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At a low point but first time at one of these points where I have a therapist I really like.
I have “my body is a cage” stuck on repeat in my head atm.
It’s sickeningly appropriate for how I feel.
***Trigger Warning****
Wanting to crash diet, count cals, keep food journal, look at certain things online. (if you know what I mean, you know..)
wanting to feel anything but my feelings...so visualizing self harm a lot. It’s how I cope with not self harming...hav
Collection Of Advice My Therapist Is Giving Me On Trauma
1. You don't have to deal with it. You don't have to ever talk about it.
2. You don't have to decide anything related to your trauma. You are allowed to decide nothing.
I look a lot like my mother. I grew up in a really rural area, the kind of place where everyone knows everyone. So even if I didn't know them, most people knew that I was "biomom's kid." When I was a teenager I used to hate this. It still kind of irritates me, but with several decades of experience, and some blunt stone faced answers to total strangers (more on that some other day) I've learned to deal with it... sorta. It helps that I live hundreds of miles from the little blink-and-you'll-miss
One of the hardest parts of being abused was isolation. I felt cut off from the world. I felt like everyone else in the world is more valuable than me, I was ashamed for wasting their time on me. I was worthless, and they were so successful. They seemed so confident and in control and competent. I was jealous honestly. And I understand my jealousy. I would think, their problems are so small. Additionally, and perhaps much more powerful was my feeling of degradation because I knew I couldn't cont
I have experienced a lot of isolation and I know I would not feel sad if many people passed away.
However some would matter. How do we handle grief, especially when we have PTSD so we experience things at much greater intensity. Particularly when there's a feeling of guilt. Just yesterday I came across a woman who gave permission to pull the plug on her dad.
The first thing is to try to take good memories of them and highlight them in your mind. Share it. Write it down. It can be a wa
Good news – I’m back!
Last time I really blogged, I was about to embark on a new journey as I would be attending a trauma retreat. I did promise daily diary entries to post after I finished but the truth is, I was so exhausted from all the work I was doing that I had no energy to write when I got home at the end of each day. I will, however, go over some of the highlights and give a brief description of how each day went.
The retreat was a total of five days long. On the first day, we
This grieving thing is way harder than I imagined it would be. It is harder than other people portrayed it to be. I have had other deaths before, grandmothers, aunts, cousins but I have never experienced grief in this manner. I have never felt the grief that comes with the loss of a parent. When I thought it would happen was another 15-20 years from now. Time enough that I could say that she enjoyed her life and got to have a long life. Instead, she was gone before she could even get to old age.
What I thought about today
I am fighting to create a "Day" for myself. It's so hard for me to be consistent. I've honestly tried but I never figured it out. I realized recently that I didn't really have anything to get up for. It's nice to know that I want to have a productive day and it's so important to acknowledge that I don't feel satisfied about each day, but how do I fill that time?
First I thought I was just hopelessly lethargic. My new therapist challenged me. He said, maybe I
Well guys, I've been away for quite some time! During that time I've learned a few things about myself and life (to say the least!)
How do I feel coming back? I feel a lump in my heart. I remember the sadness and pain I was in when I wrote my blogs, and the help and camaraderie that you all offered.
It was very dark. I remember feeling nothing would or could get better. I remember the loneliness I always felt in the world. I remember not being able to even write the letter I in capital
Where do I even start? More of a... oh boy... can I do this, or even start talking about it? Uhm, okay, I'm doing this... I guess. Wish me luck!! 😬
When I was 7 years old, I lived in Texas (TX, USA) with my family (mother, her bf, sister, and soon-to-be born brother - son of her bf).
Referenced name for all of them:
Mother - mom
Sister - PJ
Mom's Ex-husband (bf at the time in TX) - G
Brother - I won't be talking about him at all, so I'll leave his
A little bit about myself & important dates:
~I am 18 years old (born March, 2003).
~My first time being sexually abused was when I was 7 and that abuse continued for 2 years till I was 9. (first abuse)
~I was sexually abused at 11 years old. (second abuse)
~I was very traumatized and forgot everything of my first abuse up till my memories were triggered at 12 years old.
~I was sexually abused at 12 years old. (third abuse)
~My family found out about the first a
People keep telling me that I was in the right to report something (they know what it is). Some of them say that I did what was best for my friend. While the others say that my choices were these: A) I report and she's angry and everything is ruined or B) I don't report it and she commits suicide.
Not long after I reported everything and she found out, she said that she never would have committed suicide. She said she was afraid of death.
