brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

I Hate My Antidepressants. (My Psalms of Depressions)

Dear God, 

I hate my antidepressants.  I hate that through the busyness of the day, I forgot to take one yesterday.  I hate that I woke up today feeling unloved. I hate that I have depression.  I hate that I have a chemical imbalance in my mind.  I hate that I have to take 50mg of Amitriptyline every single day.  I hate that there’s a stigma for antidepressants and mental illnesses.  I hate that you’re looked at with disgust or treated differently.  I hate that people think depression as a Christian has to do with a lack of faith.  I hate when I hear others call them “happy pills."  I hate the black shadow of shame that constantly follows me.  I hate that outgoing, bubbly Rebecca that comes out only when she takes blue pills.  I hate that the sun is out and it’s shining.  I hate that I’m called to love others when I can’t even love myself.  I hate that I even hate myself.  I hate that I feel like I’m a burden to my team.  I hate that I can’t feel your presence today. I hate that I don’t know my worth in you during these times.  I hate these feelings of agony and anguish.  I hate that tears are streaming down my face as I’m writing this to you.  I hate that there are feelings of sorrow and sadness that overwhelm my soul.  I hate that I can’t even describe how bad it hurts.  I hate that my pain reminds me that something’s wrong with me.  I hate that there’s something my body depends on other than you.

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

Challenging Cognition's.

I think that my therapist told me that I need to get control of my negative thoughts the first or second session we had. I could never bring myself to do it until just this week, and I began to wonder why. The truth is you have to fully be committed to healing, and I’m not saying that you or myself didn’t/don’t want to heal, but it is extremely scary to think about all of the changes and work that would have to be put into healing. Even if we know, that the way we think about ourselves, the things we do, aren’t healthy, it becomes our comfort zone. We put up walls, depression keeps us bound to our bed, and our anxiety takes over just to protect our self from feeling those feelings again, we don’t think that we are strong enough to face our PTSD, to face our trauma head on, to really let our self go there and experience all of the pain that is connected to our trauma. Healing isn’t something that happens overnight, and it’s not just one single choice we make to get healthy, healing is a lifestyle. I want you to know that it’s okay to be afraid, and sometimes we have to take our time, we have to almost build our self up to be able to really face the horrible things that happened to us. I also want you to know how freeing of a feeling it is when you start to challenge those negative thoughts that you have about yourself, your abuser, the world, your parents, anything and anybody. I can say that until I sat down and physically wrote down all of the negative thoughts that I have about myself and my life, I never noticed how demented they were. I didn’t realize how much power they had over me, and I am not going to let them torment me anymore. If you are struggling with thoughts that never seem to take a rest, I encourage you to do what I did, lay all of those thoughts of “I can’t do this.” “I’ll never be enough.” “I don’t deserve to be happy.” “I will be struggling forever.” “I can’t eat because I am ugly.” Spend a moment looking at them, then I want you to write truths next to them, “I can do this.” “I am always going to be enough.” “I deserve to be healthy and happy.” “This won’t last forever.” “I am beautiful.” Your thoughts don’t have to hold you back anymore, don’t listen to the voices of negativity, listen to the voice of truth. Once you conquer your thoughts darling, nothing can stop you.

#keepfighting #youarestrong #itwontlastlong #powerful #strength #freedom

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

Depression is a flaw in chemistry, not character.

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

It’s Okay Not To Be Okay.

