Picking up the shards

How do you cope and get over trauma and mental health issues? With time, effort, energy and difficult self mental reflection ultimately. Finding distractions to fill the empty hours. Forcing yourself to take care of yourself while dealing with the demons raging inisde until they finally quiet down into slumber. Hobbies and someone to listen to you really helps too. Its a process and it doesn't happen overnight, that's for sure. I've spent years suffering in a mental fog, struggling to live life through overwhelming feelings of pain, depression, and shame that formed layers of ice between me and the rest of the world. Locked up behind the walls I built, I wandered through the years dragging shame, gulit, and hatard behind me. These chains I have carried far too long, and never deserved to be handed to begin with. My past haunts me to this day and it reflects in every interaction with other people. I've always shyed away from the people I actually like for fear of being humilated, and I have struggled to trust and open up to the few friends I made in life. I still flinch away if someone moves too fast too close to me or gets angry around me. I still look at food I bought or someone hands me and have to remind myself I'm actually allowed to consume it. I still struggle to voice being hungry without expecting to be punched in the stomach or smacked in the face for asking for food. It took me years to realize and fully understand I didn't deserve any of the abuse inflicted on my mind and body during my childhood. My silence over my childhood was forced and carefully constucted by both my parents, not just Jeff. My mom was nearly compliant in my abuse, esp after I finally broke down and told her about it. Her refusal to believe and help me utterly shatterd my trust in her. It broke My trust in ever being protected from him, and later made me never feel safe in general. Mom should have let me dial the phone that long ago day instead of smashing the reciever in my face when I tried to call 911 for help. I wonder what she would have done if I had shown her that box hidden under the false bottom of the closet in thier bedroom, filled with VHS tapes and old pictures. Would that have changed things or would she have simply destoryed all the evidence in a fit of rage? The blame and shame for my abuse lays squarely at my parents feet. Its not mine, and never was. They where adults who knew better and choose to abuse thier kids horrifcally anyway. My siblings and I never had a chance. My biggest crime was simply being born into the family. I held the belief for years I was the only one Jeff victimized. I now know none of the three of us where spared from our father's torture, and we all 3 carry our own scars from him. Davids words over the phone proved that. My brother is finally ready to talk about his own hidden chapters in that family too. I don't look forward to that conversation. I should have known I wasn't the only one he was vicutmizing in that house. I gotta drop the chains that surround me. Its time to try and let my past go and foucs on healing, and living for real instead of just surviving every day.

Brewing Eruptions

I can't believe that a single sentence uttered six months ago, by a person who admitted they lied, is still fucking with my relationship and causing fights in my home. Brice was the first one to say don't trust Autumn, she had bad intentions, and to call her a liar, but he decieded to fully believe her and say "he felt vidicated" when she claimed I was fucking Walls. If I wanted to fuck someone else, I'd break up with Brice first. I can't lie well enough to cheat on a guy to begin with! I would just blurt out the truth immediatly anyway if something like that had ever happened with anyone. Brice is never going to let go of that shitty comment Autumn made about me and Walls. All he was doing was trying to be there and support me during one of the most painful and darkest times of my life after the accident while dealing with his own demons. He didn't deserve all the rumors and BS he got targeted with just for spending so much time with me. He didn't deserve to hear brice repeatedly accuse me of cheating with him either. Oddly enough, brice never yells at Walls about it, just me. I don't know why Jacob stuck around after I called him crying last June. I just enjoyed his company last summer and was gratful he cared enought to stick around for us even when things got bad. He helped me stay way calmer and more sane then I would have been if I'd been alone all that time. that fight last week was bad. Brice is right back to witholding hugs and affection again. I feel so isolated and I'm sick of being punished for something I didn't even do. I can't believe he called me Wallsie's slut that night. I came so freaking close to slapping Brice across the face for that comment alone. I'm tired of defending myself against baseless accusations every couple of weeks when he goes off his rocker with his paranoia. I thought we were finally past this issue. Its completely obvious that the guy doesn't trust me, why am i still with him? I couldn't even get him to leave when I told him to go. he just screams and throws a fit until I back down and it blows over a few hours later. I literally told him yes, i want him to leave and he just started screaming I wanted to get with Wallsie. I can't even send texts to anyone without him looking over my shoulder, and he constnatly steals my phone for hours at a time. I'm sick of him taking it constnatly and turning the location tracking on my phone behind my back. I'm sick of being accused of being overly portective of it and hiding something just for wanting to use my own phone. I just want my privacy and autonomy back. Ever since the accident I feel like I have very little of either.

Damaged

racing thoughts fill my head and I'm strugging to keep it together. Been so overwhelmed with stress and pressure. Its no wonder all my friends pulled away. Who wants to hang out with a depressed, angry person all the time who mutilates thier own body out of sheer self hatard and depression? just gotta Leave people alone kiddo. They don't want your negitive energy and pain anymore. I feel so worthless anyway. Not worth anyone's time, attention or concern. Why worry over a ghost? I just wanted to start enjoying life, make some new friends and live for once, not just surviving the bitter and lonely days. Now I'm sitting here with a broken back, constant never ending pain, zero emotional regulation, and no hope for the future. I'm utterly drowning in dispair and fear. Whats the point anymore? I ruined my life with that accident. I don't even know how to pick up the pieces anymore. So exhausted of constantly failing and dealing with set backs.