Although, all those times she talked to me
Been a while... I've recently recalled something that I find nagging at me constantly.
How can something you love SO much, suddenly be something you hate and despise the most? It's very irritating.
*Possible Trigger*
Well, one day, I had to go to a hotel and while there, I made a phone call to the abuser. Such a wise choice, huh? The social worker and my therapist were SO hesitant about me doing it, but the detective said it might help. Maybe the abuser will confess, right?
"It gets better."
A phrase I'm sure we've all scoffed at at one time or another. Something none of us thought we could achieve; "better."
The thing that bothered me about it, though, wasn't that I never believed things could get better-- it's that I never believed "better" was going to be good enough. How much better could things possibly get? A few years ago, everything felt hopeless. I didn't see any point in living every day, I didn't know what I was living for. I didn't feel like
Friends, family,
Maybe a bf for me.
Anyone I like or am close to,
I'm naive and can't breathe.
When they ask me to do something,
I do it without thought.
Whatever makes them happy,
Is all that really counts.
Pic, or a selfie,
Maybe audio or a snap.
Everytime I try to say no,
To them, it's a bunch of crap.
They say they aren't unhappy,
When I say no to them.
Yet, the look on their face,
Shows their p
I keep trying to deal with her death and it is a struggle. I started therapy a couple of weeks ago to yry and prevent some severe depression. I have had 2 sessions and I cant say it is helping or not. The time until her services was horrible including the day she passed. The time sense is a fog.
I spend much of my day trying to ignore that she isnt here any more. The rest is spent thinking of her. My home phone we never use so I havent checked the voicemail in years. I was going through it
I find myself obsessed with a lot of things. With blood, with hurt, with the thin lines of pain streaming across my body. But with you? No. I am not obsessed.
Even though I can't breathe when you're not around and the sun doesn't shine as bright when you're gone. The birds don't sing and my heart feels heavy in your absence. Music doesn't make sense and words don't rhyme, the sky isn't blue and my heart isn't mine when you're not here. Obsessed? No. I am not obsessed.
My brain thinks
***The following post has a trigger warning for self harm. Though based on factual events, I am currently 75 days clean from self harm. Please take caution when reading this as it is very graphic and detailed.***
One cut.
It's not that deep. The sting is there, the blood trickles, the metal gleams in the light. I think to myself, 'what have I done?', but it's too late to go back now. I press on.
The second cut is a bit deeper.
There's more blood this time. It bubble
Fucking pissed,
Losing my mind.
I'm definitely gonna cut,
It's happening tonight.
Gonna cut and bleed,
Just as I cry.
Tearline, bloodline,
Watch it all drip away.
Feel the pain,
Feel the burn.
This is real,
And it hurts.
I don't care,
Cut away.
The pain is bad,
Drives me to cut deeper.
No regret,
I'm fucking done.
Cut so deep,
I can't remember.
Is there a vein?
Hey, how are you doing today?
I hope things are well, and things are okay.
I hope you see a future as bright as you,
Never look down, you must do what you do.
Be strong, be tough,
I know you have it in you.
Let's make them proud,
And show them what we can all do.
Give it our hardest,
To pass this test.
Though the most important thing is,
Try your best!
Do all you can,
Stand up real tall.
Show the world,
Because a really great friend sent me something to lift my spirits today and it helped, I think I should list the positives for the day (no matter how small)
I laughed today - I genuinely laughed and smiled. I dont even remember what for (probably a silly TikTok) but I did it and that is what matters.
No tears today - It hurts and I miss her still but I didnt cry and that is ok. It doesnt mean I dont miss her any more or less than the day before or that I have forgotten her.
I wa
Her husband seems to want to erase her from his life quickly. I just dont understand it. I know everyone grieves in their own way but he seems to want to erase every trace of her after her services. I am trying to hold on to every memory I can. Most of the time I am trying to keep her alive. Her things, I want them. Her pictures, I want them. Her things, I want them as she left them. At least let me accept that she is gone first.
So Sunday I am going to pack up her things. I am going to pa
I hate to admit it but i am struggling. The days between my mom's death and burial of her ashes were manageable. There was something to do each day. Now that is done, I find it harder to cope. I feel like I failed her on the last thing she asked of me. Daily I think of reasons to call her and each time is followed by she cant answer. I wanted to call her to share that her first great grandchild was born but I couldnt. He was born the night of her viewing. 12 hours before we were to put her ashe
