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I sat in the chapel and tried to talk to you. It was difficult to imagine you were there because you haven’t been here in a long time. As much as I begged and pleaded with you to come back; you never did. All the times I needed you; you were never here. Why would you be here now? I guess I can concentrate on what I would say to you if you were here; if somehow you came back and I, as an adult, could talk to you, what would I want to ask you?
Why? That would be my first question. I
It only takes one sentence, one word to 'trigger' me. Most of the time I do not even notice until its too late. I start off feeling fine, then a few hours later I begin to feel tired, which quickly changes to exhausted. I then attempt to go to sleep, but am usually left just laying awake. People ask me if I am okay, to which I respond yes...but really I don't know. How am I feeling? Who am I? Where am I? What am I? I feel like an alien, the body I am currently in does not belong to me. I feel di
How’s it going? How are you? I miss you guys! Comment below and tell me how you’re doing 😊
I don’t have much to say today, but I wanted to share a few things with you! Snowmageddon in Oklahoma has given me a lot of time to myself to just THINK. Honestly, things have been going pretty well lately. I’ve hit a few bumps in the road as one does, but overall, I can’t really complain.
Snowmageddon killed my car which sucked. I was without a car for about 5 days because the
I thought being a caregiver for my mom after 2 strokes, a seizure and watching her diabetes would be simple. I take care of her needs and get her to her appointments and make sure she takes her meds and gets her home health physical and occupational therapy done. I watch for signs of her diabetes acting up and signs of another stroke. It's hard but simple, right? What I didn't expect is theneedto handle her mental health.
I mean, I barely know how to manage my own mental health, how do I ma
My mother has had another stroke/TIA. They are not sure why. She now has a pronounced limp with her left leg. And at this point I will probably need to move in with her so she has care while her husband is working.
At this point I am just scared. If they dont know the cause, how many more episodes will she have before a major stroke? Just terrified and no one else can know.
Today. I am thinking of trauma. I love being able to blog and say whatever I please. I can not be judged. Thinking back to that moment, when I woke up slumped over placed in a position like a rag doll, naked. I did not give permission to take my clothes off. It is sick. I hope he remembers it ...to his last living day, because it is not my problem he chose to do that. And to all the people that judge and talk about me because of that, that is there problem too. I feel bad for them. I se
It’s story time with yours truly. I haven’t posted a blog in a while, but I have something to share with you all. I did make a post about some of this, but I’m going to delve into the details here!
The last blog I wrote was right after I finished the outpatient programs I was attending, and I discharged from that at the end of October. It’s now the end of the year and I’m going to update you on the rest of the year and do my year-end recap!
I guess I’m just going to jum
So this is one of those times that I really wish I was completely different type of person. Instead of sheltering everything inside, I wish I let everything out. Well at least most things. Right now I feel anxiety swelling up but there is no one to reach out to. I shelter so much of myself that I have shut the world out and people I have known for years.
Now there is no one to reach out to and say I need a safer space. No one to reach out to and say I am not ok. No one to reach out to and s
How did you feel the first time you were validated? From my own experience and so many others I know, the answer seems to be 'relieved'. Living with a truth you know to be real, all by yourself, can be lonely, tormenting, frustrating and confusing. Then you find a voice, risk using it and someone says, "I believe you". They then offer support you never thought you deserved or were entitled to, they validate your trauma and the aftermath you carry and offer the comfort you've craved for far too l
I didnt know you have panic attacks and remain sleep. What the heck is that?
So here I am sleeping what I thought was peacefully. I am in a dream. For some reason I have left home and taken in by another family. The are kind and have kids already of their own. I asked the mother a questiin that at this moment I cant think of. The answer given was one that suggested that was not my real question. I am confused like yes it's what I want to know. The mother says to call her back when I am no
When I heard about people healing from trauma, they made it sound like a journey with an end. You reflected and learned and grew as a person. You learned forgiveness and healthier habits. What they didnt say or I never heard, is that healing is ongoing. It begins from the moment the trauma ends until the day you die.
