In case you needed to see an evolution of my freakish face. You know you wanted to see it. What stage of mine is your favorite?
I am sad I didn't document my later elementary years where I kept wearing my black shirt with Elmo wearing saggy pants and a chain...I was cool.
Recent dms @_samny I was telling her she is gorgeous no matter what size you are bc honey bbw is life 💜💁🏼♀️ @__tayyy8 I was sending something mad funny to her my cousin 🤗 next person dm me but I didn’t respond bc Didn’t wanna and last one @dominic_doucas wanted me to join a live stream so go follow all these people I @ed lol #decchallenge#day13#imreallydoingthis#holycrap#onthewaytosucess#ihope
Oprah said "The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate."
These past several months, delving into my childhood, consistent triggers, and confronting my behaviours, and insecurities have been rough. The path towards healing means bringing all the gunk to the surface to be cleaned, after a lifetime of suppressing.
Being stuck in a trauma, means the mind/body go back to the age where the traumas occured. During in a trigger, which can last weeks, I turn into a selfish, crying, screaming child, desperate to be heard that I had been hurt. Then switch clicks. I self harm, with the intent to end (common for survivors). My recent episode didn't take me as far deep, but I harmed as much as I could, where I can do it silently as to not let anyone in my life know.
Sitting in the therapy groups, hearing stories that were abundantly worse, and horrifying childhoods, fills me with rage. How can human beings do those things to children? Mostly, to their own families.
After 15 weeks of exposing pain, questioning if I should report, hearing intense stories, sharing, and getting stuck back in old bad habit patterns; I am going to breathe.
Today, I am going to take a moment; even if it only lasts a moment, to really celebrate. I made it. I lived through it. I was repeatedly silenced, and I still have my voice. I will honor these few minutes, and those little girls I was when my trust and safety broke. I am going to celebrate my goal of WANTING to support other trauma survivors, even if I am incapable of doing so now.
I hope when she hugs you,
It will never seem as warm as when I did.
I hope your bodies never quite seem to go together,
That your guard never goes down,
And that you always see pieces of me in her.
I hope that when she smiles,
You think of the way my face crinkles.
I hope her laugh sounds too much like mine,
But she’s never as good to you as I was.
I hope you see me in folded pieces of paper
And spruce trees.
I hope that you can still remember the smell of my perfume.
I hope that she never understands your humor the way I did.
I hope that long car rides and constellations let you feel my touch.
I hope that when you say “I love you”,
It never comes off your tongue right
And always seems to taste bitter.
I hope that when you see this,
It makes you shudder,
Because you realize you miss me.