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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
JVL
will byers stan first human second
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@jamais-rompu
You have to really be broken in order to be a poet. It’s a very bad thing to tell a young person, but it’s true. Poetry comes out of all the places where you break.
Alice Notley, from an interview conducted c. October 2015 (via violentwavesofemotion)
Me Too - Night One
The first night, we had just seen each other for the first time in three months. Being from different countries was difficult, but it really felt like we were making it work. I thought I was in love. We went on a Brewery Tour in Brooklyn. The night was normal until we got home. I may have been intoxicated, but not enough to forget the way his eyes glazed over and went black. I could not tell you what the fight was about, it always had to do with something that he said I had done to piss him off: speaking to other people, smiling at strangers, not cleaning my plate at restaurants, wanting to have sex, not wanting to have sex, you get the point here. The way he so effortlessly pinned my arms down with his knees and jammed his elbow into my trachea. I blacked out after this, my fuzzy memory has me fading in and out. His fingers are pressed into my eye balls. My mouth is covered with his salty hand. Fade to black and I woke up the next morning with hickey-looking marks around my neck, a black eye and popped blood vessels on my eyelid bearing the outline of a thumb, a sore vagina, and a pounding headache. I couldn’t take photos because he wouldn’t leave me alone and he would monitor my phone. He met my parents for the first time that night, as I was getting ready he verbally chastised me for “putting on too little makeup, do you want attention or something?” Then again for “putting on too much makeup, are you trying to look suspicious?” He faked his love for me and fooled them just as he fooled me when we first met and the rest fades to black...
I am starting my own blog series to document the memories of these horrible events that shaped my life. I’m not sure how many parts there will be, because two years later and I am still processing all of the trauma and admitting to myself that it’s real. With PTSD, it’s hard to piece together the whole puzzle. Many of my memories are repressed, but over time as I’ve healed they are coming back up. This is my way of sharing my struggle. Putting it all out there and finally getting my secrets off my chest. I’m not ashamed anymore. I’m not afraid of you. I will never be silenced again.
Part 2 of 2
For more posts like this, visit @mypsychology
You survived one of the most traumatizing physical/sexual assaults. YOU survived that. If you could survive that, you could survive this.
Thank you to my analyst for being there for me in ways I can explain.
Hi Tumblr, I missed you. Sorry it's been a while, but the battle is not always easy.
My mother caused my eating disorder, but denies that I have one. This is a self-serving bias at work here. Plain and simple.
I’ve been painting an intensely personal piece about trauma for the past week and i’ve been trying to use that to sort out a lot of my jumbled thoughts and feelings.
And one of the things that struck me while i was talking about what this painting means to me is just how deep the wound is when people say the abuse you suffered made you a better person.
I hate it when people try and tell me how my trauma made me better, made me good. It feels like a justification, that it was worth it because it improved me. I hate the way it makes me feel when people tell me that it made me kind, because the implication is there that i would have been cruel otherwise. When you say ‘but think about all the people you are helping now’ you’re saying i wouldnt have cared. What you’re telling me when you say it made me a better person is that abuse saved me from being a bad one. that the people who made me suffer were actually doing me a favour. But not only that, when you tell me that it made me better, that it made me good, that it made me strong and kind and caring. it feels like you’re saying that maybe if i had been better, stronger, kinder… maybe it wouldn’t have needed to be done. If i was a better person, i wouldn’t have had to suffer to fix me like this. If i was these things to begin with i wouldn’t have deserved it. if i was good enough they wouldn’t have hurt me.
bad people do awful things to vulnerable people. Not people who deserve it, not because they are some kind of force of nature using violence to bless people with kindness. but because they can get away with it. Because they want to. Because they’re fucking awful human beings who like causing pain. thats it.
there’s nothing you can take away from my trauma that comes out positive. im not a better person because of it, im sick, im broken, im angry and bitter and deeply deeply depressed. i’ll never be able to be the person i could have been. and i’ll never have the fucking chance to see how far i could have gone without trauma dragging me down. Yes it changed me but fucking hell not for the better. My abusers didn’t give me kindness. that’s all me, and its’s something i fight tooth and nail to keep from being burned up in the rage and self hate that consumes me. if i am kind its because I am kind. how dare you give them more peices of me
Idea: if you are convicted of domestic violence or of rape, you lose all custody of any children. You also lose the ability to have any custody of future children. If you file for marriage, your spouse to be is furnished with the records of your offense. The spouse must sign that they have received these records before a marriage license is granted. Your domestic abuse or rape conviction will be printed on any official documents, including driver’s license and passport.
your abuser could have gone thru life without abusing you. this was an option all along. they didn’t have to hurt you, they didn’t have to be cruel, they didn’t have to declare themselves an authority for what is and isn’t good for you and decide that abuse is what you deserve, they didn’t have to manipulate you, they didn’t have to lie to you, they didn’t have to insult, criticize or humiliate you, they didn’t have to control you, they didn’t have to crush your self confidence, they didn’t have to scare or hit or push or torture or gaslight you, they didn’t have to do any of it. they could have gone thru their life without doing it. nobody forced them to do it. it was their own decision to do those things. they are the sole person responsible for doing all of it. they would have lost nothing if they didn’t do those things. it wouldn’t take anything away from their life not to destroy yours. hold. them. responsible.
Anyone else think something is fucked up about the fact that of a group of 12 randomly selected women, all 12 have been assaulted by men?
Men who slam doors and furniture are making sure you hear how much they want to hit you.
You don’t have to justify why you stayed… Those who leave (or are in) abusive relationships are often asked why they stayed, why didn’t you say no, etc. Remember that getting out of abusive relationships is very challenging, and scary, and those questions can be really hurtful and invalidating.
nights // blonde
Smoke till we grown ups, 'til coffee and donuts, newspapers, pill poppin to grasp onto moments and save our personas while doctors persuade you you stronger till you think that you living longer #restorationofanamericanidol (at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
Indigenous women of Standing Rock issue heartbreaking plea for help ahead of evacuation
With just over a day to go before the evacuation deadline arrives at North Dakota’s Oceti Sakowin camp, protesters at the Standing Rock Indian Reservation have issued a plea: Come help — now.
In a viral video shared by journalist Shaun King on Monday, a group of indigenous women remind viewers that demonstrations against the Dakota Access pipeline are about much more than a single issue.
They’re about clean water, police brutality, treaty rights and the rights of future generations. Read more (2/21/17 8:00 AM)
follow @the-movemnt