I’ll be honest here for a moment, I’ve met a lot of people throughout my life who were very open and spoke about their depression, anxiety, things of that sort. I was very ignorant towards the subject, “is this even a real thing?” I would ask myself, I very idiotically thought that if the person would just go out with some friends or family, it would all be okay, after all, it probably isn’t as serious that they would make it out to be right? When I think about who I was then to the person I am today, I am ashamed that I thought that way, I was just like many people in this world who believe that if you were a better person or made better decisions you wouldn’t struggle with your depression, or if you weren’t so dramatic you wouldn’t experience anxiety. Shame on me. As a person today, living with PTSD, anxiety, and depression, my eyes are so much more open to the topic. The truth about the things that I just listed about myself, is that it’s a form of mental illness. Why is it that when people talk about those things everyone gets quiet? We tell ourselves if we’ve had a stressful few months trying to juggle work, children, family, relationships, etc, that we should treat ourselves or give ourselves a break. We say take that bubble bath, go out and have a drink with friends, stay in pajamas all day and watch TV, because our physical health is important isn’t it? If we experience a death in the family, we are told to rest and take time alone to take care of our emotional health. So why is taking care of our mental health any different? Why aren’t we talking about it? Why does society and those around us make us feel like we are crazy, or just a person with a label on them? Here’s some facts for you, those struggling with mental illness, don’t just make it up to get attention, actually, we would prefer not to let someone know that we struggle with it. It’s a literal chemical imbalance in your brain, it isn’t something that can be controlled, mental illness doesn’t work a 9 to 5 job somewhere else then comes to torment when it’s off the clock, it is a spontaneous, long or short lasting feeling and we can experience it at any given time of the day or night. As someone who struggles with mental illness personally, I know that it’s not the easiest thing to talk about, but the way I can describe it, is as this; I am always standing in a muddy and rain filled puddle, there are days that I am in deep enough for it to touch my knees, there are days when it’s only to my ankles. Sometimes, I have one foot in, and the other on the pavement. It’s a battle everyday, to get out of bed, to go out, to eat, to do anything. But I am here to tell you that you aren’t alone in your struggles, there is myself and countless other people who are experiencing the same tribulations as you. Mental illness has nothing to do with who you are as a person, the decisions you’ve made and the ones you didn’t, it has to do with the hurtful things that have happened to you, and I bet if you could change it, you would. I also am here to tell you that whatever diagnosis you have attached to you, won’t be there forever. Think about where you were 3 months, 6 months, or even a year ago... You aren’t the same as you were are you? It’s a process, but keep fighting, it will get better. Never be ashamed of your mental illness, don’t be afraid to talk about it because of how you think people will react. Talk about it, get it out, challenge those negative cognition's that you have, do whatever it is that will make YOU feel better, because sweetheart, time, taking care of yourself, and fighting is the only thing that is going to get you through, and you deserve to take care of your mental health just as you would in any other department in your life. You can do this.

#fighter #depressing thoughts #happiness #anxitey #ptsd recovery #mental illness

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

Let whatever you do today be enough. Let go of the judgement you have about what you should be or could be doing, and today, allow yourself to simply BE. Quiet the voice telling you to do more and be more, and trust that in this moment, who you are, where you are at, and what you are doing, is enough.You will get to where you need to be in your own time. Until then, breathe. Breathe and be patient with yourself and your process. You are doing the best you can to cope and survive amid your struggles, and that’s all you can ask of yourself. Its enough. You are enough.

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

Responsibility.

Guilt: 1. the fact or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, esp. against moral or penal law. 2. a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined. Shame: 1. the painful feeling of having done or experienced something dishonorable, improper, foolish, etc.

I am a very logical thinker, I find comfort in being knowledgeable. Although I realize that every persons sexual trauma is different, we all share some similarities in the healing portion. One of my personal struggles is feeling responsible and ashamed of and for my rape, and until I said it out loud, I didn’t notice how demented it sounded, and how much power it has over me. I think that self-blame can be separated into two categories; character self-blame, and behavioral self-blame. The first being that we focus on characteristics, repeated experience of negative events suggests that there is something in us that makes the events happen. We believe that it happened to us because of who we are, we might even believe that we were singled out because of some deviation of our character, and the trauma was the punishment. Now the other refers to blaming the negative outcomes on behaviors and choices. If we believe that a different behavior could have produced different outcomes, we actually believe in our own ability to control and direct situations, by realizing that something happened because of “bad” behavior. It also fosters the idea that it can be avoided in the future, behavioral self-blame reduces therefore the perception of vulnerability. The belief that a change in behavior will reduce the likelihood of re-occurrence of an event, and victims find comfort in that. The truth is self-blame promotes the belief in the ability to control, change, and or avoid negative outcomes. Believing that the future can be different, promotes positive feelings of control and motivation.  We constantly invest our thoughts in finding strategies that can be applied in the future and or similar circumstances, strategies that can help avoid re-victimization. On the same token, those thoughts are crippling to victims. Self-blame can raise anger and hate towards ourselves, the anger rises due to the thought that we could have done something to prevent the tragedy, and yet it still happened. So I ask why do victims try to create meaning and understanding of our assaults? And why do we feel we brought it upon ourselves? I believe that self-blame tendencies originate due to modern society’s theory of free will. Modern society tries to push the belief that one is responsible for one’s life, and If one is responsible for one’s own life, than one is also responsible for anything that goes wrong in it. Self-blame originates from this simple principle. The question that needs to be debated is how much free will do we actually posses? Shouldn’t we take situational factors into account before we blame the victim, or before the victim blames himself or herself? The truth is that the shame and guilt of a sexual assault can get so intense, it is difficult to escape. Pick your head up, if you were assaulted and you are reading this right now YOU DID THE RIGHT THING, because you stayed alive. Do not be silenced by your shame and guilt, don’t let the fear of someone being uncomfortable or embarrassed of your story keep you quiet. You are not responsible for what happened to you, it is that silence that re-victimizes rape victims, over and over again, and you shouldn’t be silent anymore. When you are feeling responsible for your rape, look up the definitions of shame and guilt, and read it over and over, 25 times if you need to, and keep fighting.

