copingwithbonnie

[copingwithbonnie]

I want to end it

It’s too much to handle, I don’t think I can keep going. I keep pushing every day for everyone. I feel like I’m bleeding out. Everyone is seeing me bleed out and is trying their best but can’t do anything about it because no matter how much they try, it’s hopeless. I’m suffering so badly. I physically feel so much pain because of my mental state.

If you’re wondering, I went to therapy. All the therapist could say is “Try to let it not get to you,” I wish it were that easy. I’ve been feeling like throwing up for the past hour because of how stressed out I am mentally. I don’t think I can hold on anymore.

Therapy is so expensive and I only get paid 10/hr. I’m trying to move out of my toxic house but I am not able to get more than 25hrs a week. It feels like I’m in a cycle, and it’s making me go insane. My home is so abusive and toxic, and my parents do nothing about it. I feel like I’m running away from a murderer, and they’re getting closer and closer to me every day. I’m becoming more and more exhausted of running while they’re getting faster. I’m in so much pain.

I’m so sorry. If I survive, I’ll update in a month. If not, this is my last post.

[copingwithbonnie]

Father Figure

I’ve been avoiding speaking of this certain topic, but I had a flashback in my dream, and I can’t hold back anymore. Though I am a victim, I feel guilty about speaking of this certain topic because I still love my dad, and he hasn’t hurt me since 2018. Even though this is true, I still feel pain and trauma from those memories, and what keeps me thinking of the pain is the uncertainty: the unanswered questions. Those unanswered questions are what keep me hurting, and I wish it were so simple as to ask those questions, but it’s a lot more complicated than that. You don’t just ask someone those questions.

The event that happened in 2018 has not been spoken of since it was “resolved”, but it is far from resolved because there are still questions left unanswered. I’m sure you’re probably wondering, “What happened in 2018?”, so I will now get into it.

DISCLAIMER: The following information are my personal experiences. The topic may be sensitive to some, involving sexual assault and harassment…

During my first semester as a sophomore in high school, I was in cross country, and I had just broken a relationship with someone that I had loved. I broke up with him because my parents didn’t agree with me dating at such a young age, and I didn’t want to continue putting him in pain. Despite how much I loved him, I felt that it would be best for him if we had broken up. My dad helped me break up with him by making me act it out with him so that I would be mentally prepared. The following day, we had broken up, and I was devastated, but my dad continued to be there for me every step of the way.

I continued focus on my cross country, and the more advanced I got in cross country, the more my dad had gotten closer. He started to compliment me more on my shape, and at first, I thought it was nice, but over time, it started to become uncomfortable. Instead of just complimenting my calves, he started talking about how my butt was getting bigger or talked about the details of my nipples through my shirt. I started to hate being alone with him because the only time he’d bring this up is when we were alone together. Even though I felt uncomfortable with this, I let it slide because “he isn’t physically hurting me,”

I continued to think this way until one day, I developed shin splints from cross country. It was painful dealing with shin splints, but I continued to run because running was something I deeply enjoyed doing in my free time. My shin splints somewhat healed as the race started to come up, and I was determined to race, so the night before, I gathered my clothes together and my cross country bag, and once I finished, my dad called me to his room. Mom wasn’t there. I told him that I wanted to go to bed, trying to escape that room, but he insisted that I should stay. He told me that he really wanted to massage my shin splints, and even though I denied over and over, he told me that I really needed a massage so that I don’t hurt myself during the race.

After I failed to escape, I reluctantly laid on his bed so that he can give me a massage, and as I laid on my belly, he started rubbing my shins. He continued to do this for a minute or two, and then afterwards, he started going up my legs, reaching my thighs right below my butt. I felt uncomfortable, but I couldn’t say anything. I felt tongue-tied; unable to speak. He continued to do this, and when I looked back, he laughed awkwardly, and I nervously did too, and he went back to massaging my shins. He then let me go, and I went in my room and laid on my bed sort of paralyzed. “Why did he rub all the way up my thighs? He was so close to my butt,” I felt so confused, uncomfortable, and scared, so I avoided thinking about it because being uncertain was what pained me the most. Because of this event, I feel uncomfortable receiving massages to this day. Despite this event happening, I continued to let it slide because I didn’t want to believe that he was thinking of me in a sexual context.