Struggling

intrusive thoughts are winning my head is spinning. this inner pain keeps growing the ruby river is flowing.

SSDD

I failed at sleep tonight. I just cant force myself to relax no matter how much I want to. Just making the attempt to lay down and my heart started racing, that familar sick sensation settled into my stomach and all I wanted to do is curl up on my side and cry until the pain roaring inside my head fades back to backround noise. I desperately need a long hug, and to talk to someone willing to listen to my hell. but who would want to put up with me in the middle of the night when all I can do anymore is fall apart and cry? i havent been this low in a long time. I wake up every morning already exhuasted no matter how much I sleep in or how early i attempt to lay down the night before. no amount of sleep will fix this soul crushing depression. Every day I fight off a passive death wish that steadily grows louder and more aggressive. I just dont have the energy to fight anymore. i want to give up so badly right now, but i cant do that to myself. sometimes its easier to just sit quietly and let yourself feel all the pain and dispair then to reach out and try to talk to someone about it. when it gets too bad I used to go for a drive to settle the demons in my head, but that options not really available anymore. I miss my bike. I miss the freedom I had when I was on it. Nothing but the sound of the engine in the air and the dark road before me and only the gas gauage and my bank balance to tell me how far I could travel. I miss being able to just jump up and go whenever I wanted, and go see whoever I wanted. I miss feeling welcome to just drop by at any random hour. its easier to talk to people in person, but its so hard to open up about anything anymore. I feel utterly worthless. the fear always whispers in the back of my mind that no one really likes me anyway. they just tolerate me. Why would anyone care about some random craxy bitch they found crying in a bar anyway? But Its just another bad day. one more sunrise to try make it to. SSDD is strong today. Save your soul, Depression's deadly

Tortured memories, and painful musings.

