ifuckign hate flashbacks i can feel everythign
he’s in my head he won’t leave he won’t leave he won’t leave
i can hear him yelling at me like he used to
i can see him smiling when I cry
****** please get out of my head please please please go away
i can’t stop crying im so scared
i don’tlike crying because he loved it when icried
but the tears won’t stop falling and i can feel the hallucinations starting to creep up on me
why do I have to relive it every single day why why why why
idon’t want to remember. ****** why did you do this to me why why why
note: please if you’re just here to say something disrespectful to try and invalidate my trauma, don’t bother. my trauma and pain isn’t a debate topic. im here to vent, record my feelings, etc.. not to be picked on, criticized, or start trouble.
14 comments
I was 6, I was 6. I don’t even know how you write about this stuff. I can’t even think about it without seeing spots and my head spinning. It takes courage to share what you have. I hope that all your efforts pay off.
6? fucking christ. the world is cruel. I’m so sorry. The abuse for me didn’t get physical until I was 14. It’s been going on since I was 8, more perpetrators than I can count. I find that the more I talk about it, the more I desensitize myself and make myself accept that it happened.. it’s really fucking hard, but it’s sure as hell helpful
Yes, the world is cruel. It honestly really angers me and I could say a few choice words about it all.
Physical or not, abuse is traumatic. What happened to you was not your fault. What happened to me was not my fault, logically I know that, but I’m still training my brain not to think I somehow played into it. I was manipulated, logically I know that.
Whatever you do, don’t give up.
I deal with the same guilt. I constantly ruminate on “what I could have done differently” or I search for red flags… but ****** is a clinical psychopath and is the most talented manipulator I have ever met in my life. Everything I loved about him was an illusion. There were literally no obvious red flags because of how terrifyingly flawless he is at doing the shit he does.
This is a vent, I came back and wrote this after I wrote it: I have psychotic nightmares about my tormentors every other day it seems, that is if I manage to get any sleep with my thought disorder keeping me awake and my neighbor cursing through the wall whenever the thing where I start talking to myself happens IN my sleep, I miss my soul mate, my mom is a dirty remorseless shithead quacked out abusive witch who reamed my brain until it was like a wad of gnarled up carpet string caught in a vacuum belt, and I took antidepressants that ripped my brain apart like a wet tissue in a blender when I was 17, I have been r***d so hard by life my continued existence itself is a vulgarity against mankind, but fuck… Wait, where was I going with this? Well, I wish I could say I still have a reason or a philosophy behind being here, but I don’t. My heart just doesn’t buy what my mind is selling it, for some reason it’s hanging on to “hope”. I don’t know where I was going with this comment, it just felt good to relate. I remember the days and nights I would spend screaming on my kitchen floor begging for mercy from the sick fucks who weren’t even there, in a strange town far away from my friends; as they all graduated school after my mother abandoned me, I was on my own while my mind and soul got sucked through the black hole the medications made inside of me, the part of me that got erased that I can’t get back, then I remember the girl who filled in the blank spots and I drove away, the incessant years of unnecessary torture and hiding from people who would r**e and shit in my brain because they could hear me… Because they can all hear me… Get out of my head get out of MY FUCKING HEAD you SLOBBERING JACKALS. I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU ALL. And finally I almost died once after being strangled and the only thing I felt or heard in my head after I passed out was “WHOO!”… Finally free for once. My brain never shuts off, just shut it the fuck up already, kill me. It’s like I’ve been drowning for an eternity, drowning and I cannot die sucking water out of an oily rag to survive, my brain feels like a fetid diaper at this point, I feel so contaminated, just KILL ME, kill me and let this be DONE WITH…
If I remember correctly you mentioned therapy. I really hope it helps. Not to scare you but from personal experience things like this can fester *hugs*
I know. 🙁 The therapy is really to just keep me from offing myself & help me deal with my dissociation. I don’t expect the trauma to ever go away, but I wanna try to lessen the symptoms
I found sharing helped. My mind would just play it over and over. After I wrote it down I felt better. After sharing it I felt better again. Is there anyone you trust? Maybe your therapist?
I’ve been in therapy since I was ~10. I went to residential treatment almost immediately after the the authorities got involved with the abuse in august. It’s been helpful. Except for the residential. Nobody there was licensed and it sucked.
I hate flashbacks, I get them too. It really sucks *virtual hug*
🙁 they do suck. What sucks is there’s not really a medication that actually curbs them, because it’s trigger based and not chemical based.
yeah. I heard that trauma does eventually become more mild though, so there is some hope i guess
Flashbacks were awful terrible for me. The abuse started at birth or 4 years old depending on how you look at it. Either way the trauma was off the charts. Disassociations and paranoia were part of my life for over 50 years. Enter the first actually useful therapist 7 years ago. In a few years the flashbacks went away. Those first several years of therapy actually saw an increased numbers of flashbacks due to sheer volume of dirt dug up in therapy but that did not discourage me because I believed my therapist was going to help me heal. Well she has.
I hope you have found a therapist that is compatible with you and skilled in EMDR and you find healing.
thank you for sharing your experience, it helps me feel less alone.