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  1. 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? We all hope for that, I'm sure. I won't get into everything, as it's pretty traumatizing, but t
  2. Celia

    Naive

    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 patience cutting thin. And just as I am, Naive and not smart. I say yes to ever
  3. 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? One or two. Maybe three, I don't care, If I cut, say I never knew.
  4. It's official, She's gone away. Blocked my account, Can't see my name. She left the doc, Both of them. Can't see her pic, Cause she's gone for good. Lost all her friends, She blocked them too. Even my close friend, Now she's fucking confused. Texting me like crazy, I'm going out of my mind. Blaming me for what happened, But said she's on my side? Said it's alright, She said it's all fine. "You did the right thing, I'm by your side." But she doesn't text me for
  5. Hi everyone. I'm not new here, I've been gone for a few months, but I'm back, alot of new names, I'm sorry for what has brought you all here. I thought I was doing ok, I thought i was handeling life ok, not great but ok. I got myself through day to day life in one piece, and have been there for my daughter and her health struggles. My counselor had her own mental breakdown and was gone for 6 months, she's back now, but i don't know if it feels the same. I don't blame her for breaking down, even the strongest of people break eventually when too much is thrown at them. For her she tel
  6. ***Please skip this if you're generally uncomfortable with talk of periods, bleeding, medical procedures involving the female reproductive system. I'm trying to make this mild and non-triggering but you just never know. So proceed with caution!*** Okay, guys, I'm nervous. Ain't gonna lie, I'm seriously trying to swallow the lump in the back of my throat, with my new doctor's name on it. If the roles were reversed, I'd probably be the one saying, "it'll be all right, it's gonna be uncomfortable for a few minutes, but then it'll be over with...your health is more important than be
  7. RubyRosie

    19 - PTSD

    So, I've had ptsd for a while now. Since the accident 9 years ago. I was moving when I got hit from behind. Like all my stuff was packed I. The back of my truck. And then my whole life just exploded. For a long time I thought my brain was broken. Like wtf was wrong with me that I could survive so much. So much neglect, abuse, just all the shit. All the very personal, directed at me shit. But a random asshole from outta nowhere hits me and my brain starts to crumble? Like it was so impersonal. Random as fuck. Why is THIS the thing that breaks my brain? And so I felt like that for
  8. I'm on a roll, it seems, with these blogs. I simply have too much time to think these days. It seems it's all I do. When something baffles me - this is my drawing board. I'm reminded of the evidence room whiteboard with scribbled notes and pictures and the strings connecting one to the other....that is an accurate assessment of my brain right now. There's all this information, all these images. I know there's more to it, and so I'm constantly and obsessively going over it. Over, and over again. First off, I wanna thank those who provided me with the requested hugs and who checked i
  9. purge

    TW: swearing, anger

    fuck you and fuck your bullshit apology you can shove it up your ass
  10. purge

    ...

