#child trauma

[aburasfamily]

We’ve lost everything. Our home has been destroyed, and we are left with nothing. Our children are in desperate need of warmth, shelter, and food.

We are reaching out to the kind hearts of this community for help. Every little contribution can make a difference. We need beds for our children to sleep in, and we need food to keep them nourished. The winter cold is unbearable, and we can’t keep them warm without your help.

How you can help:

Donate to provide shelter – We need a safe place for our children to sleep.

Donate food – We are in dire need of nourishment for our family.

Donate blankets and clothing – To keep our children warm in these harsh conditions.

Every donation counts, no matter how small. Your support means the world to us as we try to rebuild our lives from the ground up.

Please share this message and spread the word. Together, we can make a difference.

[donation link]

Thank you for your kindness and support.

[rawansoso14]

This is the story of my four-year-old sister soso whose only crime is to be born in northern Gaza. I hope it will touch you, because I don’t know what to say anymore. I don’t know what to share about our situation anymore.

I have lowered my campaign goal because I have lost hope. I wanted to complete it before March when a new semester will begin so I could register for university again and focus on nothing but my studies. I wanted to rebuild our home so we would avoid the years and years of displacement we went through last time it was destroyed. Maybe I dreamed too big. Maybe my life isn’t meant to be rebuilt.

Can we please achieve that at least? I won’t have a home, it’s okay. I’ll study in a tent, but at least I’ll be able to somewhat focus if our needs are met.

Please, I’m not angry if you can’t donate. I understand. But please at least share, it helps a lot too.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #347 )✅

DONATE HERE

I am eternally grateful to anyone who helps in any way 🙏

[bleedspink]

rotting fruit

-

they liked me better
when i didn’t understand.
when my thighs were still growing
and my mouth was too scared to say no.
when innocence clung to my skin
like something they had the right to ruin.

they called me mature for my age
with teeth in their smiles—
like they were doing me a favor
by looking.
by touching.
by naming me beautiful
before i knew what beauty cost.

i was a prize to unwrap
before i even bloomed,
a secret they could keep
so long as i kept quiet.

and i did.
i smiled.
i played the part.
felt wanted.
felt powerful.
felt sick.

and now—
now that i know better,
now that my body is mine,
now that i walk like i own it—
they look away.
they don’t want women who know.
they want girls
who don’t understand
what’s being stolen.

no one lingers now.
no one whistles.
no one tells me i’m worth the rot.

i am too old to be their fantasy,
too sharp,
too loud,
too aware.

but let them choke
on the silence they left behind.
let them ache
for the fruit they bruised,
for the girl they devoured
and left hollow.

she lives in me now.
and she remembers everything.

[fosterwhat]

I am so tired of the lying. Felix is almost 10 years old and sneaks and lies and steals. It breaks my heart AND pisses me off. He’s been with since he was two years old and knows it’s not okay. And yet he still does it. I get it is trauma. It still is impossible to parent.

Yesterday he was at practice without me (they don’t want parents to stay, and I have two other kids to deal with so I don’t particularly want to stay anyway). He was there from 4pm to 7pm. He didn’t go to the bathroom once, despite them taking bathroom breaks. He p**d his pants at some point and didn’t bother changing (he had spare clothing). He rode home in a friend’s car soaked in urine. I had to do extra laundry again when he got home and his booster is ruined.

Today I asked him to bring up a pile of his laundry I had already washed and folded. As in, carry one armful up one flight of stairs. He stomped and cried down the stairs because he didn’t want to. I went down because he was taking so long to come back up. He had poured dog food all over the carpet and there were cookie crumbs too. He immediately told me he’d done it because the dog had been eating cookies and he wanted to distract him. I looked straight at him and said, I know that’s not true. You took the cookies. You went to the cabinet, opened it, unscrewed the jar and took out 10 cookies. The dog doesn’t have hands. He insisted it was the dog. I repeated, it’s not the dog, but since you likely made the dog sick you can take him to the yard to go to the bathroom while I watch and then come back in and vacuum the rug.

I should add I do NOT deprive this child of cookies. He already ate 3 when he got home, he had a huge dinner of his favorite food (mac and cheese), with multiple servings. He was not hungry.

This is the kind of impulsivity we’re dealing with. I can’t leave him alone for a second. He needs to be line of sight. He is a 10 year old who scribbles on walls, cuts up blankets with scissors, binges food, and isn’t toilet trained. He’s still in diapers at night and wets during the day (doctors all say there is zero medical reason, it’s all behavioral). We do all the meds and all the therapy and there has been tremendous progress in most areas (no school suspensions this year!), but this is still so hard. I want him to be able to play in his room alone, to be more independent. But every single time I think we could be, this happens again.

It’s exhausting.

[rott3nguts]

ok to rb

[junipersxlies]

[empty-solaces]

i get so fucking numb and empty feeling when people talk aabout their childhood or stories they had as kids. even the really sad shit. i cant remember almost anything from before i was 12.

i have nothing.

i was nothing.

i am nothing.

