“One day, he’s going to know. He’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parent’s names. He’ll know how old you were when you learned to play violin, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school. He’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your laugh lines, and your birthmarks. He’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. He’s going to know why you wake up in the middle of the night most nights, where you were when you realised you had lost yourself, why you picked up the razor, and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. He’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. He’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your mother. He’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. He’s going to know about your love for all things salted caramel, your dream of being a vet when you were five, your need to sing along to every song you know, and your fears of growing older. He’ll know your bad habits, your mannerisms, your stroppy pout, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s his favourite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget, and kiss. He’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, tiles for the bathroom, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls. He’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clean clothes out for days, get scared ordering at a store, have to organise your DVD’s by genre, and check your horoscope… just in case. He’ll know your McDonald’s order, how you don’t like sugar in your coffee, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that you don’t like sandwiches unless they’re toasted. He’s going to know how you feel without telling him, when you’re holding in a laugh, and that you’re crying without shedding tears. He’s going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. He’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else? He is still going to love you.”
— He’ll Know / Love
“Took a break to find myself, but instead I found you.”
— back and better than ever
Sometimes I need everyone around me to validate that what I went through was in fact traumatic because I might feel like it wasn’t bad enough to still be so affected by it.
And that’s really fucked up.
“I thought I was over you, but my walls slowly crumbled to the ground the moment I saw your face for the first time in a while.”
-Anonymous
People commend my parents by saying that I was “raised right,” when I show hyper-empathy/higher-than-average emotional intelligence in a lot of situations. No. I was emotionally abused, manipulated, silenced, and made to feel selfish my entire life, whenever I took care of myself. I never want anyone else to feel that way. I raised MYSELF, not them. I retaught and am constantly reparenting MYSELF, without their help. They deserve little to no credit on forming the person that I am becoming.
I’m sick of flinching when people move. I’m sick of panic attacks in public because I thought I saw your face. I want to sleep but nightmares haunt my slumber and keep me awake. YOU may not have put your hands on me but there are people who have. You never touched me, you just scream and rave and threaten and starve me. I still remember hiding the bruises. Long sleeved shirts in summer and knowing stares. Head down, curl in, be small, make no noise. These habits have stayed with me.
I really don’t like how society demonizes crying. You’re seen as weak or manipulative if you shed any tears at all about anything. People look down upon you if you cry, or think you’re “faking for attention.” Even in the media, a character learning not to cry is considered good character development, and a character who does frequently cry is portrayed as weak or cowardly.
The truth is, crying is one of the healthiest coping mechanisms humans have for stress. It’s been scientifically proven that the chemical composition of emotional tears (compared to basal and irritant tears) purges stress hormones from the body and produces a relaxing effect at a biological level. It’s also nonviolent (more than can be said for the more socially acceptable anger response). Humans evolved to cry for a reason.
If one isn’t allowed to cry (if they would be shamed/abused for it), the stress hormones will build up and cause illness later on. They will have to force themselves to cry because their first instinct will be to repress the tears. They wouldn’t be able to cry in front of people anymore, either.
Go ahead and cry if you need to, for whatever reason. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with it.
“Waking up with your heart broken from the night before is probably the worse feeling I have ever experienced.”
-I dont wanna go on.
Do you know what I hate most about abuse? It makes you “crazy”. It makes you angry and tearful and volatile. And that in and of itself leads people to dismiss your story when you say you have been abused. They use your unstable emotions as an excuse not to believe you or to say that it’s at least partially your fault. It seems like almost nobody but other survivors stop to wonder how you got that way to begin with
“When you are attracted to people, it’s because of the details. Their kindness. Their eyes. The fact that they can get you to laugh when you need it the most.”
— Jodi Picoult
reminder that many abuse victims get triggered by anger, whether it’s directed at them or not. please be mindful of your actions
Everything seems to be so hard. A blog about feelings, poetry, mental health and past trauma experiences and about living with it.
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