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Who the Fuck Am I , Anyway?

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confused

Accepting myself the way I am has also led me to learn more about myself. What is really me and what is the PTSD? Will I really be that different as I heal more? This is confusing to me. I meet myself everyday, where I am. I’m looking forward to knowing more about myself that is my true self and not who I tried to be for the abusive people in my life. Yes, you read that correctly, I severely adjusted my behavior to survive in such a deep way that I was lost to who I really am.

To survive I learned to be quiet and still. Don’t get noticed too much. Don’t feel too much. DON’T CRY. Be as numb as you can and don’t make waves or stir shit. Stay out of everyone’s way. Don’t talk about yourself. Don’t be proud or creative or think outside the box. Don’t offer your opinion no matter how much you think it is right.

Of course the real me peeked through and reached out anyway. This usually got me into trouble but one of the times the real me came out was when I decided to quit my office job to dance on stage for dollars. “An adventure!” I enthusiastically thought as I smiled to myself. My rebellious side devoured this new delicious feeling…and the freedom. I danced and swayed, I climbed around on the globe cages like a monkey and got completely ripped. Something else strange happened. People told me nice things. I know it may seem strange but I wasn’t used to it at all. After awhile, all these positive comments from staff, other gals, and customers started to seep in a tiny bit. I met a touring gal that was selling magazines and DVD’s and I had to meet her. I always wanted to be in magazines since I found a Penthouse mag hidden in a closet. To my surprise she told me I was beautiful and I should go to Los Angeles. I could get a lot of work and definitely be in the adult magazines.

With the little bit of confidence I had gained along with that true bit of myself that is eternally and weirdly optimistic I started to research. I found an agent and agreed to fly to LA and shoot porn! I was 23 years old and had never flown in an airplane. My true self came through and I faced my fear of flying. I ran off and joined the porn circus figuring they would throw me back but what the hell. Adventure!

They didn’t toss me back. In fact, they embraced me and helped me. I live my life on my terms now. The adult industry has been what has allowed me to take these past 2 years to heal. There is still a huge stigma about the adult industry. Without it I would be living in poverty. Will I ever be able to be hired at a regular job after being in the adult industry for over 10 years? Nope, probably not. That’s ok, I don’t want to work for other people anyway. One of the amazing things I’ve learned is that I can make my own way. I get to be my true self, no matter what that self is that day. I get to live many lives and explore myself, the artist inside of me, my sexuality. ALL THE THINGS I want are open and waiting for me to experience, to have, to live. I will thrive.

Who Am I?

I’m strong, resilient, adventurous, thoughtful, empathetic, loving, LOUD, sassy,bossy, wicked, and someone who stands up for other people and includes everyone as much as I can. I’m creative and kind, silly and moody. I overshare. I am a survivor. I have survived each day no matter what happens. I’m still here. I’m still living my life and loving the best way I know how. I want to lift people up as I get better too. I’m proud of myself and I don’t care anymore about who doesn’t like it. PROUD! I’m that person that wants everyone to succeed and do well. I don’t compete with others. I have boundaries and I’m still learning to establish them and stand up for myself. I make up words and silly songs. I cry happy tears and sad tears every day. I love passionately and feel passionate about everything I’m interested in. I go off on tangents and I forget that I’m human needing things like food. I’m a work in progress that I don’t want to ever stop. Always forward, onward upward. I told you, weirdly optimistic. Sometimes, I’m pretty damn brave. I’m really sensitive. I don’t take criticism well. I tend to shift my boundaries or ignore them to explore. This is both a source of immense growth and can be pretty dangerous too. What is a comfort zone anyway?