[visionaryvisual]

[coltishcaterpillar]

Unmasked / Platonic!Alastor x Teen! Daughter Reader

Chapter II: Sneaking Suspicion

Summary:

After reading over thirty-one entries, three disturbing pages are brought to light….or the darkness, depending on how Emily wants to look at it.

WARNING: This entire chapter (and probably the next one) depicts a very disturbed, traumatized, paranoid child (who is you, the reader.), who has just lost the person she loved most in the world. A HUGE deterioration in her psyche is seen here.

Look out for: Murder, Mental Illness, Paranoia, Anxiety, Delusions, Cannibalism, etc….

November 12th, 1933

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, my dear diary. Please, Jesus, please help me find my way back, I’m…I’m shaking relentlessly and the monsters at night won’t leave me alone.

My Pa….he’s not come home in three weeks. I know he will never open that door again, but I wish he would just one last time.

It started with a simple hunting trip. I saw him bringing a large trash bag over his shoulder whilst he was going out, and I just assumed it held his gun and other necessities.

A few hours later, people heard gunshots go off in the area he hunted and now he’s…..

When they opened the bag they found another mangled body….and concluded that my Papa was the serial killer terrorizing New Orleans since 1922.

No, he couldn’t have done anything of the sort. He was a good man. PAPA was a good man. He was. He is.

I read it in the papers…nobody wants to see me anymore. I’ve tried contacting everyone I knew and loved, and they told me to never set foot on their property again, they thought I was involved in this hellish situation!

Anne, James, Elbert, Carol, Mr. Devereaux, Charlotte, Martin…..EVERYBODY has abandoned me!

I wanted to desperately contact Grandma, so I wrote her a series of letters. Her caretaker wrote me a letter back that she went into shock after finding out Pa died, and she’s….well, she’s in Heaven now too.

I just turned sixteen, please. I need my Papa back….my Grandma….

I’ve been in the house surviving off of scraps. I’m afraid to leave again; I don’t want to be shot, I don’t want people coming after me because of what my Papa allegedly did. I’ve lost so much weight, I’m tired, I feel sick….

I’m not ready to be a woman, to grow up, quite yet. I grew up taking things for granted; I thought I would have my family and friends for life. How will I find a job? Will anybody take me in? Can I find a new family?

I’m still here, I’m still here, my dear friend. My beautiful…I’ve not lost my mind, not yet. I’m not crazy, am I? No, no….I’m just….going through some traumatic moments!

I’m hungry….

My stomach is hurting so bad, I’m perspiring and my toes are curled…I need more food. I’ve eaten nearly everything, I have no money to purchase anything else…

Every time it growls, there’s a new tang of pain….

Papa, you would never….you’re a good man, Pa. I love you, I’ll always love you….

Oh, it all makes sense now! Why you never wanted me to see what you brought home, why you were always out late, why you were so secretive…oh, Pa, why didn’t you tell me?! I…I would’ve….contacted the authorities.

Which is what you didn’t want.

I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING DEMON! HOW DARE YOU BRING THIS UPON ME AND GRANDMA, I HOPE YOU ROT YOU SICK, TWISTED, SORRY EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN-

I miss your kisses and your hugs, Pa. Please….please come back. At least tell me where your grave is so I can hug your body one last time….I’ve never wanted to hear your voice more, whether it be in real life or the radios, please!

Oh my god, what are we having for dinner? I’m starving, Pa….

I have a headache, Pa….please give me some medicine to ease the pain…..

I need you, I need somebody. Anybody. Please….

I never want to see you again. If I ever see you again after this lifetime I will do everything in my power to slaughter you a second time for all the pain that you’ve caused….

I’m going to take a breather soon, my dear friend. I need to let off some steam. I’m….I just need to find an energy source. I’ll be back, I promise.

——————————————

November 13th, 1933

Oh, I’ve found something to eat, finally. It didn’t taste as terribly as I thought, and in fact, it tasted similar to how you cooked our meat, Pa. So tender….so, so, tender…..

The gangster didn’t even see it coming. I don’t think he liked me, he was looking at me like I did something wrong. I hushed him, hushed him well, and said,

“No, no, sir. Why are you giving me that look?? I’m only hungry! I’m just trying to survive! Please don’t let me starve!”

I hated that gaze. That look on his face made me feel like a monster, like I wasn’t justified in my action to cut him into tiny little pieces-

Pa, it’s just like you used to make. I never knew how…similar the meat tasted until now. Why did you do that? To so many innocent people….this man was not innocent, Pa. He was part of a cartel, I was doing this world a favour!

I feel better, I think. My stomach feels more satisfied than it has in days.

I don’t feel any better, though. I just…I just ate somebody….

I don’t know what to do! How is….how is his family going to react when they find this out?! I….I caused him pain, so much pain….

But I need more. I want to live….I have so much goodness to offer to the world, I promise I can be better! I’m not usually like this! I promise to make you proud! To make everybody proud…like I’ve always tried to do!

