried to see other people, and after much chaos, we finally broke up. A few months later, he took off to Florida and left me with nothing. I couch surfed again and moved in with some friends. Finally got a job and started to become established. Met another guy and things started all over again. This time, drugs and more drama. He wanted to have sex with other girls and I wasn't okay with it. I was lonely so I put up with him. He cheated and placed the blame on me. He wouldn't allow me to hang out with any of my male friends, would dictate what I wore, how I spent my free time, etc. I thought I had control over things but I was very mistaken. I started drinking and doing drugs with him and of course, this lead to my first real rape that I can remember. We were drunk, he forced himself on me, I cried and told him to stop but he didn't. I tried to forget and just accept it. He continued to guilt trip me into doing things I didn't feel comfortable doing and if I rebeled, he would insult me and make me feel like a horrible person. He would constantly remind me of how horrible I was for sleeping with men while I was so young and how fucked up I was for allowing my cousin to do things to me. After months of this tourture, I started talking with a friend of a friend. We bonded due to the fact that his girlfriend had mentally abused him and cheated on him within the recent months. Eventually, he came into town and we met up. He ended up kissing me and shit hit the fan. I didnt' allow anything else to happen but I was so confused and upset by the entire thing that I called up my boyfriend the next day and told him what had happened. He called me every name in the book, we fought, we screamed, and eventually he slammed me up against a wall. I ended up breaking up with him and spent the entire weekend with the guy and ignored my phone. Boyfriend continued to blow up my phone before I finally shut it off. The night ended with guy and I fooling around. We'd been talking about our sexual intrests but I specifically told him that I was not ready for sex. He told me he was okay with this and understood so we continued to fool around. Before I knew it, he was on top of me forcing himself on me. It was like someone flipped a switch in my brain. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, I was numb. He clawed me, bit me, scratched me, etc. I just laid on the bed in shock while he did whatever he pleased to me. Eventually, we fell asleep. I woke up the next morning to him wanting the same thing. I remember trying to force myself out from under him. I still couldn't tell him how I felt but this time, I pushed him away. He asked if I was okay and I lied. He eventually left and I shut down. I tried to kill myself and my roommates found out and rushed me to the ER. I ended up being placed in the psychward for the night and was eventually released the following morning with a diagnosis of "relationship troubles". My boyfriend finally got ahold of me that day after he found out what had happened. He invited me over to talk. He grabbed me and cried and appolgized. He was upset by the fact that someone had taken advantage of me and made it feel as though I was the victim for once. He attempted to have sex with me but as soon as he took my clothes off and saw all the cuts and bruises on my body, he lost interest and sent me away. We spent the next few months trying to work things out between us. We continued to fight. He eventually started placing the blame of my rape on me. He told me I was lying to him because I refused to report the rape to the police. He started calling me a sl*t and started asking for threesomes because it wasn't fair that I had had sex with another man while we were more or less together. He started becoming abusive again and I was mentally falling apart. I wasn't on speaking terms with my family at this time, my grandmother was on her death bed, had a really shitty job that barely paid the bills, and was trying to go to school for a degree I wasn't happy with and couldn't afford. I had just turned 21 so I began to spend my free time in the bars to avoid him. We ended up having a huge fight and back to the bar I went. I ended up running into another guy and it was lust at first sight. I felt so horrible for having feelings for someone else again and the flashbacks started. I couldn't break up with my boyfriend again and go through all this pain but I wasn't happy with him. I made plans to meet up the next night with the guy again and tell him that I had a boyfriend. A friend of mine tagged along and was supposed to be my moral support through all of this but instead of that, she guilt tripped me into going home with cute guy. In my drunken stupor I ended up staying the night and falling asleep next to him. I woke up the next day to realize that I needed to cut ties with my crazy boyfriend. I tried to break up with him after this and he flipped his shit. I remember sitting in his van with him with this happened. He started swerving and driving chaotically all over the road, attempting to drive off the bridge we were going over. I calmed him down and we drove back to his place to talk. Talking turned into screaming, screaming into crying, crying into more screaming and things being thrown and broken. He started to slam himself into his walls and tried to physically hurt himself. I tried to stop him but he ended up smashing my hand in the process and continued to do so. I told him I was leaving but he refused to let me leave his house. I ended up staying the night and went into shock again. I was terrified. He told me he would kill himself if i left and made all sorts of promises that he would change. Eventually, he ended up dropping me off at my night class and I imediately called a friend and asked to be taking to the psychward again. They weren't very helpful yet again so I ended up going home. Crazy boyfriend finally got the hint though that I needed to be left alone. We broke up and I started seeing cute guy from the bar. We spent many nights getting drunk at the bar and making plans to do all sorts of wonderful things. We finally made a plan to meet up and have a real date. The same day, I had gotten into a fight with crazy ex over personal belongings. I was pretty devistated by this but had high hopes for my date. I got ready, waited for boy to call, but nothing happened. Later on that night, I got a drunken text from him that he was hanging out with his ex and they were all partying. I lost it again. I ended up walking out of my friends house that night with no plans to return alive. I walked myself through the shittiest parties of the neighborhood with hopes that someone would kill me since I wasn't capable of following through with it myself. I walked for hours having mental arguements with myself over my self-worth. Eventually, my friend found me and took me back to the ER. The doctors finally saw me and realized that this was more than just boyfriend troubles. They sent me home with a possible diagnosis of PTSD and made plans to get me in with a therapist asap. I spent the next few weeks staying with a friend while I tried to recover. I saw cute boy a couple more times and we talked but nothing came of it. Crazy boyfriend eventually apologized and we started talking. My grandmother passed away and I felt everything fall apart. Crazy