surviving

it/its. vent sideblog. a system, multiple parts post here

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

i can’t consider anything anyone did to me rape or abuse bc i love it so much, i miss them so bad and i need it. i need to be his bunny again! i don’t feel like im anything without fulfilling my purpose. i feel so guilty, being as filthy as they are

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

i cant stop thinking about how we may have experienced mock killings. it doesnt make any sense, but the feelings of being shot, dismembered, and beheaded are stuck in my head. they would put on something to cover my head or eyes, and we would be so convinced of our deaths. many parts believe that they have been killed or are unaware that the body is still alive

[ferventlyviolentsecret]

was this body ever mine to own?

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

we are in so much denial all the time, we’re denying our amnesia because (after many years of trying to learn more about our past and also talking a lot with people who remember things about it) we can recall some childhood things, we’re denying the organised abuse because it all sounds so extreme and terrifying and it doesn’t make sense how all the things that feel like they’re from different lives slot together, we’re denying the existence of other parts because we don’t switch that much. we feel like such a faker!! i wish we would receive some supernatural message that detailed our life and explained everything that’s happened and all of our symptoms

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

sometimes they would convince me that different parts of my body arent mine. i was taught that my arms are not parts of my body so i cant use them, that im an amputee, that i have no eyes or mouth. then they would convince us that there is no body and i am nowhere and that there is no rape at all, they are only fucking a doll

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

if uve talked to us on here and we haven’t responded sorry we are struggling with putting words together and talking to people lately 😓😓

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

we are feeling so much, so strongly right now. i wish i could be elaborate, write my feelings out but words keep disappearing from the head and its taking so much work to not be incoherent. we tried drawing but we can’t put the feelings into it and it is not as beautiful or as good as we hoped

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

i think i cry forever, we keep having terrible nights

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

we are feeling so much, so strongly right now. i wish i could be elaborate, write my feelings out but words keep disappearing from the head and its taking so much work to not be incoherent. we tried drawing but we can’t put the feelings into it and it is not as beautiful or as good as we hoped

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

tw body horror, sexual abuse imagery

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

im so scared, please dont put it into my mouth, i dont want to feel it, i dont want to feel it

[niewiederweinen]

I hate what trauma has done to my brain.

Sometimes a friend trusts me with something that’s hurting them and before I can even control it, my mind just goes, “That’s… that’s your biggest problem?”

And I immediately hate myself for thinking it.

Because I know pain isn’t a competition. I know everyone has the right to suffer. I know their pain is real.

But my brain doesn’t react like a „normal brain“ anymore.

After surviving organized abuse, it’s like my entire scale for what counts as “bad” has been shattered. Everything gets compared to horrors I never wanted to experience in the first place. It’s automatic. I don’t choose it. It just happens.

I don’t want to become someone who’s numb. I don’t want to become someone who can’t understand people anymore. I don’t want trauma to turn me into someone cold.

But sometimes it feels like I live on a different planet.

People talk about things that completely destroy them and all I can think is, I would’ve begged for that to be my biggest problem.

I never say it.

I never want them to feel invalidated.

Instead, I sit there smiling, listening, trying to push that thought back down where it belongs, while feeling guilty that it ever crossed my mind.

I miss the version of me that had a normal reference point.

I miss not having my brain immediately compare everything to violence.

I miss being able to hear someone’s pain without my own trauma screaming over it.

I don’t think people realize that trauma doesn’t just give you nightmares.

Sometimes it changes the way your mind measures reality.

And I hate that.

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

how do you know if your memories are fake/distorted? we fear that seeing others accounts have warped our recall of things and made us imagine things that did not really experience. i’m scared, i dont want to be a liar, and i dont want any of these memories to be real

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

even tho we wish no one had to survive things such as ramcoa/oea we are very grateful online spaces like these exist. like this, we don’t feel quite so small in the world

[ch0kingd0g]

I couldn’t possibly believe in God because. He made everything, and he supposedly is omnipotent. So what, he knew I’d be trafficked and he sacrificed me in the name of free will? Supposedly he cannot stop it because, as aforementioned he created free will.

But he could take away free will at any point to save me and he didn’t. Either he has so much less control than people say, or he hates me. Cause a good being wouldn’t let this happen.

I’d never give that useless religion a second thought.

[exhaustedborderline]

[felt-like-going-by-another-name]

what really gets me is how pointless all the abuse was. we endured so much, we are so fucked up for life, all this for what? so that some sick men could get off? so that some rich men could get a little richer? i cant help but feel like we died for nothing.

[can-y0u-f33l-my-h34rt]

Possible TW!

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To every survivor of trauma and extreme trauma:

I see you, and I hear you.

To me, you matter. You are significant , despite what has happened, but with everything that has been, everything that is, and everything that is yet to come.

Even now, I can scarcely bring myself to speak about my own experiences. My diagnosis was established twelve years ago, and I spent four and a half of those years seeking one reassessment after another, hoping that somehow it could be disproven. I wanted to be free of it.

I was even okay with saying „hey, maybe I’m a liar“ rather than accepting that my life is not what I thought it would be.

This cannot be my life… no please…

And yes, the emphasis is on be, not have been. What many people fail to understand is that for countless survivors, safety is not something confined to the past. Many are not safe today. Some may never truly be… and many of them don’t even know they are still not safe…

When my carer saw ‚things‘ I couldn’t , when she told me that she has no doubt that we‘re still in danger… I couldn’t bear the thought… like how can I not remember that? I do understand trauma, I do understand how dissociation works, I do know what offenders do and I can imagine why… but my heart, my soul and the very manipulated part of my brain can’t comprehend that…

Please, be gentle with yourselves. Be mindful of your own limits and treat yourselves with the compassion that violence denied you.

Violence has the power to shatter so much. Yet I want to believe that within us there remains something that cannot be broken, something fundamentally indestructible.

Please hold on.

Please hold your hopes up, even if it seems impossible to get out…

If you can’t, that’s alright. Sometimes we need other people to hold the hopes up for us… until we find our hope, often in the darkest of nights…