I know how much I was lacking in performance, I’ve never been cut out for the big leagues, but I am positive I can amount to something! If this world will give me a chance, I’ll be the best version of myself I can ever be. I can, I can! You always said I could do anything I put my mind to, I can do this. I can still be a happy girl and young woman, I can still grow up, I can make new friends. Perhaps I’ll move? Yes, maybe that’s a good idea…

I miss you. I miss Grandma, I miss our talks. The things you would do with me…how you used to sing to me when I was scared of the monsters under my bed, our weekly theatre nights; we’d always go to see Charlie Chaplin, that was your favourite; and it grew to be mine too.

I miss how close we were to each other. We were like….we were like two peas in a pod. We couldn’t be one without the other.

1917, was the year of my birth. How well do you remember picking me up that day? When I was alone, cold, nearly dead…in a dumpster? You saved me.

That’s why….I don’t want to believe you did those things, Papa. I don’t. I have a very strong sense of morality, you know that. I….I can’t fathom you ever being capable of something like that.

I…I don’t think I knew you, Papa. You…

You betrayed me.

Everybody was right, you know. The suspicions people had about you. Anne…she always talked about you with a certain look of fear in her eyes, and I always made the time to defend you to anybody who ever judged.

How was it, that the only person who never saw the signs, was me? The person who lived with you for sixteen years?

Maybe I just didn’t want to believe it.

And now look at what you’ve done. You’ve killed a part of me…you killed Grandma; your mother! I was supposed to meet her up for tea a few days after your death, but time had beaten me to it. What ever will I do, without your love?

I miss you, Pa. And I love you, so very much. But you better pray to the devil himself; that I do not die for another five decades. I won’t be able to hold myself back…from hurting you. And I’ll hurt you bad.

To be hated….to be attacked by somebody you protected, nurtured, loved with all your heart….yes, that’s the pain I want to inflict on you. Your daughter, the person you’d kill for, turning against you.

I love you, Pa, I really do. But….a serial killer will never be somebody I bode well with.

———————

January 10th, 1934

I am sorry. For everything. It’s very frigid out here due to winter, and I’ve been camping outside for quite a while…I can’t feel my legs anymore.

To….anybody I may have scared or hurt, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry.

[rawan-soso]

What is my sister’s fault? Why must this be her life? She doesn’t remember our house. She doesn’t remember her cat who was killed by the bombs. She doesn’t remember feeling warm during the winter. All the good things in her life came and went before her brain could form memories. From her point of view, life has always been this genocide. Gaza has always been destroyed. Home has always been one room with no windows and infested by rodents.

Please help me provide for her. She’s had a high fever for the past few days and the blockade is back. The bombs are starting to drop again. This is going to be so hard and I can’t do this alone.

We are so close to our final goal, please, anything can make a difference even if it’s just sharing!

PLEASE DONATE HERE

✅Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #347 )✅

[elektramentalhealth]

Why?

[skinny-swans]

[bleedspink]

sugarcoat

-

the walls hum in soft pink.
powdered sugar light
sticks to my skin
like something saccharine
trying to smother the rot.

plush carpet muffles my footsteps.
every corner is padded—
stuffed with velvet animals
whose glass eyes never blink.
they stare like they know.
like they remember.

the scent of artificial strawberries
hangs heavy in the air,
too sweet, too forced.
it clings to my clothes,
my hair,
my throat.
i choke on the nostalgia.

gold bangles clack against my wrists
when i cover my ears.
sometimes silence is worse
than the screaming was.
sometimes silence is just
another way to listen too hard.

i suck on hard candy
until it slices my tongue.
grin red.
pretend it's cherry.

under my bed—
a shoebox full of secrets.
crayon drawings,
a locket with a stranger’s face,
a dress i don’t remember wearing
but still can’t throw away.

the mirror reflects someone
smaller than she should be.
shoulders curved in like parentheses,
like she’s trying to fold
into the space of someone
who never made it past twelve.

i wrap myself in fleece,
layers and layers,
until the weight quiets the shaking.
call it comfort.
but it’s really armor
stitched in bows and pastel thread.

don’t touch the doorknob.
don’t raise your voice.
don’t ask.
just sit quietly
in the pink glow
and pretend
you’ve always been safe.

[chasingokay]

I absolutely cannot wait. ❤️

[bird-cherry13]

It's so disgusting, to be honest. I'm laughing, I'm trying to joke. But I'm running like a scalded dog from the fact that almost everything in my childhood is wrong. From the pressure, from the fact that no one stood up for me or could help. So much so that my name is no longer my name. So much so that I don't want to remember that my parents exist. So much so that it's difficult for me to keep in touch with my sister. It hurts.

But when I go to bed, I'm still here. Closing my eyes, I'm here. In our, children's, bedroom. Where the doors never closed. Where everything is in plain sight but everything important is unnoticed. Where everything gets twisted and turns against me. Where they can hold me in place and psychologically torture me without realizing that it is torture. Where you can go whenever and for whatever reason. I have no human rights. I'm just a doll. I should be a good daughter and nothing else.

I don't think I'll ever want to be a "good" one again.

Some people say you're just getting attention. The truth is that you stop hiding just because it's impossible to hide anymore. This is your daily pain. Fuck them if it seems like something ridiculous to someone. They weren't there to help you either.

[junipersxlies]

why did you have me? just to hurt me?