I recently took a bunch of online tests for fun and just explore what would come up. After about 10 Myers & Briggs personality tests I kept coming up ENFP. I had to retake the test a bunch of times because I took it a long time ago and I tested as something completely different. I couldn’t believe someone just laid it all out there for me to read about myself, my true self that I tried to hide from everyone. What is described is literally me when I am being my high functioning self. This made so much sense to me. It helped me to realize that many of the things I was taught to repress as “not ok” was part of my true self and my personality. Fuck repressing myself. Fuck holding back. Also fuck pants and repetitive boring shit that people expect. Fuck expectations and bullshit from narcissistic assholes. I come from love and I will continue to treat the world with love. I now turn this immense love I have had for other to myself. Nothing stops me from what I want unless I let it. I look forward to further developing myself and growing into ME. Not who they told me to be, who they said I was, who they wanted me to be…just ME.

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New Hope in Healing from Child Abuse

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I have made a lot of progress with my healing and I feel myself continuing to heal. No matter the stresses in life, I’m learning to cope in healthier ways. I feel a new hope as I put myself out there more instead of being a hermit and just keeping to myself. I’m not able to go and do ALL THE THINGS I want to. Sometimes, I feel I’m missing out on adventures and experiences but taking care of me means knowing my limits. With increased stress, even good stress, my symptoms of PTSD flare up.

My last flare up was so scary I didn’t even know what to do. I was around all these beautiful strong women. I was so excited to get back out into the world and be apart of things again! Unfortunately, that’s when one of the scariest things in my life happened. I started to hallucinate. Out of the right side of my vision, I kept seeing someone. A flicker, a sense there was a person. It is not a real person that is physically there. I saw someone looking in the window as I was sitting at the table with my friends. I felt like I was losing it. It continued into the next day. I was caring for my Mom because she was sick with a stomach bug and my brain didn’t let up. It wasn’t that someone was there, it was the feeling that that someone was coming to get me, hurt me. Talk about fucking paranoia!

Every few minutes I felt compelled to look to the right. I sat by her bedside and watched TV with her all the while feeling like someone was there when no one was. No one was going to come around the corner from the bathroom. I knew I couldn’t go back to spend time with my friends like that. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself. I realized then I was pretty ashamed of this new development. I texted my friend the next day telling her that I was having a hard time and apologized for not being up to going out. I braced for her to be angry but she wasn’t at all. She sent me LOVE, not apathy for my situation like many have in my past. I’ll always remember that.

What I didn’t realize at the time was this started not long after moving into my new place. I couldn’t reflect when I was being startled so much with the perceived threat in my peripheral vision. I often don’t want to get others involved in my pain. It started with the bedroom door. I kept feeling like someone was there. I kept looking at it, open or closed, I kept checking. No one is there but the fear is real, the terror was all but unbearable. It was physically painful but not as much as the mental anguish. I even started looking into a PTSD facility that maybe I could go stay in for some help.

On Sunday I watch ones of my favorite shows and it was the episode where we all learn why Hodar says Hodar instead of talking. He was really saying HOLD THE DOOR. I watched it and was finally able to cry. He held that fucking door. That night I tried to sleep in my bed but I just couldn’t. I joked to myself that I needed a Hodar. Someone to hold the door for me to keep me safe or just sit in front of it so the door couldn’t be moved. I wished my room had no doors or windows, no way to get to me. I’m thankful for this wonderful scene in the show. I had a breakthrough. I also slept on the couch for a few nights before I was able to sleep in my bedroom again.

The door in my bedroom as a child was also in the same orientation as it is now. The door was on the right. I would stare at the door for hours in terror, listening to every little noise, watching for the shadows to move under the door to let me know if it was going to happen again. A huge amount of time in my life at that time has been devoted to paying extreme close attention to every little detail to let me know if I was safe or not. I barely slept. It is exhausting.

How sad is it that a bedroom itself is scary? The place you are supposed to feel safe, in your own home, in your own bed. Not for me. This is what they mean when they say normal everyday things can be a trigger. I had no sense of safety. I almost re-arranged my bedroom but decided against it. I decided that I wasn’t going to change anything and that instead of fearing the door I would tell the door that I was an adult now and nothing that could be behind it would be as scary as ME.

