Nothing More Punk Than Someone Who Is In Pain All The Fucking Time And Just Continues To Exist.

who else mourning the person they could've been if they were treated kindly as a child

everyone talks about cutting off a toxic parent

but no one ever talks about the pain of wanting a parent but knowing yours cannot love you the way they should

Not me listening to The Little Mermaid soundtrack and crying about not feeling like a person anymore after my TBI

“do you really wanna be on medication for the rest of your life” if you knew me unmedicated you’d want me to be on medication for the rest of my life too

The deep ache in my chest when I hear that family members who claim to love me are traveling to visit my trafficker (mom).

The degree to which I wish she would just fucking die already.

Remember this: you are not lazy, you are sick. You are not useless; you are in recovery. You are not unproductive; you are trying your best to live your life while dealing with your health all the time. See the effort it takes to be you. And appreciate the things you do for yourself, be proud of you because you are still going.

“They call it dissociation. I call it containers in which I horror-stored. Each of which have to be opened, reheated, rolled out like a lava carpet and crawled on.”

— The Nine | Tara Hardy

i’ll never be who i dreamed of as a child. it’s too late for them. it’s too late for me. i’ll always be this way.

Just thinking about how, as an under-medicated, severely mentally ill 18 year old, living 800 miles from the only home I knew with no support system other than the fundamentalist cult I was wrapped up in-

I was supposed to sit in a court room and point a finger at the man who hurt me for over a decade, and know how to explain what he did to me, and remember events I was completely dissociated during, and understand that I wasn't lying, I just didn't have access to all of the parts of me that experienced all of the things that happened.

With an undiagnosed dissociative disorder, I was supposed to explain to a jury why my three witnesses knew different details of different events and why I'd only reported one instance.

As a minor, I was supposed to understand that if I told my mandated reporter therapist about one specific situation, I'd be expected to then disclose every instance of abuse, or pretend that it all only happened once.

As a child, I was expected to behave in a way that "makes sense" to the middle aged, rural, conservative jury of my abuser's peers.

Fuck. That.