#surivivor

[riffatmatinpoetry]

I’ve gone through my lowest points and survived now watch me get up and thrive.

Affirmation of the day.

[sirens0ng]

Thank you all for dealing with me posting some nfsw posts 💕 it's taken a long time to be okay with my body and an abusive relationship to love myself and this is the only place I feel safe to show my love for myself. So thank you all. I love you💕

[thebloodclotgirl]

Welcome

Hi, I’m a 16 (17 on 20th of February) old girl from the UK. This is my story. I remember getting pain in my lower back on the left side but I though it was a bit of back pain. It continued to get worse by the day to the point that I couldn't even sleep at night unless I had pain killers in my system. It got to the point where I couldn't walk on it and every time I attempted to move anywhere I’d end up being sick from the pain. This all began after I went on the contraceptive patch. I went to a health clinic to get a contraception about a month before my birthday as it was my 16th and I have a boyfriend and my mum wanted me to be safe. It turned out I shouldn't of had this contraception as my nan has had blood clots since her last pregnancy has been passed down. The patch from what I've been told is 2x more likely to give you blood clots over the pill that has oestrogen in. Anyway back to what happened. My doctor asked for a wee sample to check for a wee infection but that came back negative and he thought it was just a pulled muscle. Anyway it got worse and in the end my mum got me an emergency doctors appointment where after them taking my observations etc I had red flags for sepsis which they called an ambulance for and I was blue lighted to the hospital. They did multiple tests and scans to try and figure it out and then they found a big blood clot that went from my pelvis down to roughly my knee. I also had a infection in my pelvis and infected white blood cells on my lungs. I got moved to another hospital and I ended up being moved to ICU (Intensive Care Unit) as my temperature was super high and I was bed ridden and needed some extra supervision. I had some amazing nurses who made me feel like I was their own daughter. During one of my “turnovers” (where I had to roll on either side of my body to stop bed sores) one of the nurses noticed a red line going across my back from my bad leg. She marked where it finished so she could check to see if it moved. She came back and checked a few hours after and had notice it was now nearly fully across my back. She said it looked like the beginning of sepsis so went and got a doctor who confirmed it. The changed my antibiotics and I responded to them positively and ended up getting better but the road to recovery hasn't gone smoothly and I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that I was on my deathbed last March and almost lost my life to this. I’ve now ended up with post thrombosis and still on blood thinners and I now have a compression bandage to help the swelling. Feel free to ask my any questions and if the story doesn't make sense I’m sorry but I tried to fit everything important in. This is where I’m going to document my daily struggles, recovery etc. I have been diagnosed with Factor V Leiden which is a mutation in my genes.

[precious-fowl]