boyfriend made an attempt to be there for me but at this point, I was so mentally numb and lonely that I ended up just getting back with him. I started going to therapy and things started to get a little better. I was medicated and started to build my life back up again. (I'd dropped out of school at this point). Crazy boyfriend and I ended up moving in with some friends a few months later and things were finally okay. We didn't fight as much and I felt stable for once in my life. I started to ride bicycles and became obsessed with cycling. I started to build up my own hobbies again and stopped drinking and doing drugs as much. Things were great until cute ex guy from the bar ended up talking to me again out of nowhere. Crazy boyfriend flipped his shit, screamed at me, threw things, and broke his computer and we were back at square one. I finally calmed him down enough to explain to him that I had no interest in that other guy but I finally realized things were not going to change. I began to distance myself and started to spend more time with my roommates rather than crazy boyfriend. I started becoming more involved in cycling and began training for race season. I made new friends and started to build a new social life. I felt like I had control over things again. Crazy boyfriend and I didn't really speak much during this time. Things were relativly peaceful between us but he began to notice that I was spending more time with other friends. He didn't like my new hobby and didn't like my new social circle. Still, he didn't say much. A close friend of mine introduced me to friend of hers who also liked to race bicycles. He and I hit it off and instantly became good friends. We spent many months riding bikes, training for races together, and talked about all the fucked up things in our lives. Crazy boyfriend didn't like this. I didn't understand why at the time because bicycle friend and I were just that. Friends. He was cute but I was mentally burnt out and had no interest in men at the time. We did end up becoming best friends for a while. I started going to his races and opening up to him. We had the same goals and dreams in life. He would give me advice on how to handle my relationship with crazy boyfriend and how to make things better. (I left out a lot of details about my abuse to bicycle friend around this time). Crazy boyfriend and I started to fight a bit around this time. He was tired of not having control over my life and tried to put his foot down. I rebeled and did my own things. I ended up going out with bicycle friend and my other close friend that night and finally came to the realization that I was in a relationship with a guy I had nothing in common with who treated me like shit while a guy I considered my best friend who shared the same goals in life was standing right in front of me. Feelings started to stew and eventually we both admited that we liked each other. I remember returning home to finding all of my crazy boyfriend's stuff being removed from my room (we were renting our own rooms in this house but we both slept in my room). I put my foot down, mustered all the mental strength I could and told him it was over for good. He cried, he begged, and apologized but I continued to hold strong and left the house for a few days so he couldn't change my mind. I spent the next few days hanging out with bicycle friend. We made a plan for a date and went out together. We clicked instantly and things were wonderful. A few weeks later, we made it official and shit hit the fan again. I came home to crazy boyfriend bad mouthing me to friends, having people over and ignore me, shit talking me online, etc. I did my best to ignore it but it was pretty tough. I ended up losing a lot friends during this time but I felt like it was for the best. I started spending my free time with my new boyfriend and things were better. Within the next few months, I ended up moving in with him. Things were pretty great. He was extremely understanding of my past and worked with me on a lot of my issues. I was officially diagnosed with PTSD at this time. There were many nights that ended with me waking up crying. New boyfriend would calm me down and talk to me. He wouldn't coddle me but instead, told me to stay calm and think about what was really going on around me. We continued to live together and things were great. I told him everything that had happened in my past and he continued to help me. He was never pushy and never made me do anything I didn't feel comfortable doing. He let me do things at my own pace and was there to support me if I needed it. We lived together for the next year before we finally realized that we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. We've been engaged for a year now and our wedding is a half a year away. He made me realize what it was like to finally be loved for who I was. Since I've been with him, I've learned to love myself a bit more and work towards what I want to do with my life rather than living my life to the expectations of another. I still have mental ups and downs but I am finally on the road to recovery.
  9. I started the recovery process almost 25 years ago and rarely think about having been sexually abused. Twenty years ago, I wrote a book about recovering from sexual abuse but couldn't find a publisher. After retiring, I brought my manuscript out, revised and expanded it and got it published earlier this month. I want to help others recover and give them hope when they are going through the pain and suffering of the recovery process. I look forward to getting to know others here and providing support.
  10. Writing Again

    I'm trying to write again in hope that it will unhinge something about myself that I haven't understood before. I was raped as a child, as a teenager and as a woman. There were things that happened to me that I don't understand the effects of just yet, but I hope that on this long overdue journey of recovery I will begin to understand, accept and move forward in one piece/peace. I am in a relationship now, he is a wonderful man with his own demons that he is battling. I have a 3 year old son from another relationship. It is the love that I have for these two boys that make me want to be better, I want to love them both and be loved at the highest capacity that my mind is capable. Not only because it is what they deserve but because it is what I deserve. There is a place in my mind that I go to, the hurt that travels from my stomach to my throat, then to my stomach, then to my throat again. Many of you know this place all too well. It's where we go when we are exposed to vulnerable situations, when we are triggered. A place that I go to far to easily. It is a security blanket of guilt and memories that although is the bane of my existence, I use as an excuse not to live my life. Fortunately I have learnt how to remove myself from this place. Somedays it harder than others, somedays it's only momentary. What I aim to eventually do is to never feel the need to go to this place again. Although its hard to admit what I'm about to say, but I really do need this place. I need it to hide behind every bad decision that I've made, to not be accountable for my sadness today. It has been 13 years. I was robbed of many things, but I will not rob myself of the happiness that I can feel today.