#truth #warrior #survivor

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

You are worthy of recovery.

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

The Real Truth.

Quite frankly I’m pissed off, the only thing people say about rape is that you shouldn’t shower, change your clothes, or brush your teeth after. You are to go to the hospital, press charges, terminate any possibility of pregnancy, get help and you’ll be fine. Well I am calling it, calling bullshit on it all. Nobody talks about after the assault how you feel like total garbage and the only way you think you’ll feel better is if you burn the clothes, brush your teeth 15 times, and shower for hours, trying to get the scent off of yourself. Nobody tells you about the PTSD, the insanely intense fear that keeps you bound to your bed because you are terrified you’ll see your offender again, the nightmares you’ll get and how they will keep you awake for days, because you’ll do anything to make sure you don’t see it again. They don’t tell you that you’ll develop crippling anxiety that keeps you from going to Walmart to get the basic needs for life, the eating disorder you’ll develop, the depression that hits you like a truck, and the feeling that you’ll never get better. We are just supposed to figure everything out and become an advocate for others, right? I made the decision to go get an STI screening, I felt that everyone in that building was just making assumptions about me, I am obviously just another young person who is coming to get tested because I was concerned about my health due to the fact that I didn’t use a condom, or that I sleep around. None of them would be able to even fathom how hard that was for me, that I was so desperate to have a small piece of information in hopes that it would put my mind at ease. As the nurse kept asking me questions about my sexual history, I was doing okay up until “When’s the last time you engaged in sexual activity?” In my head I was thinking what would she say if I told her the answer to her question was when I was raped, and no I have not had sex since then because I am disgusted with myself. Why should I have to go through that? I am not normally the one to feel bad for myself but I have been safe and smart my entire life, but because some man hurt me in ways that I can’t even put into words, I may have to deal with a long term infection on top of everything else? Someone explain to me how that’s fair. It shouldn’t be like this, I shouldn’t be like this, why do I have to continue to pay for that mans actions? I am so angry, he is sick, he is an awful person, but the crazy thing is that I still feel like it’s my fault. Maybe I should have known, I shouldn’t have went there that night, and I am scared I’ll be paying for it for the rest of my life.

#fear #anger #tired of everything

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

Shock.

The day after… what do I do now? Out of all the answers someone could have given me, my final decision was to get myself to class. “You are so close to finishing.” I told myself as I packed my bag and headed out the door. I threw up three times that morning, am I getting whatever was slipped in my drink out of my system, or was it expected of me considering what I went through. I walked into my school with my head hanging low, hoping that if I just put my head into my books, it won’t be real right? I tried SO hard to make that day feel like a typical day, that was impossible considering the fact that I sat next to my very best girl friend, every class, everyday. My boyfriend got all of my broken messages and began to flood me. I didn’t blend in for long, “Do you need to talk?” she said to me, as I stared into space and nodded yes. I don’t think any of my speaking made sense that morning, but she and my boyfriend were very persistent in making sure I went to the ER. I debated for a while before I made a decision, what could it hurt? They may have more answers for me. Off we went, as we entered our local hospital, I felt like it was written all over my face, “They know, they have to. I am garbage.” I said to myself as I was getting taken back with a ID badge attached to my wrist. A nurse comes back and tells me they have to send me to another hospital because they did not have a forensic nurse at that specific establishment. I thought that was my ticket to get the hell out of that place, jokes on me because they had to send me via emergency vehicle. Could this day get any worse? I am causing a scene, people are going to think that I am seriously ill, or maybe a hypochondriac. Entered the next hospital with papers in hand from the first, as I handed it to the receptionist.. She asked me why I was there. Excuse me? You’d like me to explain why I am at this hospital in front of the other 15 people in the waiting room because you are to lazy to read the papers I just handed you? I think that now, but then, I literally stood still with a blank look on my face. I was taken to the back, to meet my forensic nurse, very nice woman, she made me feel I think the most comfortable a person could make me feel at that point in time. The questions began to start as I asked my friend to leave the room, I can’t even put into words the thoughts and emotions that were running through my head in that moment, while she proceeded to do a physical exam to collect samples for the rape kit. After all was said and done, I asked if she was going to draw blood or take a urine sample from me, she said she would get the doctor who was on the ER shift that day. The physician comes in, begins to tell me that they do not have the resources to test blood and or urine for substances. Don’t have the resources? I said as I begged her for a needle and tube, “I can do it myself believe me, I have already went through my phlebotomy training.” She repeated her statement, apologized and walked out of the room, I shattered. How is that even so? They must not believe me, they think that I am only here because I want to clean up a mistake I made. I have never felt so unjustified in my life. I specifically remember the time being right before the hospitals shift change (2pm).  Nurses kept coming in telling me I need this drug, that drug, a plan B, and three more drugs on top of those that prevent STDs, and do they need to call the police and have a officer be dispatched to talk to me about pressing charges.They must have come into my room about 5 times after I said that I needed time to think and process. I was raised pro-life my entire life, I have never had an STD, and I know how hard those drugs can be on the body, especially whats used for HIV prevention. What if I am pregnant? If I take the plan B does that no longer make me pro-life? If I don’t take it will my boyfriend stay? I just wanted everything to stop, I got so fed up with the constant nagging of the nurses, I took all of the medication, every last one. I told my friend to get me out of there, I was done. That day I learned the true definition of shock.