    so far has not been good it's been shitty
  11. Hello, all. Did you all enjoy NOT hearing about my schoolwork? I hope so, because I HAVE enjoyed not bitching about certain classes and papers that I really didn't want to write. Of course, these were for the 'required' classes not pertaining to my social work major and it would only be natural for me to complain about those. I will say though, that when I return to campus in a couple weeks, I'll be TRYING to refrain from giving my (former) Government professor a glare for giving me the only B grade of my last semester - it was a damned B-PLUS, he couldn't have let me have the A-minus
  12. It would be nice to have a chance to sit down and deal with my current issues without more shit piling on top of it. I know it’s life but this whole journey is becoming to much again. It’s like walking down a path of broken glass, your feet are bleeding and all cut up and you turn down another path only to find out there’s more glass on the road. You don’t have any other way to go so you have to keep going forward even though there’s glass on the road and if you go back there’s still gonna be glass on the road! To add to the bullshit I now might be a diabetic. I’m experiencing
  13. Writing out these thoughts has been tough, not just because I'm finally coming to terms with a part of my childhood I forso long hoped would just disappear, but I'm having trouble putting it down in words. And I know that at some future date when I am comfortable with the idea of sharing this blog's contents with Ls and Lb, I don't want to hurt them more. Even now, all these years later, I'm trying to shield them from the pain my csa may cause them. I know I'm not responsible for it. I cannot continue to play the roll of preschooler RR, taking care of everyone else's feelings like my own don't
  14. I've been writing this blog for a while now and I have a few observations. Some were expected, others surprising. Occasionally (either while I'm just thinking about what to write or, much less often, while I'm actually writing,) when something happens that reminds me of mychildhood - a smell, a sound, etc) I burst into tears, reminded of how I felt as a kid. It's been happening several times a week. This usually only lasts a few minutes. I feel profoundly sad for the young RR. It's like I'm feeling all this now because I'm allowed to feel this now. Sometimes I don't know what the myste
  15. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and have come to the conclusion that my mother wasn't just merely neglectful, did not just simply "fail to protect me." She actively sexually abused me. I have a knot in my stomach as I write this. Today was the first time I've ever said that out loud. I said it to my T. I've always thought about it in terms of her being mean and rough and slapping me around. For some reason I've never seen it like that before. I've been thinking and thinking about it and can't really call it anything else. There's a word for it. A heavy two word term. I
  16. It is a good day. My husb and I are in town at Walmart shopping. I remember we were in a good mood, flirting with each other. Unsuspecting, we casually walk down the deodorant aisle. Like bees we sample some of the offerings, slightly opening the lids just a crack, enough to smell the contents, sharing the ones we liked, then jamming the sticks back in those springloaded deodorant holder thingys. "Do I want to smell like this?" "How about this one?" "Do you want me to smell like this or this? Which one is better?" "I don't know...which do you like better?" I lik
  17. Hi I'm Yib. I'm just a girl that a fucked up thing happened to. Its been over 10 years, but it I didn't even come to terms with it until like 5 years ago. Guess I'm finally ready to talk.
  18. Hi, all! I REALLY should be studying for final exams right now. I do have three this week that I'm NOT toooooo worried about, content-wise. I know the material, I'm confident I'll be fine with these three. There will be two next week that this coming weekend will be devoted to studying for. Although I'm likely fine, the over-achieving side of me is thinking, 'I am NOT finished until I turn in my last final exam...' I came home from school today (we had a snow day yesterday) with intentions to open up a book and start cramming as much information as possible into my brain - but sa
  19. Hi, everyone. It feels like the last couple of months has gone by in a blur. I'm starting to realize the true meaning of the statement, 'too much time on your hands.' When I had it, (it being time) my mind wouldn't shut up. I had so much more to say. I looked at things sooooo differently. I'd have TIME to sift through whatever was swimming around in there - now, all that's in there is numbers, formulas, political definitions, social work case studies (hypothetical ones), papers that would be coming due, and the neverending, bottomless threat of that thing called 'exams.' Never mind
  20. This is also posted in Share Your Story. The three installments are now posted in order there, and the board is now open to responses, but you may respond either here, or there, if you wish! As always, please heed the trigger warnings above - and thank you in advance for reading! Normal blogs will resume very soon, as my OCD self wanted these installments to be in order, without 'interruptions.' And so, without further ado: Installment Three: After It might make the most sense to say that this third installment began when I opened my eyes on the morning of October 5th in 19
  21. Also posted in Share Your Story: Installment Two: The Party I am now fast-forwarding, (or rewinding, depending on how old I was in your minds upon completing reading of the first installment) to when I was seventeen years old as I bring to you all, installment 2 of my story. This is the full, uncensored version of what was shared back in 2007. One would think that as time goes on, you’re likely to forget some details. While that may be the case for some, I WISH that was true for me. Time has gone on, but in some ways, remained stationary – frozen, almost
  22. Also posted in Share Your Story: Installment One: The Formative Years I was born on a snowy winter morning in 1978. Originally, I wasn’t planning to reveal my age – but felt there was some importance in divulging the time frame. I DO believe that there is FAR more awareness now than there was back then. Maybe, just maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe it would have set off an entirely different chain of events. Maybe I wouldn’t be writing this, now. As life is full of too many maybes and not enough definites, I’ve decided to chuck the what-ifs into the (digital)
  23. I had a dream last night. Wasn't too bad a dream. Unless you consider a glimpse at the pathetic being that I called Uncle for 40 years. It was also a short dream. It took place at a holiday gathering. I want to say it was Christmas - only because that's the first thing that comes to mind. My mother (Oompa) was there. My Dad, my step-parentals. My kids. The wasband's crew was not there, though. My sisters and their spouses (yes, even the one who might not be her spouse much longer) and my nephew and two nieces. And also in attendance was the Most Reverend McNasty and hi
  24. Hello, everyone! I am hoping this finds you all well. While I am doing fine health-wise, I'm not doing so great with my sleeping. There are some days when I think I've got it all under control and then there are other days when I revert back to what has grown to be all too familiar. While food shopping last week, I found a bottle of NyQuil that is set to expire in three months - it was marked down to $2, so I grabbed it. I have it sitting on my desk as a reminder to go to sleep when the clock passes 2-3am. It sometimes hits 4 before I'll feel tired. Ideally, I'd want to take
  25. Well, I finally decided it was time to write again. My life has been hell to say the least for the last week. I am on medication and a lot all for my mental health. i have meds that help with my PTSD, anxiety, anti depressants, sleeping, nightmares/ flashbacks,, hallucintations/voices, a medication to help with the sideaffects and one that is supposed to inhance the meds that i take. i hate taking medication but i know i need them and have come to accept that fact. well, i pick up my meds for two weeks at a time. so naturally i go in last thursday to pick them up. they werent ready and they h
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