trauma
At its core, trauma can be thought of as the psychological wounds that persist, even when the physical ones are long gone.
“One day I will look back on this moment and be proud.”
A year ago today, my narcissistic ex-boyfriend broke up with me. At the time, I was miserable. However, it wasn't totally unexpected. I had known since the fourth of July this was going to happen. After a long weekend of walking on eggshells, I left early to work with the family I was nannying. I was so early that I sat in my car and broke down, thinking. "I can't do this anymore. He's going to break up with me today, and I will not allow him back into my life. No matter what he says or does, I am not letting him back in." After I had repeated that in my head for a good thirty minutes, I put on my happy face and went to work. I spent the next four hours exploring and hiking with the children and overall had a fantastic time. At the end of my workday, I was at peace. So, ultimately when it was time for me to return home, I was ready, I was prepared for the fight, I was ready for the ridiculous allegations of infidelity, and I was ready to close this turbulent chapter in my life and kick his ass out of my house.
T.R. HartsockPublished 3 years ago in PsycheUnderstanding Trauma
These are my notes and reflections on "Understanding Trauma", session 1 of Returning to Wholeness: A Guide to Understanding and Integrating Trauma, a 12-Lesson online course with Gabor Mate.
Oliver James DamianPublished 3 years ago in Psychethere's a mouse in my laundry
There’s a mouse in my laundry. It’s dead. The question is, was it dead already when I set the machine on delicate cold and let it run, or did it drown in the subsequent load? Was it even there when I first dumped my clothes in?
Jules BerndtPublished 3 years ago in PsycheDungeon in Distraught
Kolby sat on the snow-covered rock outside of his Alaskan home. Silently anticipating where the wind would take him next, reminiscing on the past month. Reflecting on what he believed to have been lost, an amalgamation containing both positive and negative emotions seeped through his being. Young, brave and stubborn–Kolby lived up to be his father’s son. His new profound friend, Hope, only stirred these qualities that laid within him even more flamboyantly. Being rather young he was bound to make many more mistakes, much to his dismay. Nonetheless, in time shall he unveil the tale of the struggles of unlocking hidden treasures that lay dormant. Waiting patiently to be discovered, in the Dungeon of distraught the yarn folds silently.
My First Time
The first time I wanted to kill myself, I was about 12 years old. It was the middle of the night when my mother burst into my room yelling at me. Half asleep and frightened, I tried to make sense of what she was saying.
Kerri ChisumPublished 3 years ago in PsycheA Mother's Love
I could feel the glass shards sinking deeper into my feet each time they hit the ground, but my urgency never faltered- I regret my decision to wear heels this day. Now barefoot and terrified, I was running as fast as I could from my job to my home- it didn’t feel fast enough. I contemplated why I had never prepared myself for doomsday; but of course, I never expected it to happen at all… let alone, like this.
Samantha EvansPublished 3 years ago in PsycheLong After Assault
Molestation and rape were a common theme in my childhood. This is the curse of growing up a pretty black girl, I thought. I knew that my cousins, my mother, and other women I grew up around had been touched inappropriately too, so I didn't really dwell on it too much when it happened to me. Movies taught me that it happens to all women not just the pretty black girls left alone with the wrong male "family" member or "friend," so I thought, this is just what happens to women. Then I learned that it happens to men too, and I just thought, this is what happens period. We just pick ourselves up and move on. I saw a post the other day that said something to the effect, "hyper sexuality after sexual abuse isn't talked about enough. I've seen many women who were abused sexually disconnect with their bodies, and end up just being over sexual...sometimes it's hurt looking for temporary healing," and I identified with this statement so much. I even remember having a conversation with a male friend when I was older to this exact effect. As a survivor of molestation and rape in my younger years, there has always been a disconnect when it came to sex for me, but I don't feel like I became hyper sexual. I feel like I just stopped caring about sex one way or the other.
Nailah RobinsonPublished 3 years ago in PsychePutting Robin Together Again
Putting Robin Together Again Innocence Lost What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. That’s what they say anyway. But death seemed like a sweet release from the nightmare I was trapped in. This is my story, my journey into overwhelming darkness and my struggle to find light again, to find hope and peace.
Robin EdwardsPublished 3 years ago in PsycheThe Me You See Vs. The Me I See
You see me as a girl who is shy... quiet... reserved... I see me as a girl who is riddled with trauma and anxiety; scared that if she says something wrong, then she'll be punished or disliked.
Emily MainorPublished 3 years ago in PsycheWhen My Childhood Trauma Makes It Too Hard to Function
Childhood trauma is a very real thing, and for those living with it you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. One moment you’re sitting there totally fine then, BOOM. You’re sucked down a pit of despair and self-loathing and you’re obsessing over all the help you never got, and all the chances that were denied to you by people too selfish to see that you were drowning
E.B. JohnsonPublished 3 years ago in PsycheWondering
I am just wonderiung where my life will go. I am just wondering when my life will stop being a bad show. I sit and wonder why did life think I was stong enough to go what Job went through.
Gina R (Gibana)Published 3 years ago in PsycheIt’s My Life
Well, well, where do I begin? Oh, Hi everyone. My name is Casandra, but everybody calls me Cassie. I am a single mother of 1, 9 year old boy. My life has never been easy. I can’t remember my childhood at all. When I turned 2, my father went to prison for 11 years. When he got out, my whole life flipped upside down. My father raped me around the ages of 13-15. I didn’t know any better, I thought that was what father daughter bonding, love and affection was. I willing allowed him to do so because he twisted my mind into thinking it was a normal ordeal for a father to have sex with his daughter. I started having problems at school, with my mother, and my siblings. My mother kept two jobs to provide for us. That left me to make sure they got home from school safely, make sure they ate after school and dinner also, make sure all homework was done, and ready for bed at a decent time. I had to grow up very fast and it prevented me from having a normal childhood. My bother and sister were allowed to go to birthday parties, sleep-overs, out with their friends to do normal kid things. I felt alone. I started to become a very rebellious person. Until one day, I found out I was pregnant at the age of 17. I was scared out of my mind. At the moment, I was sexually active with 3 people, my father included. I gave birth to my son and 1 of the 3 men I believed to be my son’s father agreed to taking a DNA test. It turned out he wasn’t the father, broke up with me, and I never heard from him ever again. The second man blocked me on all social media and wasn’t willing to take one at all. I was too scared to even tell my mother that my father has been raping me for years. So currently to this day, I have no idea who’s the father of my son. My conscience is constantly telling me my son is my brother also. When my son turned 6 years old, something in me just snapped. I was broken and nobody understood me because I wasn’t willing to allow anybody in to comfort me. I left my hometown for good. I gave temporary custody of my son to my mother. I hardly see my son at all, unless it’s on FaceTime. I am far from an unfit mother. I help him with homework over the phone, I send money whenever I can. I’m there for him just not physically, even though I know that’s what he needs. I moved two states away to start a new and better life for my son. That has been very hard to do. From me not having a childhood nor being a teen when I was a teenager, I got caught in the fast life of drugs, clubs/bars, sex, and etc. it became very hard for me to save money on my own. I felt a void that needed to be filled in my life. I starting dating, thinking if I can find someone to love me for me, then we can get a house and a car together. I felt like I was living in fantasy land. It finally clicked in my head that i needed to focus on me and my son and that’s exactly what I did. Now I have my own car in my name. I’m focusing on a home now, so I can be a better mother to my son. Things are a bit troubling for me, but all I can do is keep my head held high and keep pushing forward.
Casandra ButlerPublished 3 years ago in Psyche