Later on in my cross country season, I started to realize that my dad would stare at my boobs, and when I would look back, I would catch him looking at my butt. It got so bad to the point that he’d do that right in front of Mom. It was like his eyes were glued onto those two certain parts of my body, and I couldn’t get him to look me in the eyes anymore. I knew that if anyone left me and dad alone, he would instantly bring up those parts of my body, “complimenting” me of them, and so I avoided him more and more to the point that he started coming into my room instead. It was like there was no escape.

During this time, I started to develop panic attacks from my anxiety, and my chest hurt more and more. My dad started to notice, and one day when Mom was at work, he asked me to go into his room to check up on me. He knew of my chest hurting and asked me to take my bra off so that he can feel my chest. I told him that I was fine, but he insisted again because “he wanted to make sure” that my chest was okay. Reluctantly, I took my bra off, and after feeling on my chest, he said that he felt nothing wrong. During this time, the constant staring and the sexual “complimenting” was still very prevalent, and so him wanting to feel my chest made me feel uncomfortable.

Cross country season had ended, and second semester of sophomore year begun. It’s been about half a year since I broke up with my boyfriend, and so my dad started to question my sexuality. Mom left for work, and as usual, my dad called me into his room again.

Dad: Are you okay being single still? Me: Yeah, I’m fine. Are there any boys crushing on you? Not really. I bet that’s not true. Well, even if guys likes me, I don’t like have anyone that I like. Well are you into guys or girls? Haha I’m into guys. (He continues to pry about my sexuality) Dad: You know, we’ve never had the talk yet. Me: I don’t want to have that talk. But we’re going to have to talk about it sometime.

Since this was years ago, I can’t remember the specific details of the conversation, but I remember him asking if I masturbate, and I expressed that I was uncomfortable, but he continued to pry about it until I got angry. That was the first time that I had gotten angry with him about the sexual harassment, and I stormed out of the room.

I didn’t think things would be able to get worse than that, but it did. My dad was curious about my sexual life and started to tease me about it. I remember it started in the kitchen… I already felt uncomfortable being alone with him there, and he asked if I was into girls or guys again, and I responded that I’m into guys. He started to look at me somewhat seriously and said, “You better be,” and put his hand around my neck and started to tease about how I’m probably the type to like being choked during sex.

These types of conversations lasted until the beginning of my junior year when Mom figured out. The way my dad resolved it was by saying, “I didn’t mean to. I had no sexual intentions with you,” When he said that, I started to believe him after some time and didn’t think about it much, but it doesn’t add up. If he didn’t have any sexual intentions, why did he stare at my chest and my butt almost every single time I came in the room? Why would he bring up kinks with me like in the kitchen when he choked me? Why did he massage so closely to my butt when massaging my shins? If he didn’t feel guilty about the stuff that he did, then why would he only do these things when we were alone together and as soon as mom left? It doesn’t add up.

These questions are left unanswered, and the more I wonder, the more I hurt. I’m worried that I might have another trauma block because of how much I’m hurting mentally from these memories. I want to forget these memories, but I know that if I do, I will forget other memories of sophomore and junior year of high school. If I forget these memories now, they might come back as a flashback. I don’t know how to live with these memories without feeling pain. I don’t know what to do.

[copingwithbonnie]

Did I Do Something Wrong?

I have a great relationship and a great boyfriend, but sometimes I feel that I’m not worthy of them because of my low self-esteem. I believe I am problematic because I have issues with anxiety, and sometimes, my anxiety can get in the way of my relationships.

For example, recently, when I opened up with my one friend, he and another person said that they’d be glad to hear me open up again whenever I needed. I was glad, but then I started to think more and more about what they said. “What if they were only saying that to be nice?” I thought, “What if they don’t really want to hear me rant and think it’s annoying but don’t want to be rude?” The more I thought about this, the more anxious I got, and I ended up having a panic attack.

I developed this mindset after dealing with my ex. For the sake of privacy, I will be using the name Aman for him. When I opened up with my ex, Aman, and his friends about my trauma, they told me that I can talk with them about my problems any time I wanted to. I was grateful, and I did what they told me. They got annoyed because my mental health wasn’t improving and told me that I was probably pretending and lying for attention. My trust was broken, and I felt hurt.

