Untitled @potential-object-738 - Tumblr Blog

no bc that's exactly what it feels like. No matter how many times I've moved, it's still felt like her house. I'm always scared she's just around that corner, is about to barge in through my door.

Will I ever get a space that feels like mine?

onceuponafosterkid

I moved in with my foster parents when I was 15. I don’t live with them anymore, but my apartment is five minutes away from their house and I still see them all the time. I don’t always vocalize to my foster mom when I’m struggling because I know she has a house full of kids to worry about, and I don’t want to burden her. I swear she has this sixth sense though, because whenever I start spiraling it’s like she knows. If it’s been a few days since we’ve talked, she’ll call me and check on me, or invite me over for dinner. She’s even driven over here to pick me up to run errands with them and get lunch, just us. Sometimes I look through our texts and it’s impossible to not see how much she loves me, just from those texts. The other day I finally told her and my foster dad a little bit about what I’ve been struggling with, and they just listened to me vent, and they reassured me, and gave me advice. I’m not her blood, but she knows me better than anyone and I think that’s how she always knows, even without me telling her. I don’t know how she does it, but I’m so grateful for both of them. I know that no matter how messy my life gets, I can always come home to them, no questions asked. This is what foster care is supposed to be. I moved out almost three years ago, but they still save my seat at the dinner table. They don’t adopt kids, they never wanted us to feel like some of us were better than others, and they can’t take all of us. In the 39 years they’ve been foster parents, they’ve raised over 300 kids, but they make sure that I know I will always have a place in their lives. So when I think about what love looks like, that’s what I picture, them.

unevenmonochrome-deactivated202

There was a question my therapist asked me a few years ago that I still think about to this day. And now, I shall pose the question to you:

"Are you healed or just distracted?"

lastcatghost

Read a post once that said, 'our brains are naturally wired for connection, but trauma rewires them for protection'

slivincptsd

ever since the PTSD-inducing time, I haven't been able to get a good sleep schedule. Like, it's been a few years and still consistently go to bed at 1-2am. It helps I can sleep in until 10am, but I cannot get to sleep earlier. I feel like this has something to do with my trauma, but I'm not certain.

You know what, writing this down has made me realize it's probably bc a lot of the sudden abuse happened at night - the amount of times I was woken up with screaming - that's it I think. My brain thinks 'if I go to sleep she may wake me up and I don't want to wake up that way', so it doesn't let me relax and go to sleep at a reasonable hour.

There it is folks. The only question is do I get more therapy (I haven't had it in a while) or just get stronger Melatonin? We'll see. Any suggestions would be great.

#trauma #i need sleep #sleep #ptsd #ptsd recovery

Yes I'm angry

you never dealt with your issues

you could've worked through your PTSD and none of this would've happened

how dare you pass it onto me.

when I look in the mirror and see your eyes, I see your color hair, your love of art, your confidence, your style - I'm terrified

You swore to not be like your mother, and failed. How can I expect to be different? Who am I to think myself as capable? I look at you and see Cthulhu, a great a terrible beast, but still mesmerizing. I cannot fight the thing. I cannot fight you.

What is my fate? If I can never usurp the terror, shall I crawl around the globe in fear? One day will the beast consume me, tearing every part of me away? Shall I remain a mutant half-monster? Half-human, half-pain and grief?

Or will I become the beats? fated for my own daughter to take my place?

I want to love her, one day, when I have children. But how quickly the hands that hold a child turn and throw the stone. How quickly my mother turned from peace, how can I stop and just hold the child, never breaking it down, when my blood is hers?

she is not here, I am not her. I do not have to be my mother. I will braid hair and cuddle and say goodnight and my daughter will not be afraid. She won't have to watch me for signs of explosion. We may fight, but there are lines we do not cross. I must be better, Lord give me strength

#motherhood #reflection #trauma #sadnees

henk-heijmans

Broad-snouted caiman baby in mother mouth being carried from the nest, Sante Fe, Argentina, 2013 - by Mark MacEwen, English

How do I consolidate the two versions of the woman I thought I knew?

As a kid I could separate the two - the loving and the violent

But now they've merged, I can't separate her from herself anymore

This is so strange.

sorry, just trying to process

#processing #vent #parents #considering no-contact

are there any clown breeds smaller than other ones? I'm quite petite and I don't think I could handle a regular Harlequin if it grew to its normal size. Maybe a shorter crossbreed?

#clown husbandry