TW (CSA)
A hard thing for me about being a CSA survivor/victim is that it can be like living a double life.
I’ll stand in the supermarket check out line like I didn’t have a seriously effed up childhood, holding some discounted fruit. And no one around me knows that I’m trying to cope with the earth-shattering knowledge that my own mother and father were my abusers. And most other people seem to be waiting in line with their supplies as though they have no idea the pain that someone can inflict on another.
Some people sadly probably do know about this deep pain. However, we just wait there with our waiting faces, trying to get our food and go.
It’s like I’ve just survived a horrendous ship wreck and I’ve pulled myself to shore. My hair is matted, clothes hanging off, pale skin, dirty nails, shivering, no shoes, and a wild desperation in my eyes. And the people around me are just walking past.
The invisibility I feel as a survivor is no one’s fault, however it’s so strange living in a world where many others have no idea of the suffering I’ve experienced.
And the expectation is there that I should be a fully functioning adult with a job, neat little life, and average levels of happiness. When I’m still coming to terms with what I lost in a storm.
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"Mistakes"
"_ You're going to scream at me !"; Roared the small Cathar, eyes filled with unshed tears. Lana stopped dead in her tracks before kneeling at the young girl's height, reaching for her small hands. Sable was shaking, filled with anger, and behind this anger a terror Lana knew all too well. Sable reminded her of herself and those terrifying nights, those nightmares and shadows she was so afraid of. And she didn't want Sable to feel as she felt back then.
"_ Why would I scream at you sweetheart ?"; Calmly asked the Sith, gentle eyes setting upon her daughter. Sable hiccuped, rubbing her teary eyes with the sleeves of her jumper.
"_ Because I made a mistake !"; Lana caressed her small hands with her thumbs making sure the small one was looking at her. She kissed the back of her hands, pulling her into her arms.
"_ Everyone makes mistakes, Sable. And I'm not going to scream at you, or be mad at you. We'll talk about it and try to fix it together darling."
"_ But you never make mistakes..."; Sobbed the small Cathar, hiding into the Sith's arms, pressing her face into her gray woolen scarf. Lana chuckled slightly at that, pressing her forehead against hers.
"_ I did plenty and still do, sometimes. But I try to fix them and that's what matters. But no one is going to scream at you, I promise. I'm here, and I'll help you fix them."
My coping mechanism is to draw and write thingies about happy families so you're welcome I guess ? Lana Beniko and my Cathar child OC, Sable (She/Her) because I can.
(Sketch done on paper, colored on Krita. Do not use or repost ! Commissions open (drawings and writings))
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The Healing
~ Story by Stormi Dawn
She: It's beginning to make sense, this change inside of me.
He: You mean, growing in wisdom and understanding, learning what makes you - well... you?
She: Well, I've been trying to steady myself, but allow myself room to breathe. Like as I do, I'm finally bringing myself together, piece by piece.
He: So, does this unfolding surprise you about yourself? Are all the emotions, all the varied beliefs, accomplishments and failures, beginning to weave a more congruent line in behind and, most importantly, in front of you?
She: The things I think are out of place, I'm finally finding myself able to find the containers they properly belong in, but that's really just beginning. It just feels so neat. Until now, it's as if I had been scattered all about my history, emotions, bad people, and even across some melodies.
He: Is it like you're on a journey underneath all that is happening round and about you?
She: I don't know. It's just like...I think I'm finally healing... like somehow I'm finally setting myself free from all the bondage I've placed upon me.
He: Or, more likely, had placed upon you. [Clears throat] So, are you finding some moments you're actually present, where you can feel and cherish things?
She: It's hard. A lot. But it's happening more frequently. And I'm finding connections where I thought they'd long since past.
He: Are you laughing more often?
She: Yes, and genuinely.
He: Are you beginning to see the lessons more clearly as you navigate your history?
She: Moment by moment, and without all the searching. It's like these moments that come to me are finally setting me free as I figure them out and accept them without judgment. There's just so many!
He: Never healing the wounds means each encounter was even more devastating. It's like a wounded horse staying in a race, his rider not stopping even though the horse is down to three legs. Next you know, the horse starts to get worse and worse off, every gallop is bringing defeat to his body and spirit. As there rider keeps going, the horse rides on bravely obeying his rider and as the rider drives him farther, one small pebble or clump of dust might be all it takes for the horse to fall down completely.
She: So, like, never taking a pause to understand the injury completely, let alone heal. And blaming myself for even getting injured each time as I forced myself to go on without understanding or healing, only applying external disciplines.... that's what's been making me so hollow, detached, and empty within?
He: Exactly. Take all the time you need. Pretty unique you've made it this long functioning with the analogy, huh?
She: Geez. Guess it is. Is it unique that I'm healing these things?
He: That you've never stopped searching for a way to heal, without any proper resources or diagnoses or guidance... that you've held onto finding a way to heal, knowing deep inside something wasn't quite right - that you didn't give up trying for THIS long - that's very unique.
She: So, do you think I'm a bad person?
He: What do you think?