I never heard them say that even when you think you have made it past the large hurdles, hurdles pop up all the time. Sometimes they are small. They show in the form of brief
Some days I wonder if he cares how he has made me feel? We were close for so many years, and after that first night I never spoke to him again. It hurts to know what he did, and that he didn't admit it. Will he ever? The hardest thing is to know he hasn't paid for it. In the bigger scheme, shouldn't someone who committed rape have to face the consequences in the eyes of the law. I feel like I am waiting for a call from the detective, all the time... waiting for the words he admitted to eve
He was seven months old.
She was the first of my childhood friends to have a baby.
She had gotten married in January and he was born in April. Though she loved him dearly, she wondered what people in our closed, Conservative circle would say.
But I loved her for it. Because everyone who has walked the hard paths of life in a broken Creation know sorrow.
I knew it. And I knew that she knew it.
She was the first of my friends to get married, and to have a baby.
I just happened to glance at my phone as the text flashed across my screen.
"NEVER let anyone walk to their car alone. Sarah* was almost grabbed last night by a man in a ski mask. She got away but he exposed himself to her."
I sputtered. The girl on the other side of the Zoom call was waiting for me to speak, but whatever we had been discussing faded away like fog being burned by the sun.
After the call was finished, I re-read the text. My heart dropped. My hands felt clammy.
You know when you just want so badly to be a normal person, but no matter how hard you fucking try, you can't?
I don't think I'll ever be normal. My relationships will never be normal. My sex life will never be normal.
I don't want extraordinary. I just want fucking normal.
I was scrolling through Reddit.
"What's one thing you wish you'd never gone through?" Ahh, AskReddit, the deeply philosophical subreddit. One of my favorites.
I paused before I wrote. "I was a victim of domestic violence from sixteen to eighteen," I began. "It's made me a better therapy student," I admitted, "but I could do without the lingering anxiety and PTSD."
For the first time in therapy a few weeks ago, I had acknowledged that I wasn't sorry the abuse had happened. I w
Something that may come as no surprise to some, is the fact that being a young and easily manipulated teenager with unregulated wifi in their house... is quite dangerous for the child's safety.
I was 14. A young and very insecure girl, with a laptop and a newfound curiosity for multiplayer games, chatrooms and omegle. Oh, omegle. That bloody website. I wish I didn't know about it... but all the cool Youtubers were using it. It was an enticing concept, meeting new people with other experienc
I woke up this morning with the usual nest of 'bed head' hair plastered across a slightly puffy, 'pillow wrinkle' marked face that hasn't worn make-up for 10 months and had a revelation of sorts - and it relates to the fact that I couldn't give a flying shite that I continue to look like a bit of a mess throughout the day.
What others see on the outside has never been a priority to me (or my husband...thankfully), and I certainly don't judge a book by its cover, but comments can hurt, cause
I don't know why I'm writing a blog post. I'm writing a blog post because of multiple things.
1. I feel like hurting myself, and I do not want to do that again.
Most days, I can forget it happened. My brain puts those memories somewhere they feel small, insignificant.
But sometimes I feel like I'm cracking. Like a dam with a crumbling foundation, and I'm holding the water back, but there are cracks in this dam, there are cracks and I will, eventually, one day, break.
I have read a lot lately about not knowing what to write or say. If only I could truly express my feelings in words. I want to live my life knowing I never knew it was going to happen. Was there a reason it happened? Don't they say everything happens for a reason. What is the reasoning for this. I am meant to relive these nights just because. My counselor seems understanding, and is what I always wanted. I know I can not live with the memories creeping back daily. If someone passes away
To whom it may concern,
I don't think about my trauma as much anymore. I don't wake up screaming every night anymore. I don't pull away from someones touch as often anymore. Those things are still there and probably always will be. Cruel reminders, scars that will always be there no matter how much I age, but with time, I've learned to breathe through the trauma, quiet the screams, and force myself closer to the people I want close.
It's not that it isn't still scary or isn't still pa