#survivor #fighter #love #peace

[brokenvictimtobeautifulsurvivor]

The Clocks Were My Sanity.

The day started the same as any other, it was a Sunday and I was working an all day shift at the restaurant I was a server at. A text came to my phone from a casual friend that I’ve know for about three years, he had just became a father and it had been awhile since we have had the opportunity to catch up. “Hey we should link up this evening.” the message reads, I was a little hesitant but I responded, “I can stop by after work”. I mean this man and I had no desire to be more than just friends, we never have. After all he’s the father of a beautiful baby girl and plans to marry her mother. When I arrived he greeted me at the door, to my surprise his daughter and fiance were no where to be found, I didn’t think twice about it though, we’ve spent time alone a few times before this. The movie Tarzan was on the television and the house was dark, we began to converse about work and other things, when he asked me if I would like a drink. I was driving that evening and I never want to take that risk but, whats one?  He gave me my cup and he had his, as we are sitting on the couch I see the time on the televisions DVR box at 7:11 PM, all at once I felt like I was hit by a truck, I couldn’t hold my head up and the room was spinning. I started to slur my words and I felt very dizzy, I asked him if I could go to the restroom and he told me where it was, I tried to stand up but lost my balance. He then proceeded to walk me to the bathroom and I shut the door behind me, I remember my blurry reflection in his mirror and I didn’t know what was happening, I opened the door and he was there waiting for me, he walked me back to the couch and I asked what was going on but, I didn’t hear a response. To my surprise I woke up in his bed without my clothes on, I am looking around the room trying to figure out where I am and what is going on, and I began to see a vague red sequence of numbers, and then I realized I had the perfect view of an alarm clock on his dresser, the time read 7:50 PM. I looked up and saw his body standing over me, his face wasn’t clear but his words were. He was speaking filthy a derogatory comments to me, like he expected me to enjoy what was happening. Everything goes blank again, and then I wake up to him on top of me, the time was 3:35 AM. The last and final time I woke up I was on my side, with his arms around me tightly, I could feel him breathing on my neck. “Has he finally passed out?” I asked myself as I desperately searched for those red numbers again, this time it read 4:45 AM. My mind was racing, I was in shock, I had no idea what had just happened to me, the only thing I knew was that I needed to get out. “Don’t move until you have a plan.” I told myself, I began to think about where all of my belongings could have ended up. The window of his bedroom was open, and as I was laying there I could hear the rain falling, and the cars driving by. If I move, what am I putting myself at risk for? If I wake him he could assault me again or really hurt me, “No you have to get out.” I kept telling myself, trying to build up the courage to take the chance. I oh so gently moved his hands from off of me, I was finally out from underneath his arms and I began to crawl on the floor hoping he wouldn’t see me, trying to obtain my glasses and clothes. My cellphone was on the floor next to my sandals, I grabbed them in a hurry, put my pants and bra on while still on the floor, and after I made it to the door of his bedroom I began to walk down the hallway. The wooden floors started to creak, and I trembled. With everything in hand I just decided to run, I grabbed my keys off of the dinning room table where I had left them earlier and kept going, as I made it to the stairs I saw my long awaited exit, the door was so close but when I got there I was shaking so much I couldn’t open it right away. Out the door and to my car I got, and I’ve never sped off so fast in my life. Although my motor skills were off, I was highly alert. On the way home I don’t remember my thoughts, to be honest I don’t think I had any, I just wanted to get somewhere safe. I drove that 20 minute way across town that felt like forever, and finally I am home, I crept into the house and got into my bed, feeling numb and still completely blank minded, idiotically hoping that I would get sleep, but I am home.

#survivor #fighter #peace #love