When I started therapy and decided I wasn’t going to take my own life, I dragged a foam mattress into the living room. I slept there for a year until I moved into an apartment. When I moved into my current home, I bought a beautiful new bedroom outfit as a reward to myself. I made the bedroom my sacred space for rest. I try my best to adhere to a strict routine. For the past 2 weeks when the alarm at 8pm goes off, I take sleeping pills. So far, this is working great and I’m sleeping better than I have in my whole life. I still look at the door but it is not as scary now. I feel hope now that I will continue to get better.

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Healing from PTSD

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Healing from PTSD


 

I am currently healing from PTSD and I am in year 2 of dedicated healing. Below are the topics I will be discussing in the video:

Insomnia
Nightmares
Night Terrors
Flash Backs
Intrusive Thoughts
Sadness/Hopelessness/Otherness
Anxiety
Self Hatred
Anger/Hostility
Hypervigilance
Suicidal Thoughts
Disassociation

 

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My PTSD is Trying to Kill Me Again

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“I will take your sleep which in turn robs you of your patience, your energy, and your ability to heal your physical body.

I will take your peace of mind and replace it with daily terror and fear. I will fuck with your memory, some days you will be not be able to put 2 sentences together, or remember to take care of yourself. You will question everyone around you and wonder if you can trust them but I won’t stop there. I will slowly grind away at your ability to trust yourself.

I will erode away at your self-confidence that you could be out in the world and survive. I will make you question your ability to survive by wrecking you with panic attacks, emotional flashbacks, and linking things in your normal life to your past so that it’s always right there in your face.

I will steal your peace away with flashbacks, hallucinations, and intrusive thoughts. I will make you feel crazy. I will pull you into a pit of despair as you struggle to smile and climb out.

Finally, I will steal your will to live. As you struggle to take it one day to time, hour to hour, and minute to minute, I will steal days, months, and years from you as you wait it out, wait to feel better, and wait for me to stop but I won’t. You will watch your life go by and everyone around you while you are at the state of paralyzing anxiety and stuck with me. My claws dig deep into your physiological flesh. I try to rip it.

I am such a mind fuck that I will not kill you myself but I will convince you to do it yourself or to be destructive enough in your urges that someone else might. I will convince you that it’s your only option and the only path to peace.

Death is the only peace-“

I SAY-FUCK THAT!

**This is the part where the superhero me, “self-care and love”  me comes in and kicks PTSD’s ass!

She ties up PTSD, and throws the fucker in the trunk.

“Enjoy the ride, ASSBUTT, you don’t need to be the front seat anymore!”

Superhero gets into the passenger seat and smiles at the driver which is me. In the backseat are my other selves the 3 year old child me, the twenty-something me, the teenager me, the villain me, the big angry guerrilla me, and all the others that occupy space in my mind that are all parts of me.

We listen to some music on the radio that we all like we jam out as we drive down the road to a happier life with PTSD securely in the trunk.

That’s how I see it in my head anyway. 28 people diagnosed with PTSD take their life every day. That is more than 1 per hour. Today, I am not one of them. This illness is trying to kill me and I will not let it. Not only with I live through this, just surviving, I will thrive and to my best to help lift other people up that are also suffering.

I’d really like to create videos of these scenarios as art therapy.  Hopefully, I can some day. I’m working on getting some special effects skills under my belt.

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Living and Coping with PTSD

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I just finished reading this book about PTSD called, “What’s Your Superpower?: Living and Coping with PTSD” by Bob Wagner. Usually I fly through a book, devouring all its bits much like I eat french fries but this was more like a fine steak dinner that you savor each part.  I had a lot of emotional reactions and cried a lot while reading.  I was triggered a couple times but I really loved how the author did not mince his words and got right down to the heart of what it is like to live with PTSD on a daily basis. He describes it perfectly and in a way I just want to shout it to the rooftops that is you have PTSD this book is VERY validating and if you love someone with PTSD, it is a book for you too. I’ll be directing people to this book a lot like I do the other resources that have helped me in my ongoing journey.