To this day, I still have issues opening up to people I love because having my trust broken from them hurts the most, so whenever someone tells me that I can open up to them whenever I want to, I get reminded of my ex and refrain from allowing myself to open up. This way, I wouldn’t be able to have my trust broken nor feel that unbearable hurt that I did with Aman.

Because of the events with Aman, I also have issues telling people that I have anxiety now. At one point in my life, I started to ignore and deny that I had anxiety because I was afraid that people would judge me. Thanks to one of my new friends, he read me like a book and told me that I had anxiety, and by recognizing it, I can now focus on healing.

Because of the events with my ex, I also start to believe that everything is my fault. I feel that I am to blame, and it’s really hard to snap out of that mindset unless someone reminds me. To cope with this, I bought a journal to write down whenever I’m having a panic attack. Writing down in this notebook will help me realize what is reality versus what’s only in my head.

Anxiety is really hard to cope with because there’s another mind in your head that’s putting you and everyone in the world down. It demonizes people and the world around you, and you start to believe that you’re not good enough. Surviving with this mindset is tough, but I will continue to fight. I won’t allow myself to give up, and for those who are also dealing with anxiety, you will survive. You are bigger than your anxiety.

[copingwithbonnie]

I Got Sick

After opening up to my parents about my trauma block, they had disregarded my emotions. After leaving that unproductive conversation, I had felt a sense of numbness. I felt nothing except disappointment. Though once the day started to end, my emotions became strong, and I felt broken and started to fall into a depression. The people that I need the most support from abandoned my emotions. I talked to my friends about this, and thankfully they were there to help me when I needed it the most.

Though I had my friends, I still felt extremely heartbroken, and this caused me to develop unhealthy habits. I slowly became unorganized with my school work and missed a couple of deadlines. I procrastinated so much that I’d do every assignment last minute. I wouldn’t leave my bed nor talk to my family unless I was hungry or needed to use the restroom, and because I wouldn’t leave my bedroom much, I ate less and less every day.

Being vulnerable and mentally unhealthy started to affect my physical self, and I got sick. I would cough up a lot of phlegm and wasn’t able to get out of bed for hours after waking up. I did a lot of research and am very certain that I am not infected with Covid-19, though my allergies are becoming stronger (Allergies are caused by the immune system when it identifies a harmless substance as an infectious agent and in response mounts a full-blown immune system response).

After a couple of weeks passed by, my emotions were not as strong as they were initially, and correspondingly, my allergies stopped being as aggressive. I’m glad I’m feeling better, and I hope it stays that way.

-Bonnie

[copingwithbonnie]

Who are you?

Growing up, most people look back at all of the fun memories they had in their childhood and share those memories with their childhood friends. My current friend did the same thing with me recently. When we were playing Minecraft, he brought up how we used Hamachi VPN to play together in middle school, and how it never worked well, but I didn’t know what he was talking about.

You don’t remember? No. What about that silly shrine you made in the game? I don’t remember that either. Do you remember me? ... No.

That night I told him that I have a trauma block. He wasn’t aware of what a trauma block was, and if you also aren’t aware of what a trauma block is, please refer to the links that I have provided in the “Info” tab on my page. It didn’t occur to me that I had known this person before high school, though some memories that I still obtain supports that statement. For instance, I remember when I first saw him in high school, I said, “So that’s how you look like in person,”

The same thing happened with another friend of mine. When I had joined a friend group with him in it, he went up to me privately and apologized for how rudely he acted in middle school. He told me how often he bullied me and how horrible he had felt, though in my mind, I had just met him. I didn’t know what he was talking about nor who he was at all, and I had no memories that could support his statement, either. He was really confused, and so was I.

That was the day I realized that I barely have memories of my childhood. To this day, I am still discovering memories that I cannot recall. Some of these memories are told to me, and some of these memories pop up out of no where: a flashback. Some flashbacks are good or bland, though unfortunately most are disturbing and cause me to feel emotional distress: PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). These episodes for me personally can last about three to five weeks depending on how traumatic that flashback was.

