On this spring morning, with my cat by my side, I began my usual ritual of talking myself into facing another day. Yet, I felt lighter that day. Something was different. I viewed a smile in my mirror and felt an urge to scream without fright. Initially, I cautioned myself to hide my feelings; then, …
What could have made me want to give up on living? What gave me hope? What helped me discover how to laugh, cry, and experience fear without failure? No longer do I carry the tightness of constant wonderings of what I am doing wrong, or who may attack me next. You guessed correctly, “Trauma Recovery” …
Yesterday, or should I admit that during the last week or so, I fell back into the trap formed by the words of my abusers. I kept hearing, “No matter what you do, failure is the only thing you’re good for.” Without dissociation continuing to protect me, I am now able to experience feelings. So …
Is my Birthday, December 17th, a curse, or just another day blended into the supposed joyous days of the holidays? Everywhere I go, the jingles of the season can be heard with smiling faces looking forward to time spent exchanging gifts with family and friends. I look upon those faces and wonder if the pages …
Why was I encouraged to become a survivor if the pain was going to continue? Have you ever wanted to say these things to someone? No, I am not looking for excuses for why I can’t go out. No, I am not making excuses regarding why I have never been able to keep a steady …
An “All Saints’ Day” Birthday does not ANOINT a “Wicked Abuser!” As a child, “All Saints’ Day,” the day after Halloween, was a day off from school. Each year, I was to spend “All Saints’ Day” in the worship of the “Saint” in my life. As an adult, I learned to dread Halloween because …
To my Mommy and Daddy: Mommy, why do you say you need me? You say I abused you. How many times have you told me that as a child, I was cruel to you? Could I have been reacting to your actions? And, Daddy, why was I your black sheep? I loved and adored you! …
No matter how long I am in recovery, I feel as if triggers will always be a part of my life. Last week, my extremely malignant narcissistic mother approached me with what seemed like kindness. Of course, I knew it was fake; she needed something. I controlled my emotions, told her nothing about my life, …
Her heart is that of ice. Her eyes are a greyish tint, resembling the glassy glair of a wolf. With her hands, she inflicts pain, never allowing her arms to extend a hug. When I close my eyes, I see her peering down on me as I feel the sting of her latest attack. As …
No matter what our circumstances are, they could be worse. Each time I cry a tear for the struggles I am forced to go through, I think about what someone else might be doing at that moment. In the time that it is taking for me to write this, someone is dying, someone is being beaten, …