Bailey Theismann
Stories (9/0)
The Hunt For Answers of a Closed Adoption
Growing up, it was not uncommon knowledge in the family that my mother was adopted. Her adoptive parents decided it was best that she and her sister both knew the truth and would not be made to feel as if they were living a lie. That they should know they were adopted out of love. Now my aunt and mother were, and still are, polar opposites. My aunt is the book smart, goody two shoes who has always done everything by the book and deemed the golden child. And my mother.....well, that's a less pleasant explanation. My mother got into drugs early, dropped out of college, got knocked up, and settled for a shotgun wedding. She has, very truthfully, always been the family disappointment who could have been something great. Having 4 kids and running through 2 marriages did not slow her drug abuse or abuse of those around her, but rather accelerated it and damaged everything and everyone in her life. At some point, my aunt found her biological mother. This created a massive tension in the family. My mother was enraged and jealous. Saying she was pissed would put it very lightly. It further advanced the distaste my mother had for my aunt as she wanted to find her biological parents more than my aunt did. She wanted answers and had never felt complete. She had never felt like she fit in, which was her own fault.
By Bailey Theismann2 years ago in Families
Dear Abuser, I Am Done Forgiving You
Abuse. Never a word I thought would apply to myself, no matter how many times I read and reread the definition of it from the yellowed pages of the dictionary given to me. But for almost fifteen years, I lived my life in a weird suspended state of consciousness. Numb, deaf, and mute. The sum of the entirety of my life was simplified to one word- silence. Silence. Plainly described as a complete and utter lack of sound. That was how I lived. In silence. It was only interrupted by the momentary loud bursts of skin breaking under a violent hit. The muffled screams hidden behind the closed doors. The quiet whimpers escaping between locked lips. The overwhelming and consuming sense of loneliness and isolation. The cold floor as it turns out to be the only comfort at the end of the day. Abuse. Silence. Hand in hand. A duo of trouble.
By Bailey Theismann5 years ago in Families
It's Not About My Body
As a community, we are quick to talk about the appearances of those around us. However, many of us lack the ability to talk about the appearance of ourselves with pride and comfort. For many of us, it stems back to quiet whispers in our ears growing up about the ideal body.
By Bailey Theismann5 years ago in Longevity
Keep Pushing
Life is really fucking hard. We all find that out at one time or another in the span of time that we walk the Earth. Statistically, just about 20 percent of us will experience mental illness in a given year. And approximately 7 percent will deal with a major depressive episode in a given year. For something that we all fear to talk about, it happens a lot, honestly. But the stigma around it has made it such a hard topic for us to say anything about. Will it cost you your job? Your love? Your happiness? Everything? Only if you let it.
By Bailey Theismann5 years ago in Psyche
Accidental Love
After over a decade of being surrounded by drastically toxic people, I had become broken and was patched up just enough to ensure my survival of neglect and abuse. No more, no less. Many of those that hurt me made the more than convincing argument continuously that I was unlovable, and that my love itself was like poison, surely to start killing the moment it was given. So when he carelessly waltzed in, radiating sunshine, laughter, and a distinct concern for me, it was mildly distressing. Would I break him? Would I drive him away? Would I lose my chance at having someone in my life who cared about me? Or was this just a game for him?
By Bailey Theismann5 years ago in Humans
I Remember
They say some things will come and go as time progresses. That we will learn to either cope or let go and forget. I chose to blindly ignore the pain and let it eat at me for years, simply pretending it did not exist. So many therapists have tried to pry these memories from the darkest parts of my brain. To teach me to that maybe this pain is temporary. But, frankly, this is not temporary. This is something that will weigh heavy on me and my heart for a very long time. And I may learn to cope eventually, but for now, this is the best option.
By Bailey Theismann5 years ago in Families
Five Years
It's a Friday, the beginning to a hopefully enjoyable weekend. My boyfriend and I both get off work and decide to start the weekend off right. We have nowhere to be tomorrow so we begin to wander, driving around with no real destination. We stop at the mall and decide to walk around and window shop a little bit. We go to walk into this pop culture store and there you are. Standing there, flipping through CDs. It's like seeing a ghost. I immediately turn and walk out of the store and mumble something about coming back later. My boyfriend, confused, follows me and tries to make sense of the mumbles and haziness. I just keep walking like somehow increasing the distance will make me feel safer somehow.
By Bailey Theismann6 years ago in Humans
The Closure Generalized Anxiety Disorder Gave Me
The entirety of my childhood, I had this nagging feeling sitting at the edge of my brain. It started small, almost unnoticeable, like a papercut almost. I could easily ignore it and go about my day, but at the end of the day it was still surely there. However, the more time passed, it didn't heal up or go away, it just continued to get worse. What started as slight nervousness and restlessness had fully evolved to an impending sense of doom that came to control every aspect of my life. At the drop of a needle, I would be having a full-blown meltdown about things as small as ordering dinner in the drive-thru. But at the time, I never realized that this was anything but normal. My parents had always told me that it was okay to worry a little, or feel nervous, or feel restless, and so forth. Every time I brought up this feeling to try and find answers, I was given the same script of answers every time: "...it's all in your head..." or "...you're overreacting..." or "...just get over it..." or "...it'll pass..." So I coped. I made it day to day, even with this feeling dragging me down with the iron grip it had on me.
By Bailey Theismann6 years ago in Psyche