Hear ye hear ye people of the interwebs, I am Lost Girl and this is my story. I had anxiety for as long as I can remember, developed depression around puberty while my parents got divorced. I almost killed myself because it got so bad while everyone in my family was too busy with their own problems to notice. Thankfully my brother became cognizant of my perdiciment long enough to give me the sagely advise: That’s the easy way out. You know we don’t ever do what’s easiest. Surprisingly this challenged me enough to solider on until I found friends to confide in and help me out of that dark hole. Once again all was well and appropriately antsy in this young teens life. Both anxiety and depression were written off as perfectionism, nervousness, loneliness, neediness, and being just plain odd. Then it was announced that I would be moving half way across the country, leaving everything I had ever known. This was not a fun time. It was this point in time I started to realize that maybe there was a difference between my tendency to fall into a funk, and just being a sad kid. But I wouldn’t dare utter the “D” word. Instead I desperately tried to conform myself to fit in, but also be myself, and high school just ended up being mostly he’ll for me, surprise surprise. The only saving grace offered to me was the discovery of theatre. For the most part I was able to convince myself and others that all was well. Having been the perfect, antisocial academic conformist in high school, desperately trying to please everyone but myself, shortly after graduation I decided to rebel, which only ended with the discoveries of an allergy to weed, the betrayal of a friend, and that the trust I had placed with the loss of my innocence was indeed, misplaced trust. As I moved on to University I desperately tried to forget the misfortunes of that summer. Unfortunately my next great upset would wreck my carefully constructed reality. I dated a little here and there, but nothing more than a week or two and someone would lose interest, until November of my freshman year. I met a guy through my Residence Hall Association. Our first date was on Halloween, my favorite holiday. He took me to a small airport outside of town and we parked outside the fence and looked at the stars and even watched an airplane take off. Then he asked me if I wanted to go back to his dorm and watch movies, which I took at face value. That was the first time he raped me. I convinced myself that I must have wanted it! I had engaged in sex once before willingly so I must have just wanted… He made my picture his phone background. We were dating. He didn’t like my friends though. I didn’t see my friends. All of my spare time was with him. The month of November just blurs together nowadays. A lot of crying by myself and smiling in public.I remember often saying no until he wore me down, I became quieter and quieter, until I just cried silently. I must have wanted. He took me to meet his family. He must love me. He also made me take a morning after pill by myself while he went to go play video games. My stomach never hurt so much in my life. Neither has my heart. Finally as I realized something was wrong. Finding logic in word I wrote a letter/speech to explain my issues with our relationship, what I thought might fix it, and conditions on how it might continue. Once I was finally able to get a hold of him, he asked me if I was pregnant, because that, in his mind, was the only reason I could want to talk to him after he mostly stopped talking and/or texting me for a time. Eventually we met in a dorm cafeteria, and he asked me if we were breaking up, with no real interest, so I just said yes. I was free, or so I thought. I desperately wanted to validate that some part of me was willing to have sex quickly in a relationship, and convince myself that nothing bad had happened to me, so I did. And the next guy was so sweet, but something was just wrong. And I was just broken inside. I tried desperately to ignore all of this though. I sought out the great Tinder. Eventually finding a guy that I was willing to meet in person. This guy was not normal though. When he suggested Netflix and chill, I was prepared to once again convince myself I was who I pretend to be, but instead we watched a comidians routine on Netflix from the pillow seats he made on the floor. I didn’t touch his bed. This routine continue and I didn’t have to pretend with him. Unfortunately that meant when he held me, and touched my back, I felt the ghost of unfriendly hands. Panic attacks were common for me at this point, and I tried to normalize them, but he wouldn’t let me, so I told him about November. He was so hurt I felt like I had wounded him by telling him what had happened: I dated a guy who didn’t know the meaning of the word no. This new boy would eventually convince me to go seek counseling. It was May of my freshman year before I ever uttered the word “rape.” It was October of my Sophomore year before I decided to talk to the Dean of students and seek justice for myself. It was January of my Sophomore year be the time they told me they weren’t going to do anything about my rape. Now I am a Junior, my rapist still attends my University. I have been diagnosed with PTSD which has made my depression and anxiety spike tremendously. I can’t function properly without my daily medications. I take 9 pills for anxiety and a birthday control pill so I will never have to take a morning after pill again even if something horrid were to happen to me again. But that nice new boy that got me to go to counseling is still by my side. We just moved in together. I work with the office of disability accommodations, and test in quiet rooms, and my grades are going back to what they were, I might even make the dean’s list next semester. What happened to me was wrong. How my University handled it was wrong. Title 9 is wrong. But I am still here. Countless thoughts of suicide, nights of crying on the floor because I didn’t have the strength to get up, fake friends telling me to “get over it,” and real friends breaking the news that that may never happen, but promising to be there no matter what. I am sharing my story because it is my origin story. It’s sad, but I’m still here. I am here, and I will fight. I will aggressively love every survivor, I will support knowledge, and changing the broken system we are currently bound to, and I will be here to fight for anyone who feels too weak to fight for themselves because I was once that person. I will be the rock for others to lean on.

[rachim4]

I feel bad for alecia she just wanted to help and shes just gettin bullied. I also actually feel bad for caleb even though he was an ass on BB it still was a sad sight to see