#(unresolved trauma)

[sparklygrrl]

Back Here Again?

We are sprawled on the couches in the living room. Niu Niu, our rescued Shanghai street dog, is curled in behind my oldest daughter's knees. My daughter is stretched out on one side of the sectional, looking at her phone.  She flew in from the 'Big Smoke' for her reading week.  We are watching Taylor Swift's Era tour on Disney. 

The subtitles to the song lyrics display across the bottom of the TV screen. The cleverness of the language play elicits a higher regard for the artist whom has been a fixture in our household since my daughter was 10, singing 'Love Story' with the little girl gang at day care. Tucked in with my dog and my girls, my tears erupt unchecked.  

It is my birthday weekend.  I am turning 53. I am surrounded by people who love me in a house that is paid for, on the ocean with an amazing view.  I count my many blessings. I still feel empty and sad.

[unwelcome-ozian]

[ponkydraws]

“You have unresolved trauma” ok but how do I resolve it. Hello. How do I resolve it. How do I un-unresolve it. Hey. You can’t just leave me hanging

[deathtoyouandtoyours]

Nobody ever tells you the uglier side of recovery. Especially when your mental illness is stacked on top of other issues than cannot be cured.

Take dental hygiene for example. Say you've been deeply depressed for years, to the point of not brushing your teeth. Add ADHD and autism to that, making it even harder.

After several years, I've entirely fucked my teeth. Now that it's just SLIGHTLY better, I could start working on dental hygiene... But what's the point? The damage is done. It's irreparable without major, expensive surgery, and at this point, I might as well get a whole new mouth.

I'm left wondering, "what the hell is the point?" And I start to regret the miniscule amount of progress I've made and the fact that I survived this long.

[calmmyfears]

I grew up without my father, he's still alive but I am not allowed to have contact with him, I am used to the grief of not having a father. But every once in a while, this wave of insurmountable grieve crashes into me and I just sit there unable to breathe knowing something terribly went wrong but I am supposed to act normal, live my life and pretend it is totally fine 🙂

[goopymess]

"why do you feel the need to vent so much" I'm sorry is all the years of unresolved trauma and unmedicated and unattended mental illness, oh also the constant fear of it all repeating again.

[wordsofwisdomandsoul]

[peyton--warren]

Doing my civic duty isn’t supposed to trigger my trauma. Isn’t supposed to send me into a depressive spiral for days. I just need the world to fuck off and leave me alone, stop piling more shit on top of me til I’m certain next load of shit is gonna break me fully, only it doesn’t. But I’m still positive the very next pile is going to break me.

Im tired. Im done. Im shutting down. And I don’t like being here.

[deathtoyouandtoyours]

I hate it when people are subtly assholes. I already have an awful time remembering things some days.

That, and my family already thinks I'm weak and useless. My father problems are overtaking my my mother issues at the moment, and I remind her that he's been acting more and more like a dick overtime. I told her months ago, but she brushed it off. Someone asks for context. She tells them it's because I was upset about having to do the dishes...

I'm not a fucking toddler.

I can handle being asked to do fucking chores just fucking fine. The problem is that he would randomly threaten to beat my ass or tell me and my brother that we're fucking assholes and tell us that no one cares about him and wants him to die... The thing is, I did most of the cooking and a good chunk of the cleaning. This rat fucking bastard never bothered cleaning his room, which over time, could've caused us to get evicted.

Not only that, but he'd blame my mother's disability to worm himself out of responsibility until it became an actual issue, then it's suddenly all her fault. Literally fuck both of them. She's not the only person he's hurt and vice versa, but I look fucking insane because I'm the only one (other than the two of them) that's gotten the worst of them.

AND NO ONE IN MY FAMILY EVER FUCKING BELIEVES HOW BAD IT CAN GET.

I hate this shit. I hate having been raised by terrible people. I hate living with terrible people. I'm already at the edge of my fucking rope, partially because of this bastard, but I can't afford to do anything stupid for that same reason. You tell me to hurry up and get a job and then you steal the goddamn car. No one wants to fucking hire me, and you ruin my chances even more. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

Even if I do get a normal job that I have to commute to daily, I'll only last so long. There's a metaphorical bomb strapped to my fucking chest and I can only hope I'll have enough money to cover the costs of the fallout by the time it detonates.

I desperately need someone to let me cry into their chest until I can't breathe. Please. I can't take being an adult anymore

[lowkeyanerd]

I've grown sick trying to love who I am.

[unwelcome-ozian]

[li-nox]

You gotta understand something. After your mother passed all I saw was evil. Everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you prepared. Ready. See, somewhere along the line, I stopped being your father and I-- I became your-- Your drill sergeant. – John Winchester

[wordsofwisdomandsoul]

[ladyfogg]

I love minding my business when being overcome by a wave of anger over something that happened years ago. 

[bryonyashaw]

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