r/trauma

Galera todos sabem da minha situação, então eu imploro, se cada pessoa por ajuda com 1 real ou qualquer valor pelo menos para pode ajudar minha familia, eu já tô quase desistindo mesmo, tô cheio de dores, quem tiver amor no coração, da uma lida no meu perfil, conheça minha história, sou uma pessoa trabalhadora, verifiquem os comentários irei deixar lá minha chave, Deus abençoe a todos, até quem não acredita.

No se cómo comenzar esto, pero el caso es que tengo 21 años y, por accidente, vi un video en el que un adulto mantenía relaciones con una menor de 14 años. Estaba en un grupo de Telegram donde normalmente se compartía contenido pornográfico amateur, nada fuera de lo común. En un momento, alguien subió un video sin dar contexto. No leí los mensajes que lo acompañaban porque me dio pereza, y pasé directamente a otra parte del video. No vi el video completo, pero después decidí revisar los chats iniciales y ahí descubrí que un hombre de 30 años estaba escribiéndole a una menor de 14 años. aclaro que el video lo vi cuando tenia 20 y que ya pasaron meses desde que lo vi y denuncie.

En lo poco que alcancé a ver del video, la menor no mostraba la cara, usaba tapabocas y la cámara solo enfocaba su cuerpo. En ese momento, pensé que tenía una edad parecida a la mía, lo que me excitó y me frote un poco, aunque nunca llegué a masturbarme ya que el video no me gustaba pero lo poco que vi me obligue a que me gustara ya que me sentia como un marica si hacia que no me gustara. En cuanto me di cuenta de la situación, inmediatamente denuncié el video y el grupo a Telegram, y luego hice una denuncia ante las autoridades de su país. En la página Erome vi la foto de lo que parece ser una menor desnuda, pero no sé si es real. Tiene 10 mil visualizaciones y sigue activa. La denuncié, pero me parece raro que nadie lo haya hecho antes pense que por memes que vi en X era una pagina segura pero creo que no

Aunque el contenido no era originario de mi país, quise asegurarme de que se tomaran medidas.

Siento que denunciar no sirve de nada, porque igual el trauma queda. Extraño mucho cómo me sentía antes de haber visto esto.

Desde ese día siento que algo murió dentro de mí. Me cuesta comer, dormir y constantemente vienen imágenes a mi cabeza de lo que vi. Estoy tranquilo al saber que jamás he tenido el más mínimo impulso de tocar o hablar con una mujer menor que yo, y toda mi vida he sentido asco, repulsión y rechazo hacia quienes participan en este tipo de actos.

Tampoco soy una persona adicta a la pornografía, ya que la veía por aburrimiento y soledad. Llevo probablemente 2 años sin masturbarme y no tengo fetiches extraños. No soy una persona morbosa ni que irrespete a las mujeres; simplemente me siento excesivamente estúpido y distraído. siento que el posible hecho de que me haya pasado dos veces me hace todavia mas estupido lo que me jode es tener esas imagenes que nos e van y me asustan

Me traumatisa mucho la forma en la que él le escribía y la manipulaba, y ella le decía que no tenía amigos. Eso me afecta profundamente porque a esa edad yo era muy parecido a ella, y recientemente, por una enfermedad que tengo, he vuelto a vivir una situación similar incluso de aislamiento extremo donde no hablo con nadie que no sean mi papa y mi mama solo diganme que hacer o como deberia sentirme

Nunca he tenido pareja, ya que mi enfermedad comenzó a los 17 años y no sé cómo relacionarme con las mujeres. Cada vez que veo a una mujer, sin importar su edad, me vienen recuerdos de lo que vi. Siento que no contarles sería mentirles, pero me da miedo cómo esto afecte mis futuras relaciones.

I know this might sound strange or overly personal, but I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and don’t really know where else to ask.

I was 13 when the 9/11 attacks happened, and like a lot of kids at the time, I asked my mom why it happened. The explanation I got was the typical “they hate us for our freedom” idea, and also comments that people over there saw Western women in a very negative way.

