“And today, I sat in my car alone in the empty parking lot and cried. I cried for the girl I was at 9, I cried for the girl I was at 13, I cried for the girl I was at 16, and I cried for the girl I am today. I shed tears for the versions of me that were killed and born out of necessity, out of survival. I know I am not responsible for the hurt people bestowed me, but I am the one who bears the consequences of other’s failures. I am the one who knows how much blood was spilled, and I am the one who sees the scars that were left on my skin as a reminder of what happens to vulnerability. I am the only one who mourns what other people killed in me.”
-n.c. // grief
too much
@/horrifically // Igor Shcherbakov, Sinichka. (oil on canvas), 2019, // Nicole Homer, Underbelly // Daniele Valeriani // @serratedpens // Takehiko Inoue, Vagabond illustration
9/10/20
I need an inhaler
Every time you think “they could have hurt me worse”, remember that you shouldn’t have been hurt at all. You should have received support and help on everything you struggled with. You should never have faced pain from the hands of your loved ones. You should have been safe and happy and without a care in the world as a child. That’s what you compare your abuse to.
me, on my death bed: l-l-loki is still alive
He Just Can’t Stop Himself… Can He?
I wonder if this is common: As a kid I would lose all emotions for periods of weeks or even months, I would feel nothing and live as a zombie, it felt like nothing mattered and nothing could touch me. During these periods I had very little patience or consideration towards others, I would sometimes snap at people or fail to offer reassurance and comfort, and I’d feel incredibly guilty afterwards, but still couldn’t force myself to be kind and gentle at all times. I just wanted to be left alone and not hurt anyone. It would scare me, just how out of control everything was and how much I didn’t care, I would try to force myself to feel something, I would do dangerous things to myself to try and force a reaction, because it felt like I wasn’t a human being anymore, and as if I wasn’t even alive. I would eventually be able to snap out of these by sinking into fantasies and dreams of things that gave me hope, there wasn’t much but I wanted to stay human no matter what.
I understand today I had to be dissociated from my feelings to that degree to stay alive thru traumatic periods of my life. I have very little memories from these periods except occasional fear that I wouldn’t be able to come back to myself and feel things. Do you remember struggling with this? Is it more universal type of experience of childhood trauma?