The worst PTSD episode I had was in March of 2019. I remember how disgusted I felt and how much pain I was in. The memory pained me so much that it started to affect me physically, causing me to have headaches, sharp pains in my heart, and uneasy breathing 24/7. Every time I tried to focus on a school assignment, that memory would invade my brain. I remember it got so unbearable one day that I started banging my head on my desk in my room over and over, and I couldn’t stop screaming because those memories continued to inflict an overwhelming amount of pain onto me. Despite the head banging and screaming, those memories still found a way to scream louder as if it were taunting me. My vision was cloudy from how much I sobbed, and with that blurry vision I saw a knife sitting on the desk.

Self-harm is not a healthy way to cope with trauma, though back then, that was the only “successful” coping mechanism that I knew of. People often mistake self-harm as a suicide attempt. During my PTSD episodes, self-harm was not used as a way to commit suicide but was used to be more painful than my thoughts so that I could be distracted from the memories of my trauma. If you are currently dealing with a traumatic event and need help, please refer to this link.

People who are dealing with these issues need someone to open up to, but unfortunately, people who are dealing with these issues have a hard time opening up or don’t have anyone to confide to. I noticed that people my age don’t ask how their friends are doing anymore, and I want to change that about this world. People should check up on each other more often because it make’s a person feel wanted and sometimes even saves a person’s life. Thanks to my friend that I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I have this blog. Without this blog, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the mornings. So please check up on your friends. It’s the right thing to do.

-Bonnie

[copingwithbonnie]

A Blog Was Born

My childhood wasn't the best thing in the world, and I'm sure you may be able to relate in some way. Though it's sad, knowing that I'm not the only one with an unfortunate childhood brings me comfort because I know I'm not alone. I was never alone to begin with, for I am one of two daughters of a hardworking mother who never gives up, and I'm thankful to have them in my life. Later on in life, my mother found a man who she now calls husband, and I call him Dad.

To explain my childhood story in one post alone would be a long process, so I will be breaking down those events to you in future posts. In short, my childhood was filled with traumatic events, and to deal with my trauma, my family searched for therapists. After many failed attempts, my parents gave up on the idea of therapy and gravitated towards the idea of self-healing, though self-healing can be extremely difficult for a child. I eventually lead to self-harm rather than self-healing, and though these warning signs were very visible, I was still left with no option for therapy. Begging to get therapy was like talking to a brick wall, so I slowly closed off my emotions from the world to protect myself.

Recently, though, I've gained the confidence to open up and ask my parents for therapy again, and with that same question, I got the same result, and I felt the same disappointment I had felt a year or two ago. Being shut down again had pushed me to my breaking point, and I couldn't stay silent anymore, and thus, I started my blog.

Now that I'm eighteen, I am looking for a job so that I will be able to afford therapy. Though I'm not suicidal anymore, I want to take therapy to prevent myself from falling into that place. I hope the first therapist I find will be a good one.

-Bonnie

[copingwithbonnie]

Who is Bonnie?

Hello. If you are wondering who I am, here's an introduction to me, Bonnie. I'm a freshman in college, and I enjoy spending time with people just like everyone else does. A lot of the people I know are into mainstream music, though for me, I enjoy classical, piano music, and occasionally jazz. Growing up, I've always enjoyed listening to classical music because it moves your heart in a certain way that nothing else can replicate. Describing that feeling is almost as complicated as describing love, and I'm glad that I've found something I adore so deeply at such a young age.

Loving something so deeply is something you and I naturally do from the day we're born, though loving one's self is something most of us have to learn to do over time. Learning to love yourself can take years of work, though loving someone else takes as little as a few weeks to a couple of months. Why is that so? Wouldn't it be nice if we could love ourselves as easily as we love other people or other things? For me, it took years of struggling with depression and self-loathing to learn how to love myself, though just as you can fall out of love for someone else, you can fall out of love for yourself.

So, do I love myself? The answer to that would be, "Yes, I do," Just because you love yourself doesn't mean you're always happy though which is why I created this blog in the first place. I'm not happy with a lot of things such as my childhood trauma, my trauma block (memory loss), and how I choose to be oblivious to certain things that bother me, and to cope, I will be going into detail about these issues with you in the future.

-Bonnie