At that age, I didn’t really understand the political or cultural context, but I did internalize it in a very personal way. I ended up forming this idea that if I behaved a certain way or was “acceptable,” I would be safer or less likely to be harmed.

Looking back now, I realize that this wasn’t a logical conclusion—it feels more like a fear-based interpretation I developed as a kid trying to make sense of something terrifying.

I’ve recently started wondering if anyone else who was around that age during 9/11 developed similar long-term psychological “rules” or beliefs that they only recognized much later.

I’m not looking for political debate—just wondering if others had strange or lasting mental effects from processing that event as children.

My mom is abusive. Toxic, mean, spiteful, and isolates me severely. She gaslights me and she makes me feel awful every single time I talk to her. She doesn’t talk to me like I’m her kid, she talks to me with venom in her voice and fury in her eyes. She’s manipulative and two faced and puts me down. She tells everyone how worried she is for me, calls me crazy. She is a horrible fucking human, and shes made me miserable all of my life. Shes nice but only as long as I don’t say or do anything she doesnt like, then if something is wrong, she immediately is back to that same asshole she always is. I don’t understand how a person can genuinely just be so incredibly awful. She controls everything. She has control over literally everything in my life. Every single thing. Im not being dramatic, either. And I can’t leave the house without her interrogating me, she sends my brother to babysit me and spy on me so she doesn’t have to keep tabs. She needs to know everyone I hang out with, names, photos, etc. If I don’t tell her, she’ll sabotage it. I dont drive yet. She won’t teach me to drive and she won’t help me get my permit. Im gonna have to have my brother take me to take a test for a permit at some point. My brother takes me everywhere. Im almost 19, too. But I have no independence at all. I haven’t seen anyone my age in over a year. And last time I did, she was there, or my brother was there. And that was only a few times, with one friend, and anything before that has been about 2-3 years. I rarely leave the house. Like, maybe once every few weeks, for no more than an hour, with my brother. She doesn’t drive. And I could find workarounds, and I do that as much as I can, but as long as I’m living here, I will always have to come back to face her consequences. So until I move, everything I do faces some kind of backlash. I don’t have a job, I don’t know how to work, she never prepared me in any way. She discourages me when I mention working. I don’t have anyone to drive me to work necessarily, and she would just have a fit once I’m back home, and she would interfere with me getting to work by stirring something up in one way or another, which would make me inconsistent getting to work, and therefore an unreliable employee. Nothing is in walking distance, and walking hurts my back so badly, because I apparently have scoliosis which she never told me until recently. And again, yeah I can do what I want generally speaking, if I’m determined enough, but I’d still have to deal with her when I come back. It’s not freeing, nothing is ever freeing, because it’s just gonna get me retaliated against. Even when I try to do anything, she just makes my life even more miserable.

She’s manipulative and angry. She’s fucking evil. She even grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me and shoved me one time and screamed at me and wouldn’t leave my room for like an hour straight, when I told her I was hurt by how she treats me. After she did that, I sat sobbing on my floor, and suddenly she was all calm and was like “Im still the same mama”, and finally left. Then when I told my therapist about that (who she never used to let me see alone. She came to all my sessions and changed every possible narrative, and managed every email and all the scheduling), she told the therapist I was acting crazy, lashing out, and that she was “shaking sense into me”. She said she “didn’t regret it, she’d do it again”.