I feel like an echo of a ghost who has haunted this realm too long. How many years does one sit with this pain and depression before they finally give up? So many long nights suffered through. Still so many more to go My therpist tells me I should reach out and talk to my friends about my trauama, says it would be good for my mental health to have a support system. A support system for me? I have always been the system for everyone else. some folks come to me with thier problems and pain, and I try to be there for them as much as I can. Shove your ledge against mine and we both can have a stable plateform to stand on together. Thats my motto when I encounter another depressed soul struggling with thier demons too. I help friends and strangers because I know what it feels like to be on that ledge contemplating suicide, staring into the void as it screams your name, promising a peace that never comes because you know better then to take that plunge into the abyess. My earliest memories are of being raped by my father, of being forced to give him BJs on command if I wanted to eat food, and being drugged and touched inapproperatly all through my childhood. I grew up in a home where saying no to sexual contact was not allowed. I was starved if I resisted, didn't preform to his satification or tried to resist in anyway. Most days I'd rather starve with my dignity then give him what he wanted, esp after mom left him. So many nights I was forced to cook dinner, but never allowed to join the family and eat. I was sent to my room instead. April would sneak me some when she could, and on many days I'd steal change from his dresser and walk to the store just to buy something to eat. It got so bad he even counted the bread daily so I couldn't even sneak toast at 2 am anymore. He had a VHS camera from the early 90s onward that he set up on a tripod in the bedroom, always pointed to the bed. He always lied and reassured me it was off, but I knew what the blinking red light on it meant. He recoreded literally hundreds of tapes by the time I was a teen. I was raped over 1000 times before I hit 10 years old by him. I grew to have nigtmares about what he did, and I hated the camera with its blinking red light. Despite loving photography as a kid, I hated being recorded and photographed by him, then at all. I sometimes wonder if he still has the evidence of the abuse he inflicted upon me and my sister in those tapes, and how many other little girls he recorded himself with over the years. My silence bought him access to who knows how many other victums over the years. that thought haunts me as an adult. The abuse got so much worse after I tried to confide in my mother and got the beating of a lifetime from her in response. She treated me like a full grown adult who was bragging about stealing her husand instead of a scared, tramatised child begging for help. I was only 8, and after she finished using me as a punching bag, she called his work and threatend Jeff with a firing squad. I honestly believed back then that mom would force me to join him in that punishment. He came home and of course denied everything. Called me disturbed and claimed I was making up viscious stories. Those lies hurt evey bit as much as the beating I endured. To this day I wish I'd just played a video tape for mom, or just taken a backpack full of them to the cop that lived by the school with the K9 unit. She took me and left that night after their fight. I felt such a sense of relief while we where driving down that highway. My mom was my hero, and I remember feeling hopeful the abuse would finaly end. We got all the way to the sign that reads Portage 72 miles before she suddenly pulled over, looked at me for a long moment, and turned the car around. The moment she pulled that U turn and started driving back, something deep within me completely shattered as I realized there would be no escaping this hellscape. I lost all hope as I starred outisde the window that night. I wish she had called the police instead of choosing silence, then six years of abandonment. Six long years of sexual slavery that could have been prevented with one single fucking phone call. that night had a profound effect on the rest of my childhood. I never managed to find the courage to try to tell on him again until I turned 22 and moved out on my own. I expected to be beaten again for it, or worse if anyone found out afterwards. She left when I was 9, nearly a year after that brutal night. I remember crying and begging her to take us with her, but mom refused and left us there. Honestly, I expected her to at least take April, her favorite. I broke down sobbing as I watched her drive away. I was holding my cabbage patch doll in my room trying to console myself later when he walked in and told me that with mom gone, I had to take over for the house and children now. He said that I was going to be his wife from now on. TO his 9 year old daughter. I remmeber wondering what in the hell being a wife even meant, but I found out his defination all too soon. I wasn't a wife back then. I wasn't even his duaghter in his mind. I was just a slave in his mind. I just didn't know it back then. It makes me sick to think about it. Things changed drastically from that day on, and my punishments became more brutal and often. The childcare, cleaning the house, and cooking meals where on me 100% of the time. He literally meant I was his wife in every sense of the word, including sexually. I didn't go outside much after that. Sometimes he'd come home and hit me just because he had a bad day from work. The food I cooked I wasn't allowed to eat more often then not. I was always hungry, always exhausted and weak. He'd give me no food, then give me those dreaded screw drivers to drug me. I would watch him mix some kind of pills into the drinks he'd give me. I hated drinking them and the funny feeling I got after. I grew to hate him, myself, and life in general that year. I think that's when the PTSD, depression and suicidal idealation started to form in my mind, althrough it would be years before I had a name for it. I just knew I was depressed and wanted the abuse of my body and the pain, and life in general to end. After mom left, there was no one there for him to hide it from anymore, and he got so much worse. The rate of being raped, beaten and starved tripled. He'd give the siblings money to go out to the pool, the movies, or just to the park, and I'd be locked up in his room with that dreaded camera and his sexual demands. If I refused or managed to fend him off, he'd wake me up in my bed and rape me there. Other nights he'd carry me to his bed and force me to stay there until he fell asleep and I could finally sneak away from him and go puke and cry in the bathroom before going back to my own room. I barely sleep through the night the entire time I lived with him. I hated being treated like a wife and woken up in the middle of the night for sex. That may be why I don't want to get married to this day. He really fucked up my views on marriage and relationships in general for a really long time. To this day the thought of marriage terrifies me and reminds me of serving a prison sentence. And watching so many other family members and friends marrriages fail over the years has done nothing to fix it. I'm so utterly and completely exhasuted. Old memories are tormenting me bad tonight. Just once, I want to know peace that lasts longer then the duration of a hug from friends. I desperately need a long cuddle tonight.

Falling apart on the inside

I feel so hopeless nowadays. I don't look foward to anything anymore. I don't even want to live through this year. I just want to wake up in 2027 with a healed back and face. Do fractures ever really heal, or am I just going to forever feel this constant pain and pressure on my spine and this new uncomfortable burning senation on my face? I'm so over it all. Over life in genreal. I can barely force myself to go through the motions anymore. I can't focus on any of my crafts and projects or hobbies. Gaming feels hollow, and talking to the therpist just feels so pointless. Nothing I do feels like it matters anymore. I don't matter. Why does anyone even care about me? I'm just an echo of who i used to be. I'm drowning under an icy sea of dispair and despression. I lost my hope in my own future, and wake up every single day and try anyway. I can't talk to my frineds about it. They have thier own problems. Im just a burden, and I don't feel like I'm worth the effort to even save anymore. I feel so worthless and I wonder why any of my friends even care about me at all. Why they think I even matter when I can't see any worth in my life. I feel like an utter waste of space who'd be better off dead. A mistake that never should have been born. Even as I think that I know its maladaptive and untrue but I can't stop the intrusive thoughts from forming in the back of my mind. Every single day I wake up and tears fill my eyes that I have to fight off over and over. Intrusive throughts are winning tonight as my demons scream thier pain into the void. Is this life even worth living anymore? Why the fuck didn't that accident just kill me? Life is getting so hard and I just see no end to the eternal suffering. what the hell happened to me on the inside this time? I'm just a lone wolf ghost haunting the world, filtering in and out of peoples lives here and there. I don't belong anywhere. I never did. I feel more tolerated then wanted anymore. I handled it so much better before it become this crippling depression. Now I don't feel like I'm handling it at all. I'm broken inside and out and there's no fxing this pain and constant pressure. I desperately need a long hug from someone who will just hold me and let me feel safe for a few minutes. Its humilating that I even feel like this, but I just want to stop suffering. I am not having a good time at all over here. I'm struggling so hard to summon the strenght and courage to keep pushing through day after day when all I want is to just give up entirely.