Abuse Survivor - Tumblr Posts - Page 4
do u have a normal relationship with your mother or do you have to imagine yourself violently murdering her mid conversation in order to cope with her presence after everything she's done
You didn't deserve it. You were just a kid. You deserve the love you never received. You can grieve what you never had. You should have been treated better. You're worth it, you were always worth it. I wish everybody could see the light I see in you.
We gain more from understanding and comradery than we ever will from contempt and fakeclaiming. Nobody's experiences will be alike. I believe you. If nobody believes you, I believe you.
Shout out to people like me celebrating their first holiday without their abuser!! WE FUCKING DID IT FOLKS!!!!!!
I don’t have any advice but if you do reblog
Hey, do any of my followers have experience with absconding from their parents' house to a safe place as soon as they're able? Do you have any advice on how to do that? Do you have any advice on what the person they're going to live with should do?
Shadows
Sometime in the last year I forgot myself and flashed him a defiant eye. He smacked me across my face. Not enough to leave a shiner, but hard enough for the sting to linger.
Old habits
I make it easy to hurt me. I make it even easier to excuse it.
Sorry, one more ED post.
TW - ED, self harm - last one for a while, promise.
I can’t attribute all my body image stuff to him; most of that was there prior.
Culprit? Dance played a big role - serious ballet students rarely walk out unscathed from body image issues. You are consistently made aware of all the things wrong with your body and comparisons to your colleagues are inevitable.
Bodysuits and tights don’t exactly hide one’s figure, and dressing rooms are.. well... there’s lots of naked people (probably some sexuality repression seeds planted here, another post, another blog).
It’s a very strange combination: being hyper-comfortable being exposed and on display while being hyper-aware of every flaw. It certainly tainted my idea of beauty - I still love and long for that emaciated look in spite of myself. You know, where you can see the sternum - long, lanky and flat everywhere.
Enter in the part 2 of my self harm: Running. It was the perfect addition and worked in tandem with the extremely restricted calorie intake. He loved it because it helped me slim down. I thoroughly enjoyed it as well, but not just because it gave me the body type I’ve been brainwashed to like.
At the time, we lived out in the county and I ran at night. There were few lights, few houses, and a few wild animal sightings.
Those runs were magical. There were sunsets, and stars like I’d never seen. At twilight I’d run past fields covered in fireflies performing a light show just for me. Some nights I could hear coyotes howling off in the distance.
If he was on me about something that night, I could escape. I could clear my head and focus purely on my senses - my shoes hitting the ground, my controlled breathing, the moonlight, the smell of grass and dirt, the sound of the creek underneath the bridge. His voice in my head was drowned out by all of the things around me. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and it reminded me that I was still alive. I felt free.
I still don’t know how I managed these runs having consumed so little. I would run 8, 10, 12 km having eaten a bowl of soup and 5 crackers that day and an apple with peanut butter and a protein bar the day before. Some days I wouldn’t eat at all and still run a 25 minute 5k. I ran with the flu, gastroenteritis, and injuries.
I often think about the harm I did to my body during this time. I knew it too, but nothing stopped me. It was alI I could do for a reprieve from him.
I use objects sometimes. Toys, enhancers, paraphernalia.
I use just my hands other times. Or a blanket, or a pillow.
I take my time. I explore. I learn.
I smile when I’m getting close.
I laugh through my orgasms.
I feel no guilt.
I feel sexy. I feel power. I feel whole.
Never again will this body be bound to you.
From December to Now. This is what progress looks like.
I masturbate now.
Since you found out the depths of my depravity, I found myself feeling sick when the fire within me flickered.
Not anymore. I will nourish the flame without guilt.
Baaahaha.
What doesn’t kill you gives you a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and a really dark sense of humor.
I've been co-authored without my consent.
Two of the symptoms of ptsd and cptsd that have been the hardest to swallow are the lack of focus and the inability to "get into" or enjoy anything.
I was once an avid reader; I'd polish off a book a day if I could. Now it's a struggle to get through a chapter or two.
He has changed the very fabric of who I am.
I've been reblogging too much lately but this is a good one.
I saw this on facebook and honestly yeah
Behold. My empire of scraps.
I can scrape a life together from ashes and crumbs.
Happy New Year
Last year as I entered 2018 broken and scared, I made the decision that, whatever happened, 2018 was not going to look like the Hell that was 2017.
My 2018 in Summary:
1. I cut him off and stuck to it without caving.
2. I took my fitness seriously again and (despite some self inflicted set backs) became stronger than I have ever been.
3. I went back to theatre after a forced 3 year hiatus.
4. I started digging in therapy and made it about me again.
5. I came out.
6. I started dating.
I don't give myself credit often, but I think I kept my promise to myself in a big way.
The romanticized, yet ellusive, idea of happiness isn't real to me, but 2019 feels like it's ripe with potential and possibilities.
It has been a long, long time since I have felt that way.
This is why i can't have nice things.
Things are sort of going well. So that means something devastating is afoot.
You can't convince me otherwise. But I'll nod and smile and let you think you did.
:)
Hush.
I can't stand listening to people try to have dialogue about abusive relationships and why people stay.
The pseudo psychological jargon and the fake-sympathy-but-actually-condesending-as-fuck-tone they use is maddening.
Hats
Throughout the healing process it hasn’t been the assaults, sexual coercion, and the emotional torture that has been difficult to understand.
No, no. It’s been resolving that reality to the person who was, on rare occasions, undeniably kind to me and charming to others. The one who was loved by the family dog. The one who helped out his grandma and had a really sweet relationship with her.
It’s so much easier to think of them as monsters, and I’d argue that it is probably a necessity in the early stages of the recovery process.
But they're human. And somehow that’s a difficult pill to swallow.
Wrong
I thought that being with someone else would help me think of him less.
It hasn't really.
Despite understanding theoretically that 13 years of deep rooted programming doesn't just rectify itself in a few short months, in actuality it's... a little upsetting.