She: I don't think I am. But I think I could've been perceived that way by being so disassociated, so dead inside, so unaware, so shattered, so weird that everything was a tremendous struggle for me. Oh, and quite more naive to things than most adds even more to the complexities I've been navigating. Because, given my age and the current century, not many understand that I'm kinda like a cave man, outta sync, place, and time.
He: You're over explaining again. Do you feel like you need to justify saying you think you're not a bad person?
She: Yeah, I'm still pretty insecure about how I'm seen or, like, taken...or, mostly, I want people to understand I'm just ... really different.
He: [silently thinking, Oh, they know you're different, sweetie. But you're right on their assumptions, they don't understand your story. How could they? How could anybody?] That's why you make it funny. But you've still got work to do on your opening. You been practicing it lately?
She: No, I still have a hard time seeing myself when I look in the mirror some days. It's hard to remember who I am a lot still. But it's getting easier.
He: And more clear. And happening more often. Have you done any rehearsing as you fall asleep?
She: When I'm not lost in longing, yes, definitely.
He: Ah, yes, the longing. It's from spending so much of your life with CPTSD amnesia among other things. You are recalling the things you missed because you couldn't be present when they were happening. That's part of the healing too.
She: Yeah, it does get confusing and makes me wanna run away again.
He: You're figuring out what keeps you steady now, aren't you?
She: Some things. Things are slow some days. Those are when I heal the most and feel the most whole and present. But that madness, that running girl, well, she tempts me to keep up with her.
He: Are you able to talk to her directly yet?
She: No, but I'm learning how to calm her down.
He: You're getting there. I'm so proud for you. Keep up the good work, sweetie.
She: Always. [she winks]
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Coming to terms with the fact that my parents were flawed and didn't know how to deal with life, let alone show a child how to deal with life.
The older I get, the more I can see them from different perspectives. It's not nearly as black and white as I thought it was when I was a child.
They both had generational trauma and didn't know how to get out of that cycle. Then, my mom died, and my dad was lost in that grief. And if he didn't know how to deal with it, how was he supposed to show a child how to deal with it?
I mean, they shouldn't have had children before figuring their shit out. But they did. And I've made mistakes, too, because generational trauma is very hard to break.
I was so stuck on finding someone to blame, but in reality, it's a lot more complicated than that.
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My PTSD has not been this bad for quite some time.
My nightmares have been awful.
I woke at around 6 and I was so scared my foot slammed to the floor as I was ready to RUN.
I kept waking and trying to get out of it but kept falling back in and trying to escape but I couldn't.
My nightmares have been around for weeks.
Now the anxiety is now pounding through my ribs.
I sat and cried at the THOUGHT of leaving my house.
I sobbed because I am not safe.
I am not safe in my own body let alone out of the house.
I had to convince myself I was safe in my car.
I had to keep telling myself
I am safe
I am strong
I don't feel it though.
I don't want to sleep.
I want to eat so much comfort food but I can't do that because I am fat and that is upsetting me.
I'm to the point where I'm considering going to the doctor.
But I can't do that either.
I literally have a white board with five other issues that I need to see a doctor for, but I cannot leave the house right now.
I don't want to become agoraphobic again so I forced myself out.
But that want is still there.
I wish I had a permanent hood to hide behind.
I'm scared.
I feel like I'm dying.
I want to be fuelled by coffee like I used to. But I cannot go five days without sleep again and then just be encased in sleep paralysis. Or so hopped up on caffeine that I'm living in a constant anxiety attack.
I feel like I've taken 7,000 steps back.
I feel like so many years of my life were at mercy of these people who hurt me, now it feels like I'm ALLOWING that to happen again.
But also I know this isn't a choice...
I'm tired
I'm so tired...
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TW: Eating Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Complex Trauma
English Version below ⬇️
Alles wird wieder schwer.
Das Essen, weil du, in mir hungern musst. Weil es für dich nur das als Ausweg gibt. Ich kämpfe dagegen, damit es uns allen irgendwann besser geht.
Ihr seid immer da. Und es ist gut und schlecht zugleich. Ich fühle mich immer so fremd, da eure Gefühle, meine Gefühle werden. Ich kann es nicht aufhalten, und das fällt mir so schwer.
Wird man uns glauben? Oder nicht? Wer hält uns denn nicht für verrückt? Wer glaubt uns? Wer nimmt uns die Zweifel?
Es lastet so sehr auf mir. Auf uns allen. Verrückte Dinge passieren, ich kann keine Kontrolle übernehmen. Ich vergesse was ihr tut, egal wie sehr ich es wissen will.
Es tut mir Leid.
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Everything is going to be difficult again.
The food, because you have to starve in me. Because there is only that as a way out for you. I'm fighting against it so that we all feel better at some point.
You are always there. And it's good and bad at the same time. I always feel so strange because your feelings become my feelings. I can't stop it, and it's so hard for me.
Will they believe us? Or not? Who doesn't think we are crazy? Who believes us? Who takes away our doubts?
It weighs so much on me. On all of us. Crazy things happen, I can't take control. I forget what you do, no matter how much I want to know.
I‘m sorry.
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