Discover Top Posts Tagged with #cptsd flashbacks

me: *finished with tasks, about to go to sleep*

me: "I need to think about what I'll say about that debilitating flashback in my next therapy session"

me: *thinks about the trigger and flashback*

the flashback: *harms me further*

I have some very poorly thought out ideas sometimes. Imma be real. That was not pleasant.

#ink.post #ptsd #ptsd flashback #ptsd flashbacks #cptsd flashback #cptsd flashbacks #mentally ill posting #traumatic flashback

So I just sorted out through my entire wardrobe and accessories that doesn’t fit me or I use anymore.

I still cannot believe I was a size 6-8 years ago. Like wtf! I was that starved, I was that neglected, even as an adult, I was tiny. It’s no wonder people see me now and don’t recognise me. Like not only I grew 6 sizes bigger but I’m taller now. Like wtf.

I don’t think I’ve ever come to terms that my own home was a prison cell. I wasn’t allowed to have food, I wasn’t allowed to have friends, I wasn’t allowed to have a bf (my family had to pick him). I wasn’t allowed to dress how I want, I wasn’t allowed to be happy.

Like, I get why people don’t recognise me and I get why people are so shocked when they see me now. Before when I was living with my family, I could easily fit into asian small sizes. Even worse, I could fit into children’s sizes no problem. That still shocks me. That still terrifies me. I still can’t get my head around it.

I don’t know what made me go through my wardrobe and get rid of everything that doesn’t fit me anymore. I know I needed to get rid of them because when I bought new clothes, I could barley fit anything. But the first thing when I was getting rid and sorting it out, a flood of memories and emotions that just hit me like a fucking bulldozer.

I get why people hoard, they don’t want to deal with the emotions. So they just collect and collect and collect. I couldn’t live like that tho, having even little amount of clutter pisses me off. So I had to get rid, I like having that minimalistic decor in my flat. The less clutter the better.

So when I was sorting out everything, I think I was in denial on how bad the abuse was. It explains why the nhs can’t help me, I’m too server. There’s a lot that happened in my life and of course it keeps coming back on how people compared to me to my fucking fucked up family, I’m like; HELLO!!! IM NOT MY FUCKING FAMILY!

The only person who saw me as fucking me, was my bf. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a saint. I’m not in the slightest, I know I was toxic. But at least I never black mailed, I never gave out anonymous death threats and I never slept with my best friends bf. I never took children away for money, I never abused my power so I can get back at people. My mother did all of that. I’m not my fucking mother.

I was the scapegoat in my family, I was being used in so many different ways. My privacy was invaded, my trust was gone, my everything was shattered. I was raped as a young child and none of my family even helped me. They knew about the rape, but they never helped me. They just saw me as an object, never as a human being with fucking emotions.

I can’t forgive my family for that.

Even the people saw me being treated like shit, so they copied thinking it’s normal. Again, I felt used. I felt I was an object, not a human being with fucking emotions. When I cut myself from everyone, it felt good. It felt so good.

Now no one can say I start shit, no one can say I cause drama. Don’t get me wrong, if I don’t like something or someone is being bullied, I will speak up about it. I don’t stay quiet, fuck that. But yeahh, I don’t cause unnecessary drama. I haven’t got the patience for that. There’s no need and no point to cause hate for no fucking reason. My family used to do that all the time and I have zero, absolute zero patience for it.

I think the more that I’m being myself, like I dress how I want, wear makeup how I want; hopefully the more people will see me as me. Not my fucking mother. I hope so one day. That would be a dream come true.