A Big Trigger Breakthrough
It is interesting that now, when I have a breakthrough or epiphany or even a breakdown, my first impulse is to do a live video to talk about it, so that I can share my journey, but also so I can feel less alone, less isolated and so that I can show others that it is okay to be yourself, and, if yourself happens to be like myself, messy as fuck, then you rock that shit. It is okay to show emotion, rage, scream, cry, punch a pillow, sleep, or shut down for a bit, all of these are normal ways to show your emotions, and people like us are suffering, often in silence. I am not. I am right here. Plain view. Showing much of what I am dealing with. It is okay, whatever way you deal with your trauma, you are valid. Alright, self-affirmations aside let’s dig into this trigger.
Come With Me
I wrote this as a way to express what I was feeling at the time. This is a work of fiction. I am sort of obsessed with my biological mother’s suicide, but to be clear this is not how it happened, this is simply a story to express myself. – Jess (Phoenix) As I stood, […]
Childhood Conditioning and Stockholm Syndrome
Recently I had a conversation via Facebook with one of my new friends that I have made through this project. Truly I had no idea how creating this Facebook Page, then my blog would affect my life. I have been “meeting” some amazing people and it is a wonderful way to connect and share and […]
The Doorway
“You come back here young lady!” rang the angry voice behind her as she ran out of the dusty old house. “Jessica Lynn!” screamed the shrill voice as she ran down the broken sidewalk to the sanctuary of the small jungle behind the ‘Dead End’ sign at the end of the street. Once inside she would be safe, alone. Her little feet made a pitter-patter sound as they ran, avoiding any cracks in the broken sidewalk. She might not like her mother, but to break her back would be the ultimate sin.
READER SUBMISSION POST !!Trigger Warning !!
C-PTSD Trauma Survivor From the age of 5, up to my 18th birthday, I don’t remember a day where my life wasn’t pure hell. I had abusive parents, an older brother who hated me, and encouraged our younger brother to hate me as well…and a grandfather who molested me.
Yeah. That’s why older brother hated me. He claimed I had lied about the whole thing. And so did many others.
A Letter To My Sperm Donor
NOTE: (5/17/24) I was given a DNA test several years ago and through that was found by my paternal biological sister. I now know who the sperm donor is, Anthony Chris Russon from upstate NY. Glens Falls area. He had a restaurant or something. Anyway, long story short (long version will be in the book.) […]
Bleeding Out Through Writing…
This is going to just be like most of my Facebook live videos, a rambling post that I am just going to let flow. There is no purpose to this other than to express myself. It will be interesting to see how it turns out. Read, don’t read, I just need to write.
I feel like I shit. I wrote about that a while ago, I am not okay. And it is okay not to be okay but it feels like shit and as the chemicals in my brain change due to the medications I am taking to help me deal with the symptoms of the C-PTSD or Developmental Trauma Disorder, I am struggling.
Today, I Am not Okay
Yesterday, I was not okay.
As far back as I can remember, I have never been okay.
I have been many things.
What are Gaslighters?
Gaslighting is a term to describe people who try to manipulate others by psychological methods. Essentially they use this to make the other person question their own reality, their own sanity and their own way of looking at things, especially themselves.
What does C-PTSD and PTSD healing really mean?
One year ago I reached a point where I could not handle my life anymore. My depression was so strong, for me, and I was falling apart. I would be wracked with emotional flashbacks. I would be hit at any moment without warning with pain, grief and loss. I would start to feel the rage that had plagued me when I was a child. There would be times when I would put up the emotional bubble, the shield that protected me from feeling when I was a kid.