It really helps me to read books by people with the actual disease instead of some educated person’s theory on it. Its comforting and heartbreaking that I am not alone in what I go through every day. I’m very thankful that he was able to open up like he did. I also learned that 28 people that have been diagnosed with PTSD commit suicide EVERY DAY! That’s a horribly large number and to think that is just the ones with a diagnosis and just the ones that are classified a suicide. I understand why though. PTSD tried to kill me and continues to through its bitch-ass hat in the ring every few months.

This book also helped me to see the behavior caused by PTSD and what is actually part of my personality. There are assignments in the book for PTSD sufferers and I enjoyed them although some are still in progress in my mind as well as my journals. I had already started working further defining my symptoms vs what is just me and my dorky weirdoness. Reading Bob Wagner’s book further helped to bring that home that my identity is not my disease and visa versa.

If you can not tell, I highly recommend this book and it is work owning digitally to refer back to again and again. It is a story of strength and understanding. The author still struggles with PTSD and overcomes it every day to live his life. This book made me realize that I do the same and inspired me to keep going. My disease has been trying to kill me again as I go into this new phase of healing. It is lying to me and taking things from me like sleep and time. It makes me feel crazy but what is really happening is that I’m fighting.

This book also addresses the stigma that comes along with mental illness as well as the many stupid things that people say to you if you do happen to have a mental illness and they find out. Reading this I began to realize what a fucking underdog that I really am: sex worker, female, abuse survivor, mentally ill. This doesn’t make me feel bad anymore though. I don’t hold near the amount of shame that I used to about anything I listed above.  I hope to one day write a book from my perspective as well. There are some big plans that I decided not to wait to do when I feel better. Here’s the thing: I might not feel better, my disease might kill me, I might get hit by a bus tomorrow. I have started to progress toward my dreams if only one small step per day. This book is one more tool in my arsenal against PTSD and living my life. As it says in the book though: Living another day is one for the win column.

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Anger: Venting- Healing From Child Abuse

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I’m angry and I’m allowing it to happen. I’m allowing myself to feel it fully now and it scares me. It can scares others since I’m female…society says I’m not allowed to be angry, my abusers said I wasn’t allowed to be angry either so I know its fucked to believe anger is an emotion that I’m not supposed to have. Tough titty, here it is! How inconvenient for others and I don’t give any fucks about it. Actually, I’m really pissed about being mentally abused for having a natural reaction to abuse. Anger is normal, anger is ok, its ok to be angry. I have every right to be angry. Now what do I do with this?!? I’ve been really sad and cycling through a lot emotions in the past year and once again the wheel of emotions has stopped at anger.

Its different this time. This is old anger that doesn’t have words. Its anger from my childhood. It was formed when I didn’t know the English language very well yet. I was too young to form the thoughts an older child would.

What I will do:
I’m going to learn everything I can about anger, its driving force, the source(pain,FUCK!) let it happen, and deal with it the healthiest ways I can. I will scream and shout, punch pillows, break items that are designated for that purpose. I will write like mad and work on projects with my new found passionate energy that hopefully I can use from this immense ball of feelings. I’m going to breath and love myself through it like I have other parts of my healing process. I will show up and do my best. I will have compassion for myself as a human that has been through some awful shit.

What I will not do
I will not hurt myself or others(I will try but someone is bound to get their feelings hurt). I won’t destroy anything that isn’t designated for that purpose. I will not direct the anger at myself but at who is really to blame. I will not be shamed into silence by apologists, trolls,ect. I will not suppress it. I will attempt to not stop myself from feeling as much as possible. I catch myself now. I will not make unrealistic expectations of myself that I learned from narcissistic assholes and our asshole society.

VENT/RANT
I will not suffer ignorant fools that choose to not educate themselves or be compassionate with survivors. I am cold and have no compassionate for those who do not have compassion for others. I’m not only done with them, I’m ready to shun them and treat them like they treated me. Of course, they can’t take a dose of what they dish out and some don’t even realize they are re-traumatizing people with their lack of empathy. Also, fuck sympathy. I’m stronger than a lot of people. Many people that have been through 1/10th of what I have are gone, dead, and I am STILL HERE. I will learn to love myself despite everything I’ve been told to the contrary.

