Hey my friends ! I really wanna know how everybody’s doing. What’s something that made you laugh this past week? Did you run into an old acquaintance? How is life right now ?
I think i might suffer from ptsd And my relationship with my father is pretty bad. We’ve never been really close especially after some events that happened in my childhood. Long story short, verbal and physical abuse. He even used to beat my cat. At best, he would totally ignore my existence, greeting everyone on the table except me, at worst call me a dog in front of guests, whispering that i was digusting. I was pretty badly beaten by my sibling n he n my mum would make me apologize everytime that happened. It was pretty rough man. Sometimes i wonder how i made It out alive. I’m pretty weak personality and emotions wise. I’ve learned how to be obedient so now we just act like nothing happened. I laugh when he makes jokes, greet him with a smile, listen to his crap. Overall, I’m just really afraid of him. Whenever we’re alone, I feel my heart tightening up n time moves slowly. I just can’t take it anymore. I feel like a waken person living with zombies. They act as if nothing happened n I have to fucking play along. Today, my dad called me couldn’t stop fucking talking about what he did today then he started lecturing me about communication skills and how I should be forgiving. Man, something inside me just cracked. Some pretty violent ideas came through my mind, I fucking hate him, I hate this, everything. I fucking wanna die. He destroyed every little piece of self esteem I’ve tried building these days. Now back to point 0. God help me, idk what to do anymore. I have some very important exams coming up, and I’m so behind. I wanna get out of here, I wanna go home, i wanna feel warmth n love. Being severely depressed doesn’t help. There’s just nothing in me. Please I need advice, somebody help me out I beg you.
a phrase I would often say to myself
I’m really losing my mind and i don’t know what to do. i just can’t get used to this feeling, the sadness, the hopelessness. I feel nothing. The only two emotions that exist in my mind are anger and sadness. I don’t wanna die but Im extremely tired. My psychiatrist prescribed antidepressants , but i don’t know i’ve read so many bad things abt them. I’m afraid that they would change me or make me « dumber ». If someone has already tried em, please help me out.
don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me DON’T TOUCH ME
my skin is fucking crawling. he’s here again. he’s in my blood, in my bones. he’s in my room, but he’s not. his hands are cold. ****** please leave me alone. pleasep lease please pleaseplease leave me al one,,..
i can hear him again. i can hear him. a broken record, repeating over and over all the things he said
i can feel the razors. it burns it burns it burns it burns makeit stop please, ******
my body is a trauma graveyard and these scars are the gravestones
please stop ican’t breathe you’re hurting me, ******. you’re hurting me. you’re hurting me again.
“please don’t confuse me wanting your body as the only reason I talk to you” – ******, my abuser.
the person who said that to me is the same person who forced me to dig a razor into my face. the same person who made me carve his name into my thigh.
i am nothing but my body and i have come to accept that.
i am good for nothing.
“i love you for more than just your body”
bullshit. BULLSHIT. ****** wasn’t the first to say that. he was one of many, i say many because ~8 years (excluding ******) worth of abusers isn’t something i can translate into a number. because i’ve lost count.
the ONLY reason anyone is EVER “interested” (romantically) in me is because of my fucking body.
they use me. they get bored. they discard me.
this is why i hide.
disclaimer; this is going to be a post where I talk about my personal faith journey. If you believe differently, it’s not for you. I fully support and advocate for your right to call me wrong, but I’m a little raw so if you have to, do it politely and respectfully. If this isn’t your thing, the back button is a very effective workaround.
I don’t know how many apostate Christians have this experience;
You wake up on a Sunday morning, and you’re feeling so blah about everything that you put a church service on the screen. Every song, every plea for donations through the meat and potatoes of a church service remind you of what is wrong with Christianity, and why you are an apostate. Then the sermon comes around and speaks specifically, frustratingly so to where you are in your faith journey. Often times prayer seems like a one sided conversation, and talking to others about faith is all we get in return.
Simply put; I don’t expect anything out of God. ANYTHING to be clear is more than I expected. I don’t doubt his ability, I doubt his initiative and willpower because I’ve seen prayers he answers, and those he lets die and it isn’t remotely predictable. Today’s subject was “cancel the funeral”, all about not giving up on your dreams. See, Hope is a toxin I already overdosed on. I can’t actually believe it is going to get better unless it is. We’ve got to work with where we are. God can be part of that conversation, in fact I welcome and beg him for such participation, but in my life it’s been sporadic.
Irony (or not) giving up on trying to work with the fundamentally broken society I live in is my one suicidal dream. I’m trying to do it without dying, and it isn’t easy. What I’ve figured out is that the majority of normal people are fundamentally complacent. They believe that things will work out well, because if they didn’t they’d end it because it’s a pretty darn bleak world. That’s toxic, and trying to call it faith is fooling yourself. Lying to yourself is not growing closer to God, it’s putting in things that will hobble your relationship.
Not that I have any room to claim a healthy relationship with God. For the past eight years I have not tithed, attended church regularly, or any of the “active efforts” Christians are supposed to do. I’m functionally agnostic, because I don’t get how throwing away 10% of my income elevates the kingdom of God, when most churches spend it on newer buildings, concert quality broadcast equipment, coffee shops in the lobby. In short, I’ve yet to find a church that is faithful with tithes as they expect their followers to be. It’s all hollow Reagan era self aggrandizement.