When I say she controls everything, I mean everything. Finances, social life, she follows my social media, literally everything. I tried to block her on instagram. She noticed and she guilt tripped me and made me feel like I had to let her follow me, or else, basically. Basically any time I try to do anything to stop myself from being abused, she starts telling me I can’t live on my own, telling me how she has control over my bills and my bank and everything to my name, and sabotages my every effort. I tried to stay with her best friend, and I successfully did for a while, but my mom retaliated and talked to her friend behind my back. Her friend still let me stay. She was the only one who ever even got close to understanding me. She eventually finally asked me if everything was okay at home, if anyone was abusing me, and if I needed to come live with her. And guess what happened, weeks later? She unexpectedly died from her health issues. Me and my brother were the last ones to see her, with my brother being the very last. My only support system. She was just about to be able to understand, and just like that, she was gone. You don’t know how much I miss her. Even if she didn’t offer that, even if she never asked about being abused. I miss staying over there. I miss talking to her. She was actually enjoyable to talk to. I loved learning about her and being with her. It was safer and calmer and nicer there. I miss her. So much. She was an amazing person. It’s like the universe just doesn’t want me to make it out alive, I swear to god.

And she makes sure to make people think shes a good mom. She’s so nice around other people. She hears everything I do at home, she’s always home and our rooms are across from each other. Which means I never make calls to people, or else she questions me about it and manipulates me to get me to tell her who it is, so I can’t even keep a social life as much digitally, at least not without feeling like I have to be careful about it. She has to know all of my doctors, she questioned me when I tried to book my own appointment last week, she manipulated me and tried to get me to tell her who I was seeing and why, and of course used her insurance against me as a reason to tell her. She said she has to know what the appt was for, to know if her insurance covers it. Again, a fucking liar. And she of course threatened to just not pay the copay, which was $25. I doubt that she couldn’t figure that out. She definitely has $25 to spare. She claimed that she can’t afford multiple appointments in one week. If she really can’t afford that, she should change her priorities. Opt out of buying something else, so you can afford it, then. You can.

She has to know where I am at all times, even in the house.

She doesn’t meet enough of my needs and she makes me feel like it’s my fault for being extra. Oh you want a different brand of body wash? No, we get this brand. Stop asking for extra brands. Oh you want face wash? Pay with your own chore money, which you also have to spend on other self care things, and you don’t have enough to get everything you need, which means you won’t even actually be able to buy the face wash. Oh you want a razor? Well why do you need a razor, huh? Don’t you struggle with self harm? Gotta keep you safe, right? Because clearly, that’s ever actually worked. Clearly she’s ever once actually successfully kept me safe a day in her life.

She never consoles me. Never reassures me. Sabotages me, deflects, blames, fails to protect me from things, like getting harassed at my bus stop recently and then she laughed at me, joked, gossiped to someone else, and didnt care when I said it was harassment. When I was sa’d (Coercion, Child on Child SA), when I was 14/15, IN HER HOUSE, she defended them and guilt tripped me. Explained that we were both minors, and didn’t even flinch when I said our relationship was abusive. Didnt even acknowledge it. Never once said anything to help me. Didn’t hug me or tell me anything reassuring, didn’t say she believed me. I don’t think she ever really even believed me. She just looked pissed off at me and amused. Like she was patronizing me for calling it assault.

Whenever I open up about something, she always makes this dumb fucking face, like a weird half smile, like the kind that you do when someone is telling you a joke, and you’re waiting for the punch line. That face, yknow? Like, “Okay,,, so what’s your point exactly? You’re joking right,,, are you actually being serious right now?”.

You know whats also funny? I peed blood after the SA happened, I was emotionally confused and also physically in pain. But I didn’t know what was happening, so I just carried on. And of course, she didn’t think to ask if I was okay, right? How would she have known if she didn’t ask? And how would I know to tell her? She then, gossiped about all of the details of that abusive relationship, the details of the SA, including what the person said and she gave explicit details about everything I ever said to her about the guy. She gossiped about it to her new shitty fucking husband. She told him my deepest fucking secret, and did it for entertainment. I don’t even make small talk with this guy, or look him in the fucking eyes. But yeah no, tell him about my trauma, because I definitely would’ve been cool with that. When I overheard her talking about it, she ignored my text telling her to stop, told her husband what the text said, and closed her door to continue talking.