Part of me remains here for spite, to one day read about the death of my abusers, to out-live them. Letting them live their miserable lives instead of killing them is a much better plan than any vengeance I could plan to visit upon them. I planned a lot, too. This also keeps me out of prison. It is ok to write it all out and release it. It is when serious plans get made and the fantasy starts to actually take over large amounts of time that I know I need to back off. Besides, I had the chance to kill or remove the genitals of one of my abusers and I didn’t. To me, that means I’m stronger than that. I’m stronger than the abuse that has infected my mind. There is something in me that’s better, stronger, and kinder than that. Kindness and not hurting others no matter how much pain I am in the my true strength. Love is stronger and that is VERY real. I just have to allow it. That I can see someone as another human trusting me and not take advantage even though I can see the direct path to doing so. I see the path to taking care of that person too and choose that(and by other people I mean myself too!). Its not black or white but I am going to strive to turn this force that is anger into something good for my life.

I feel better since I wrote this all down but I’m still pissed. I am going to speak out more about child abuse and share helpful information. Maybe one day I’ll have enough to really help someone and be there for them the way I’m learning to be there for myself. I have another driving force inside me that is not anger but this drive to share what I have learned about healing so others can heal too. I want to show others that it is possible to heal and feel better. It is still difficult and there are bad days but IT DOES GET BETTER. It was heal or death for me. I chose to heal. My anger will manifest to an intense passion to bring awareness and compassion to myself and others.

Thank you for reading.

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I Lived

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Abuse Survivor Blog Poem

I won’t break myself part anymore and hide the pieces that you won’t accept.
The whole of me rejects being apart from itself any longer.
Pieces have become integrated.
Life is being lived.
I’m afraid.

I cry, I scream, I dance.
There is sitting for long silences and bursts of unrepentant laughter.
…and I LIVE.
I allow me to be myself and celebrate what that means every day.
I’m happy and grateful.
Just being me.
Becoming who I have the potential to be.

I forgive myself what had to happen to survive up to this point.
I thank myself for getting us this far.
Us, all of us, the little girl, the teenager, the young woman, and who I am today sitting with all of them and looking with compassion and sometimes wonder that we made it.
I made it.
I lived.

I’m not really sure what to do if it would be considered a bunch of words on the screen or a poem of sorts. It came from my heart so and how I feel today after recovering very dark place that I was in. I’m able to look back now and see that I made the right choice not to kill myself. I feel like I’ve conquered something. I had this feeling of, “They didn’t win” and “Fuck them!”

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Hormones and PTSD

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alwaysanadventure2

Hormone fluctuations can wreak havoc on someone who has PTSD. PMS plus PTSD is a combination of acronyms that are sure to make life miserable. In fact the last two weeks I have been having a really difficult time in dealing with life in general has the symptoms of my PTSD get amplified as well as my moodiness. I am kind of moody anyway I that I am one of those sassy kind of gals but this was not how I wanted to spend the two first two weeks of February. From now on I’m in a be a better person to myself from now on I’m but I do better and make sure that I put this on my calendar so I have so little bit of advance notice before all that shit goes down again as I am still in the blasted breeding age.

Ever since I got back from visiting my brother in New York I have not been feeling so great. The trip was wonderful and I really enjoyed visiting with my older brother. I wasn’t able to bring my medication with me because I’m not allowed to transport over state lines. So for five days I was unmedicated and just had to deal with everything PTSD does to me without my medication. Luckily this was made a lot easier because I feel very safe with my older brother and I didn’t have a lot of things triggering me that week. I had a few hyper mornings where I talked his head off but then I was able to calm myself down through breathing techniques and distraction.

After I got home I just seem to be in a funk that I cannot really pull myself out of more than about half a day. This went on for the last two weeks thinking that something must’ve triggered me. Something did, I just wasn’t paying attention. It was PMS. The hormone fluctuations triggered depression, anxiety, paranoia, nightmares, flashbacks, negative thoughts and all kinds of things that I thought I’d put away for a while. This really freaked me out because I thought I was getting depressed again but instead of being suicidal this time I was kind homicidal in my more darker thoughts. I made sure to write it down for future use in me weird expressive project.