So this is me; ready for God whenever and however he wants to manifest, but not capable of betraying my basic beliefs to be part of a hypocritical movement. I get better compassion and empathy out of atheists and other agnostics, because THEY understand why people are leaving the church. There’s a great hunger for an honest faith, but Christianity is a long way away from being able to see it.
my day consists of getting stuck in flashbacks and losing track of time.
i am too exhausted to feel anything but misery and dread.
i want to tear open my flesh.
i want to see my own blood.
i want to destroy the place on me that he forced me to carve so that his name is no longer visible.
i want to feel that piece of me torn away.
i want to feel that freedom.
the way my blood ran cold every time you threatened me
the way that the blade felt as i dug it into my flesh to form the letters of your name
the way the candle wax burned as it hit my skin
the way that the acidic feeling in my throat would linger when you made me film myself purging
the way i would try to speak clearly between sobs in those videos you forced me to make, the ones where i apologized to you
the way you talked me out of taking my life in front of you, not out of love, but out of your desire to keep me as a pet
the way you told me that killing myself was selfish, that you needed me to stay
the way i begged you to make the pain stop as i dragged a razor down my face, over and over, while you told me to smile
the way you manipulated me
the way you abused me
the way that i continue to recall those memories against my will,
all of it is torture.
I’ve always struggled with insomnia? But lately it has evolved. I am not sure when it became my primary coping mechanism but it is like an anchor now. It stops me from being pulled down river but if a big wave comes I almost drown. The longer I’m awake the slower life goes. I feel like everything moves so quickly and I can’t keep up. Like I’m picking between two types of drowning.
So I choose to steal quiet moments in exchange of my sanity. The less I sleep the longer my days. The less I sleep the longer I can avoid dealing with the next day. I know it isn’t healthy but I just need something that feels familiar. I feel so helpless.
there’s nothing more terrifying than returning to your body only to realize that hours have passed and you can’t remember anything that happened during that time period. being co-conscious and watching an alter take the front when I’m trying to do something important is the most frustrating shit. i’m the host. i don’t like relinquishing control of the front (not like I have a fucking choice) because i am in control the majority of the time. the worst part is that the particular alter that keeps taking the front is RARELY co-conscious so she literally just jumps in for 20 minutes, has no idea what the fuck is going on, and goes away for however long.
don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me
i can feel his hands around my neck he won’t let go he won’t let go he won’t let go
****** im sorry im sorry im sorry
he’s not really here but i can still feel everything
he was never here
******, how have you found me? how do you continue to torment me? i haven’t spoken to you since late september
i will never be able to forget the feeling of a razor being dragged down my face
over. and over. and over.
it still burns.
you said to me that i’d learn to love you
and i did.
but, no matter how hard i try
i can’t seem to un-learn.
****** im so sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry. im sorry for ******* *** **. please don’t get **** ** ******. i broke my promise to ******* ***. i couldn’t ******* **** either. im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry
why am i sorry
why am i apologizing
to the person who destroyed me
what the fuck is wrong with me?
you did unspeakable things to me. things i will never be able to forget or erase from this body. i still have the scars, your name included. i still have the wax burns.
i love you but i fucking hate your guts. you’ve taken everything from me yet your manipulation lingers and deep down, I can’t get rid of that slave-like loyalty i have for you. i can’t get rid of the feelings. they conflict with my hatred for you. my contempt. my rage. im completely broken.
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.
my fa ult myfault my fault myfaultmyfaultmyfault my fa ult myfault my fault my fault my faultmy fault myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault
his name is censored and the lines have been recolored for safety reasons. i’m a minor. please don’t sexualize any of this. please. this is vent art that I made during the time I was being abused. everything written was taken straight from voice memos, emails, and messages.
edit: how many times do i have to reiterate that this wasn’t a relationship. leave me alone. please.
that uneasy something-is-about-to-happen feeling grabs me by the throat,
“all of them are the same. all of them are the same. trust no one.”
i can’t look adult men in the eyes. i can’t stand within arms reach of them. i can’t have a one-on-one conversation with them. i can’t ask anything of them, even if it’s something as simple as asking for directions. i can’t trust them.
it fills me with guilt. i don’t want to fear them. i can’t control it. i’m even wary of family members (not immediate).
i can’t undo the years of trauma, i can’t erase it. i was abused at an early age and it continued for 9 years.
i hate feeling at fault for a phobia that I lack control over.
i’m tempted to do it; to take a butcher’s knife and just cut off the flesh in which his name is engraved. i would take back my power and erase him from me. this vessel is no longer mine. i want to tear off my skin. i feel ashamed and disgusting to have ever been in his control. i have not yet figured out how to un-train myself to sit, stay, and lay down. the fear is embedded in my soul and my entire being.
i’m tempted to do it, if i’m lucky i might just bleed out
I can’t take it
i can’t I can’t i can’t
get out of my head
get out of my head
get OUT OF MY HEAD
I hate him
why did he do this to me?? why did he make me do all those things?? i want to tear my flesh open my skin is fucikgin crawling
I HATE YOU ****** you took EVERYTHING FROM ME
YOU TURNED MY 8 YEARS OF ABUSE INTO 9. THIS BODY IS NO LONGER MINE, YOUR NAME IS ENGRAVED IN IT.
im at my fucking breaking point. i’m VERY close to making an extremely irreversible impulsive decision. would that make you happy, ******???? oh wait, you tried to STOP ME FROM IT AFTER YOU MADE ME SLICE MY FACE OPEN. GOD FORBID THAT YOUR PRECIOUS SACRIFICIAL LAMB C O M M I T S S U I C I D E! then who will you have to torture and destroy???
im in so much pain please make it stop