Maybe she should’ve taught me about consent instead of never ever talking to me about sex. Maybe I wouldn’t be such a people pleaser, maybe I wouldn’t have been scared to say no, if she didn’t always tell me that I’m “not allowed to say no” to her. That’s literally exactly why you educate your kids, to make sure they know they can say no. That’s why you don’t pretend it doesn’t exist. Refusing to teach me didnt ever stop me from discovering sex, it just means I never learned how to do it safely. You set me up for failure. You failed me. And guess who ended up not knowing they were assaulted? Me. She still hasn’t ever given me sex education, by the way. Im fucking 19. She still makes it a point to not talk about it. She even skips sex scenes in shows. If sex ever does come up, she raves about how bad of an idea it is, and how she doesn’t understand why people do it, and she always used to put a huge emphasis on minors not having sex, when I was still a minor. She keeps it from me in hopes that I won’t ever develop autonomy. She has literally never mentioned or acknowledged the concept, never even said the word, never taught me about body parts and she prides herself on the fact that she “Kept penises from me and made sure I never saw one”. So fucking strange. She’s controlled my entire world for 19 years and counting.

And, I had PTSD episodes every day for over a year, from that relationship, by the way. All she ever did was get annoyed, roll her eyes, and tell me “I don’t feel like hearing you talk about your attachment to him all day every day”, she sided with him every time I opened up. She looked away when I would sob, she would ignore me and scroll on her phone, just silently brooding, while I sat there having flashbacks, sobbing, shaking, and hyperventilating for hours and hours. Every night. For months. She sat and ignored me.

She kept important medical details from me until recently, about having scoliosis, when it’s been causing problems all my life and I just never knew it had a reason, despite me complaining to her. She listened to me talk about how badly it hurt when I would do horseback riding, and she was so defensive and frantically insisted that, “It’s just what happens when people have a big chest”. She listened to me talk about how I felt like I wasn’t a good rider, she watched me quit the sport I loved because I had too much back pain. Never said a word about my scoliosis. She told me she “Didnt want to tell me because it doesn’t affect” me, and she “Didnt keep it a secret, she just didn’t want to tell me and add it to my plate”. I was also having trouble walking because I’m always in horrible pain, so I finally gave up and asked for a wheelchair or a rollator. She said “No. I want you to walk”, and “No, you need to just move your body. You have to find a way, people have pain sometimes. It happens. You have to just keep walking”. As if she doesn’t have a fucking rollator her fucking self, for literal back pain. She got me a prescription for weed and watched me smoke for a few months, but I recently discovered that since I was born 2 months early, I’m really really not supposed to smoke. It’s a very dangerous, critical risk, and it’s very advised to avoid any kind of smoking because of lung development and higher risks of complications, regardless of my current health status. But of course I never knew that, because she’s always said, “You were born premature, but you were born fully developed and perfectly healthy”. That’s always been the exact quote from her. You can’t be born 2 months early and be fully developed. Literally just a fucking liar. Those things cant coexist, she just doesn’t want to think something was wrong with her baby, so she made up a narrative that isnt even logical. I literally stayed in the NICU because I needed additional help to physically function. But nope, perfectly normal labor. So I never thought to question how it could affect me.

She gets revenge and uses my vulnerability against me. Every time I open up. And then she guilt trips me when I stop talking to her. She lies to me to get me to tell her what she wants. She humiliates me in front of people, she makes fun of me in private too. She’s mean, she insults me, she uses my insecurities against me, she insults and comments on my appearance, she is a cruel human.

She is a fucking human torture device, and I can’t express how calculated and precise she is. She goes out of her way to make me feel bad. She’s sinister and every single thing she does has horrible intentions, she literally has never once done anything for an actually good reason. And she does the bare minimum and acts like that’s more than sufficient, and it isn’t. It’s just not. It’s not enough, and she doesn’t even fully take care of me, she just does enough to keep me physically alive.

