u/NotallwoundsareSeen

Hello everyone.

Over the last few months myself and a few others have been working on building a discord server for people with ptsd/cptsd.

This space is a work in progress, it's purpose is to provide a more real time peer support platform for people. Understand this isn't a crisis intervention platform. We have areas for different kinds of support, hobbies. A Neurodivergence town for our family with different forms of Nerospicy, a resource Bot that can help with finding resources (Yes there is a small resource section) and much more.

I have been given mod permission to post the link here and would like to invite anyone who is interested to come join us.

A few things, you must read and follow the rules and have two factor authentication on your discord account in order to be able to join. You'll need to be 18+ and have 2fa (two factor authentication)

I wanna personally thank the mods of the CPTSD next steps subreddit for their willingness to allow me to help people find a place.

Much love and lots of respect.

https://discord.gg/cbqrBYFgT

(For the people who have had issues with the verification process, We've been made aware of the issue. Once I am aware of a fix, I will leave a message here to inform everyone.

She was an amazing person, they kind that would sit with you till 3am. She loved her animals and plants.

The server, my life, and this world have taken a major loss.

I'm sorry for the childhood you had, the abuse from the POS you did. I tried to be a safe person, and I hope you felt that.

Much love, sis. I hope to see you again someday.

This happened to me recently with someone, and I gotta ask.... am I odd for thinking this?

So I have this friend who has borderline traits, and over the last few days, they crossed a boundary of mine in buying an item seen as a luxury while still owning me money. I have tried to explain this to them in the best way I can and have been clear in my faults in the handling of a situation between us, yet made clear that I wouldn't be lending them money while they continue to not remain sober.

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I've offered all forms of other support, will still be there, and don't hate them as I don't see this as being intentional malice. Having said that, I stuggle with thinking she won't change nor cares, and I'm not sure what are some signs I need to be on the lookout for over the next few days? This all happened in the last 48 hours for context.

This friend has been drinking to cope and has an issue with alcohol and being in toxic relationships. Since we've met, I've helped her by being there to listen and help her with finances ($315), to which she's paid back $100 so far, but her drinking has gotten worse and she's bought booze before paying me on full which is a huge issue for me.

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So, what is the best way for me to approach her without hurting her?

If you or someone who you know happened to be on the 85 bayshore within the last hour or so, I found yours/ their phone and turned it into the bus driver.

Hope you somehow see this and are able to grab it from their lost and found.

We've gotta go back 20 years, so if you're willing, take a trip with me.( The names have been changed, and not all details are given)

I was 16, and my memories from the days leading up to that day aren't the best. I remember the moment Da told me his mother had died, the only

emotion he showed was anger, having kicked a plastic chair we had in the backyard. A few days after this, we'd be loaded into vehicles and

driven up to Kazabazua. A small village in the middle of nowhere, Quebec. Filled with overly religious and righteous hicks and their

incestuous ways.

It began in the early morning, The sun itself hadn't even arisen. I remember the sound of people snoring. I hadn't slept longer than a few

hours due to the noise all night. I was woken by my cousin Jason, I got up and went into the room they were saying to try and tell them I didn't wanna go. Yet I couldn't even say the words. There was Ja, Mi, To, Le, Ch, and me. Well,those are who I remember, we didn't change or shower, Simply got woken up and piled into one of those hick trucks

the kind with the cut open cab and shitty wooden backend. Each of us was given a shovel to do our duty and bury the witch in the dirt.

There's nothing more peaceful than the place meant for the dead. The moment we arrived, I remember hearing my aunt's voice from days before.

"I'm not wasting $100. The men can go dig it." That line still sticks with me because a 16 year old isn't a man. I was a child stripped of

their childhood long before that. Yet to my toxic family, I was expected to do the darkest of things. They didn't wanna pitch in $100 between 7-8 Adults to bring in a backhoe so it could dig the grave in 1 hour. Instead, they'd use the money to spend on drugs and drinks the night before we'd bury the witch. Understand she was an evil woman. Once told me I wasn't her grandson because I wasn't baptised in her church and wasn't raised in KAZ. Yet I spent most of my childhood summers there. Knew that town and its forest like the back of my hand

and still do mind you. Some of it's changed from what I saw on maps. She, though, wasn't a real grandmother. No love was within her, and

she's the reason for so much pain to have been passed down.

I remember standing there with my shovel in hand, Leroy looked over and gave us the layout of where she would lay. Phucker cracked a joke

about not digging too close to Great Grandma as you didn't wanna me her crusty boney butt. From the stories, she was also an evil person in

life. For the next few minutes, we'd start digging. After about 30, we'd reached about 2 feet deep, which at that point was half my height. By

the end of it all the 6 ft. I still remember being in the hole while it was above my head. I remember trying to jump out, and not one of the people standing on that side offered to help. It wasn't until my cousin Mi came over and grabbed me from my shirt that I finally got out. To this day, I can not go into cemeteries, When I am close to death, I will walk out into the woods and let Mother Nature do with me what she will. But during all of the digging, I remember my aunt Barb (mothers sister) bringing me a piece of banana bread with hot tea. The only meal I'd eat for the next few days. At the end of the digging, we stood in a horseshoe style pattern. In the moment, everyone went quiet. The sun came shining through and hit us all. My shitty aunt would say, "That's her way of saying thanks." Like no WITCH, it was because the clouds moved ffs.

The drive home I slept would be months of dealing with visual hallucinations, hearing voices, and being forced into the hospital because I didn't wanna continue living with nightmares of being in the

grave. It's funny now, though, because I don't fear death. But I fear being placed in a grave.

I don't know if this type of post is allowed, but it happened at Britannia Beach.

To the person in the pink dress, thank you for the beautiful music you played on your ukulele. I hope somehow you read this or someone you know and feel appreciation for the gift you gave people today.

Thank you.