So, it turns out that I’m not crazy after all, I’m just a hormonal wreck right now. The relief of knowing just the hormone fluctuation has given me a different perspective on what is going on with me. I was so scared that I was going downhill again, that I might not be okay again. I pretty much fought it with everything I had all the self-love techniques that I could muster but the shenanigans that hormones bring came to life in the past two weeks really pissed me the fuck off. I was so frustrated thinking that I was sick again. Now that I have a plan and know what is going on, it is a great opportunity to treat myself with lots of self-care and power through for just a few more days until you get the hormones straightened out again.

One thing I found it did help me was to learn this new graphics software that I downloaded. I’m usually not very good with graphics but for some reason this seems to go a little better. I created lots of cover photos for products and projects that I plan to flesh out in the future. A lot of people been asking me to write some kind of memoir and I thought hey why not go ahead and start sharing some of that stuff. The graphic on this blog post is one of the cover photos that I created. I told you I was a very good graphics and this is would help. Lol

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Goal: Stop Being So Damn Hard on Myself

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As I started my healing process last year I made a promise to myself that I would stop being so hard on myself about every little thing I could possibly be hard of myself for. I came to realize that I was treating myself much like the people in my life who were abusive. I did not let myself rest very often or let myself have is that I wanted. I second-guessed myself at every turn and I minimized my own feelings and abilities for the comfort of others. I had a broken record of complete and utter bullshit filing cabinet in my mind as to why I wasn’t able to do things or do anything right. I would literally mentally beat myself up if that I did not meet my own unrealistic expectations that eerily matched the unrealistic expectations of abusive people that have been in my past. The words in my head were not mine. It was the echoes of the things said in the past still haunting me. Insults and untruths which I am still working on processing and accepting them for what they are.

I have gone through most of the bullshit and even proven some things wrong with concrete evidence akin to “Oh yeah? Watch this, Motherfucker.” What seems to be left now are remnants. The things that I have to be hard on myself now are nothing now that my brain is really and truly started to make some shit up. For example I was being hard on myself about not updating my clip store or my video diaries on a daily basis and nobody really gives a fuck about that. The world is not going to end if I don’t update something on a daily basis.

When I really thought about this I had to laugh. Is this really all that’s left that I can badger myself about? Is this it? Is this all you’ve got? YES! I feel elated that I have hit this point where I can laugh at what a hard ass I am when it comes to myself instead of feeling blah and continue to beat myself up. Laughter is a game changer. Immediately, it changes my focus. Laughter is cathartic like crying the more fun and less puffy face.

I filmed a video diary somewhere along the way in January that talks about this very thing. I laugh in the video about how hard I am on myself and that I don’t really have anything to be hard on myself for anymore. And this is true! The feeling of elation is now turning into acceptance and into a soft smile for myself out of love. Yep, that is me. I’m doing OK.

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Still Angry – RANT

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I’ve been reading “The Courage to Heal” that I arrived in the mail the other day. It’s really helping me to understand the stages of healing and then everything that I’m feeling is okay. I’ve been grieving and angry…mostly angry. I don’t think the words grieving and angry really cover the mountain and feelings that come with this. It really doesn’t feel okay. Feels awful. It hurts so much.

It is very difficult for me to feel angry and to be in touch with my anger. For many years. I was told I had no reason or right to be angry and eventually after being told over and over again that I had no reason to be angry, starts to just compound upon itself on the inside. This is very unhealthy to go through life for years and not be allowed to really express anger. I even had my ex-husband tell me that he thought I was punishing him, even though all my anger comes from one place and that is the deep pain that I feel every day. It’s just one more way that they can blame me, and it’s just one more thing that seems to haunt me.