She makes me get up and grab stuff for her constantly because she has a disability and only stays on her bed or goes to her bathroom. Thats it. She goes downstairs maybe like, once every 2 weeks. Leaves the house maybe once every 2 months. But if I complain about my struggles and I complain about not being able to do something for her, shes angry and says Im not respecting her disability. Says I need to “Get up and do it for her, right now, without complaining”, and “What do you mean no??”, and “You need to find accommodations so you can do things anyways”, and “No, I’m not gonna ‘hold on’, get off your phone and go do it”.

She uses “because Im your mom” as a punishment 24/7, for everything, and she says it with so much passion and fury, that it becomes clear that it’s more than just guilt tripping- she genuinely thinks I owe her the world because she’s my mom. Like, do you even want to be a fucking mom? Do you want to be my mom? Are you resentful towards me because you’re my mom? You know you are. I know she is. She resents me because she’s my mother, and she’s spent all of her time punishing me for it. She’s so mad at me about it, and it just isn’t my fucking fault. And even if she didn’t want to have me, which maybe she didn’t, because I know she didn’t even know she was pregnant with me. So I don’t know, lately Ive been wondering if something went on, like maybe my abusive dad (not her new husband) had something to do with it, I don’t know. I know she thought she couldn’t get pregnant and was surprised when she was. So. Idk. Also, she definitely has a type, she went from one abusive husband to another. Got to watch my mom get violently abused by my dad, and now emotionally abused by her shitlord husband.

She thinks that parenting isn’t worth it, if I’m not gonna do what she wants. It’s not about love or affection, it’s about it being a trade off. If I’m not what she wants me to be, then she feels betrayed because she “bends over backwards to keep me happy”. You’re supposed to want to keep me happy. Either way. You’re not supposed to waver. Whether I’m mean or awful or unappreciative, you’re not supposed to feel tortured by my happiness. You’re supposed to want to do it anyways, not for the benefits. You’re meant to want to take care of me. But you don’t. If you did, you wouldnt constantly need to be repaid for it. It’s not a mutual aid thing.

The second I do something she doesn’t like, it’s screaming, and insults, and “You’re lucky I don’t beat the shit out of you right now. Most parents would beat the shit out of you and kick you out immediately”. Like, wow, good thing I’m not dealing with those guys, right? Glad I got lucky, glad I have one of the good ones. All of which happened when I had the audacity to pierce my face when I was in middle school.

If I tell her she treats me worse than anyone else does, she tells me how much other people “Dont have to deal with me”, and that she gets to treat me that way because nobody else knows how I really am. She says “You respect everyone else but me”, when the reason I don’t respect her is because she’s a fucking abuser. I’m nice to everyone else because they dont deliberately torture me.

I was homeschooled since 5th grade. So no peers. No outside life. Just my house. Rarely was allowed to go anywhere. Just whatever she wanted me to see and know, just who she wants me to hang out with (which was nobody),no more no less. Just in the house all the time, no friends, except my one best friend who moved the same year I got homeschooled. It’s genuinely like a cult in this house. Nobody comes in, nobody gets out, and everything is controlled. Everything I do is monitored and influenced and tainted, and there’s no outside world interaction, and if there is, it’s supervised and interrogated. And I want to have a partner so bad. But it’s humiliating to have to involve them in my life, and it’s not worth the careful planning and coordination, and I’m so incredibly inferior and underdeveloped. Zero freedom, and whoever I date would have to navigate my cultish household with me. I refuse, and it wouldn’t even be enjoyable if I constantly have to deal with my household. I would love to date someone, but logistically it isn’t realistic, even if someone’s great. I’m too drained and unsure/ashamed of myself to actually be anyones partner anyways. Dating at 18 is different than dating as a teen. My peers are adults and living young adult lives. I’m living the life of someone with the freedom equivalent to a 12 year old.

