#traumatic childhood

[deeptrospection]

[jaded-but-softening]

[nothing0fnothing]

I remember one time my mum was really mad at me over basically nothing, and she made me a sandwich so aggressively I cried at the kitchen table as she did it.

She slammed the plate down with so much force it cracked and made me jump backwards. I was sobbing at this point and wasn't really on a position where I could eat, but when I tried to tell her I didn't want it anymore she screamed. Not like, words. Just loud shrill screaming. And slammed her hands on the table.

I was about nine years old and far smaller than her, so of course, afraid of her. So I choked the thing down and I swear I could feel the bad vibes of the food entering my body as I ate it.

When I was done I stayed at the table. Too afraid to get up without asking but also too afraid to ask. I sat there crying until she told me that watching me stuff food into my face while I was crying made her feel sick, that I disgusted her, and that she just wanted me out of her sight.

"Go." she said "Now!" She shouted it inches from my face.

I scrambled up and started booking it away, hoping this meant it was almost over.

"Oh you're just going to leave your dirty plate for me to clean?" She said. "Mum's a skivvy. Mum will clean it. Mum will do fucking everything in this house will I?" She followed, banging a stainless steel pan off the granite countertop so she had to shout to be heard over it.

I stopped in my tracks and hesitated for a second to go back over, worried that it would mean closing the distance between us and put me at easy hair pulling/hitting range. I must have hesitated a second too long, because she lunged at me and shoved me sideways, bruising my elbow as it made sharp first contact with the wall.

I winced and resisted the urge to rub it. She smashed the plate over the tap and then raised her hand to backhand me across the mouth as I stood dumbly watching her, waiting for further instruction now the plate she'd just asked me to wash was in pieces in the sink.

She made a hands closing around my throat, strangling motion. My eyes darted between her and the plate, willing to wash up the shards if she wanted me to, but unsure if that would make things worse.

"I don't want to hear you. I don't want to see you. I don't want to smell you. All weekend. Got it?"

I nodded anxiously, barely believing my luck as I fled up the stairs and into my bedroom. I shut the door behind me and stood in the center of my room, watching it. I watched it till downstairs went quiet, waited for the sound of the TV coming on. Then I sat on my bed watching it, jumping up every time a creak from downstairs indicated someone had gotten off the couch. When my heart rate evened out and I felt the familiar wash of exhaustion, I assumed she was feeling the same. So I felt safe enough to crawl under the covers to cry silently. Muffling any stray sobs into my pillow.

I spent the weekend in my room. Napping. Drawing. Holding my pee until I was sure she wouldn't see me on the landing. Drinking from the bathroom sink. Reading. Watching my TV on mute. Eating whatever snacks I had to hand. Pretending I didn't exist.

And then, like magic, she appeared on Monday morning. All smiles and sunny disposition. Chatting while I got dressed for school. Acting like that whole weekend never happened. I took her cue and did the same.

[drama-glob]

Poor Ragatha having such a terrible mom because you can see her genuine happiness when taking about the farm, but the moment she thinks about her mom, the pain and trauma is so visible, not to mention her own words on the matter providing further detail. ;_; ;_; ;_; They animated her expressions so well here (as well as the voice acting was great) because you can just see how on the verge of tears she is the more she talks along with the misery she felt under her mom. ;_; ;_; ;_; Her deflecting at the end though is sadly in character for her since we know she generally tries not to bring people down as well as express how she's really feeling, no doubt brought on by her upbringing to be a "proper lady" and not express negative feelings/her true self in general. :(

[saltair-and-webweaves]

Please, picture me in the weeds. Before I learned civility.

@ryebreadgf/@delicatethunders/@ 1victiim23 on twitter/orson scott card/unknown/origin of the marble forest - gregory orr/i can’t unsee my childhood - nivya/unknown/@inanotherunivrse/seven - taylor swift

[yourhealingjournal]

the time you spent healing is not wasteful and you can still feel sad about the things you missed out on because you took time to heal.

[michaelwantscaramel]

actually i think i'm doing alright for someone who went through various experiences that could've left me dead. you're doing alright too.

[manincaffeine]

Late-night thoughts just hitting me, so here we go.

People always ask me, Why are you so romantic? Why do you have so much love in you? But no one ever truly understands. They never try to see the guy behind all that love, the one who just wants to be loved, the one who’s been scared of being alone his whole life.

Since childhood, he’s felt lonely. He’s been craving love from his parents, just wanting to know what love even feels like. He spent years locked in a room with only books and silence for company. While other kids played outside, he just watched from a distance. All he ever wanted was to make friends, to run around and laugh like the rest of them.

He had dreams so many of them. But slowly, one by one, those dreams faded away.

He grew up learning how to cry in silence, late at night, when no one was around to hear. That boy tried many times to end it all… to hurt himself, to make the pain stop. But over time, he got used to it. He survived. He learned something: maybe God gave him this life not to break him, but to shape him into someone who could still bring light into the darkness.

So he became his own warrior. Still is. Still fighting the demons that live inside him.

People only see the love he gives now the affection, the warmth, the tenderness but they never ask why he gives it so deeply.

And now, after all these years, he’s come to realize something.

Love… maybe it’s not for him.

Maybe he won't ever get the kind of love he’s always longed for. But that won’t stop him. Bcs he’s made peace with one thing If he can't receive the love he dreamed of, he'll spend his life giving it to others. As much as he can.