I don’t like to feel anger. I don’t what to be mean to people. I don’t want to hurt anybody. When I get into this stage of healing I don’t know what to do. This is usually when men will tell me that anger is not attractive, and that it’s not okay, calm down, its not happening now, what is wrong with you, just don’t think about it, do things to distract yourself, take this pill, drink this wine…

Is this part of PTSD? Will my feelings go from being very angry to this strange feeling of acceptance of not being able to get out of that mindset that I been in for so many years. This mindset tells me that I should feel bad for feeling angry for the things that happened to me. What makes me the most angry is that the people who told me that it’s not okay to be angry, are the ones that hurt me.

Seems as a female, I never allowed to be angry anything for any time anything to matter how unjust or unfair it is. Your just supposed to take it because that’s the way life is. While I’m calling bullshit. If it was supposed to be this way it would feel this way.

It makes me angry that I still hear their voices in my head. Makes me angry that I tell myself the things that they told me in it makes me feel horrible and sad in that sadness that turns to anger.

I’m angry that they weren’t punished for what they did. I do not think that living with what they did no matter how hurtful that could be is good enough of a punishment for what they did to me.

The acts themselves really did hurt and they did mangle my mind but what made it worse was all the mind games that followed to try to blame me and hold me responsible for actions that were not in my control. That fucking hurts.

I’m angry because I’m second-guessing myself but even as I write this because I am more of a conversational writer and and not a great one either. I’m not even the best voice to talk to people about these things because how could anyone understand me when I don’t understand myself.

I think that’s where I need to start and I need to keep forgiving myself, that I need to keep saying to myself positive things and reassurances over and over again until the voices stopped telling me otherwise.

I need to stop being mad at myself to treat myself with some compassion. I had compassion for them. I made excuses for them. I lied for them. I hurt myself. I suffered for them. I hated myself for them so that they could feel better about themselves when they were truly the one who were not worth anyone’s time, especially mine.

No, I want to ask why. Now I’m trying to interrogate myself ask those why? Why did you do this, why did you do that, why did you allow this. Why did you let this happen
None of that really matters, because that way questioning is hurtful and the reason that it’s hurtful is because why is “explain yourself” like an interrogation.

The same bullshit why questions that they used always ask me when I was expressing the fact that I wouldn’t pay what they did. It’s enough to make anyone crazy. It’s enough to make me feel crazy and exhausted and prickly.

My anger scares the hell out of me. When I’m angry I think very dark thoughts. And I think about doing very dark things. My brain starts to plot and plan, and in its own little engineering way, try to figure out solutions to the common problem of how to get away with some type of vengeance. That’s not who I really am though. Its a manifestation of shit I’m not dealing with or accepting of myself. Its a distraction, something to stay busy.

The reason I know that I’m not that kind of person, even though I have little violet fantasies about revenge is that I had the chance. Someone who raped me was lying in front of me tied up. I had every opportunity in the world to hurt this person or kill them. And in that moment that I realized I had power over them, and the opportunity to do things to them that they had done to me. I stopped. It’s like all of a sudden I lost complete interest. Somehow, in their mind, They had justified what they done to me, but I could not justify to myself to do those things to another human being, or any living thing for that matter. That’s who I am. I can be given power over someone else. And instead of wanting to hurt them or damage them, something else happens. I see that vulnerability and I RESPECT and honor it. And all I want to do in the world is for that person to have a good experience under me. I am not a murderer. I am not a rapist. I know how to love and I have compassion for others, even if they may not deserve it.
Weak people tear others down , and put them down in order to feel better about their own pathetic lives. To one up another for what? Wow, good job, you’re the special fucking snowflake now. Do you feel better? What a fucking waste of energy and time.
Part of me hates people part of me loves people. No, I think I actually hate people. I just have a respect for consent, and for life. Does that make me better than the people who hurt me? Fucking ‘a right it does, Fuck them! They are the weak ones for strong people do not hurt children and vulnerable people. Strong people lift people up, support them, and help us all to be better versions of ourselves and WANT to be better than were were yesterday through their inspiration. That is strength. THAT is power.