Her husband moved in and hes toxic to her, got drunk and combative but she just blamed me after, she let him stay. He gaslights her and yells and makes her feel stupid, but she is infatuated. He has zero concept of boundaries, asks me “You’re not leaving because of me are you?”, if I try to leave the room when we’re alone. If my mom asks him to respect a boundary, he won’t, and he’ll just come ask me about it when I’m alone, and continue to not respect it. He moves my stuff because it’s “in the way”, and he shares my bathroom when they have their own. He doesn’t use his shower because mine has more space. He uses mine. And he moves my shower basket every time he’s in there, and keeps his bullshit on my counter, and moves my towels. He yells, and is hostile with his 18 year old dog when she barks or has an accident, but refuses to put a diaper on her because he “thinks she won’t like it”. She pees and poops on our carpet multiple times a week. She can’t help it, she’s a sweet girl and she’s 18, so go put her in a diaper or stop getting angry. Our carpets have been stained for years and theres constantly pee soaked in the carpets somewhere before he cleans it. Which he doesn’t clean very well, and maybe I don’t fucking want pee stained carpets. It’s also funny because he fancies himself a “dog whisperer” and gives unsolicited advice and criticism about my service dog in training, who has received professional classes, and who has nothing to do with him or his generic ass advice, that I couldve found with a google search. And he gets annoyed if I don’t praise him for his non applicable, unwanted comments. He’s not exactly Einstein, his advice is genuinely not at all remarkable. He never leaves the house and I can never leave my room without him coming and starting up some useless prolonged boring small talk. He makes “jokes” about me that are just insulting or just dumb. He’s oblivious about what he should and shouldn’t say to people. He criticizes everyone and he can never be wrong or corrected, even politely, or else he’ll throw a fit. He knocks on the door if I use my mom’s bathroom for more than 10 minutes and asks if I’ll take a long time, and I hate using my bathroom because it’s next to the basement, where he camps out in for hours, and I just don’t always want to run into him. I never go in my basement anymore. I used to stay there for hours. My drum set is in there, which he uses now. He rearranged the basement and moved all my stuff, and my mom just said it looks better. The basement used to be my second safe space, noa I never go in there at all.

My mom deflects and blames me and gets angry and defensive when I tell her how I feel about her husband. I don’t even tell her anymore. Just makes it worse. She’s an abuser, he’s an abuser, her first husband was an abuser. She can’t cope with leaving her shitty relationship because they’re in too deep, because they lovebombed each other and got married a few months after meeting each other in a facebook group. They decided they weren’t gonna listen to what anyone said, and she moved him in even though I said from the beginning I had a bad feeling about him. She told me “Don’t hate him, it’s much easier on me if you just don’t”, and “You just don’t wanna share me”, amongst all the other usual bullshit.

Now I just go out of my way and stay in my room all day. All day. Every day. For years now. It’s lonely.

Everyone around me fucking sucks and I’ve never felt more trapped and hopeless. It’s driving me crazy. Im so fucking trapped all the time. I never realized it was even an issue before, but I realized recently, and now I feel even more trapped.

I even hate sleeping, because i always stay up until morning with anxiety and restlessness, I need a new weighted blanket but my dog chewed my last one and my mom I guess can’t afford a new one. So it’s even harder to lay still. I need my weighted blanket to sleep. My bed isn’t comfortable either but I already asked for a new frame and a new mattress and I replaced my broken fabric dresser with an actual dresser with a mirror a little while ago- so I can’t complain about anything else, or she’ll be annoyed and refuse and say it’s too expensive, so my back always hurts even more. She complained when I got the new dresser, and blamed me by saying I didn’t put the broken one together properly. The sun always shines because I can’t sleep until morning, but she won’t get me another set of black out curtains after the last ones turned out to be too short, because she “Just can’t afford everything” and she has other stuff to buy for me first. It’s 7:41am as I type, and it sucks, I have to be up at 9:00am for an appt. I understand it’s expensive to raise a family. But my needs are my needs, and she is not meeting them. I don’t want to ask for too much, I just want to sleep.

My mom doesn’t care what happens to me, she watches me struggle or she watches something bad happen, and she is literally never helpful, she makes it worse. It doesn’t matter how bad it is, all she has ever done is get annoyed, blame me, ignore it, whatever else. Sometimes it truly feels like she has no intention of protecting me whatsoever. That’s what’s so evil to me. Is that when things have been urgent, when it’s been life or death, when I’ve been in acutely dangerous situations, all she does is roll her eyes and ignore it. She knows when something is dangerous. She knows when my life has been on the line. She knows when I’ve reached crisis, and she’s done nothing but be evil and malicious and instigate. The fact that this woman is willing to risk my safety all the time, is purely evil to me. She can help. She always could’ve helped, and she never has. I feel like she just doesn’t care what happens to me. Sometimes I wonder if she really just wants me to die, because she isn’t fucking clueless, and she knows she’s made no effort to ever actually keep me safe. She has no regards for me or my wellbeing at all. Why does she always turn her back on me when I’m in danger? That woman wants me fucking dead.

She should’ve just fucking aborted me, because now I’m here, and I don’t know what to fucking do. I’ve already wasted so much time, I’ve already been robbed of my youth and I’ve never hit any of the same milestones as my peers. I don’t have the experiences that others teens have and had, and I don’t know how to get out of this house. Even if I do, it’s hard. Hard if I stay, hard if I leave. And I’m sick of things being hard. I just want something to be easy.

My friends get tired of me canceling plans because I can’t always have my brother take me, or Im just too emotionally exhausted to hang out. I haven’t seen most of my friends in like 3 years. Except maybe 5 total hangouts, amongst only 2 of my friends.

I hate it here. I’m trying my best to cope and to figure everything out. But in the meantime, it’s almost too much. And I have to just handle it all on my own. Nobody listens and nobody’s there. I have nowhere to put my emotions. Nowhere. Just journals and music or whatever the fuck I can manage to do without being sabotaged or monitored. I’m tired and I’m miserable. I want someone to see that I’m trying, and it’s hard to even do that

When I was young (approx between 10-13 yrs), I travelled with my family from Ireland to attend my sister’s wedding in the UK. I was the flower girl and it was arranged that we would travel from my other sister’s home which she shared with her long term boyfriend/partner at the time and they had no kids at this stage, so it was just my sister, her partner and I in the flat, the night before my oldest sisters wedding.

My sister set me up on the pull out sofa bed she had in her living room, stuck on the tv for me and kissed me goodnight. I’m not sure exactly how long after it was but her partner came into the room, saw I wasn’t asleep and sat beside me on the pullout bed and I think he made conversation about what was on the TV at the time.
He then wrapped his arm around my waist and put his hands into my pjs bottoms and left his hand on my thigh/bum for what felt like forever but only a couple of minutes from what I can remember. He then made a comment that has stuck with me.. “I didn’t know you were old enough to wear thongs”. I just remember freezing, not liking what was going on and then he left. Not sure how long he stuck around but I don’t think it was very long.

I never spoke about it to anyone and continued to act normal around them and pushed it to the back of my mind.
I then told my mam and two sisters about it when moved to the UK myself years later but I didn’t receive any reassurance or validation, they just simply moved on with the conversation so I didn’t speak to anyone about it again.
It was only through my last couple of years of going through therapy that I revisited that horrid memory and it’s made me feel sick to my stomach that no one did anything at the time and now I’m left with a huge weight of guilt that I should have pushed it and told my sister about her now husband doing that, as they have three children together and have been married a long time.

Another reason why it’s come up for me is that my nieces (his daughters) have been suffering with MH issues and both have tried to take their own lives in the past few 2/3 years (only found this out recently), but my mind is becoming more and more consumed with the idea that something inappropriate happened with him and that is the reason for their suicidal thoughts.
However I haven’t spoken to my niece, nor do I want to ask that question, she’s a young teenager who may be struggling due to many different things like biology, (mental health issues are prominent in my family) she lived in the US for 5yrs and the drills used to scare her so it may be PTSD but her Mam recently mentioned that her doctor thinks she might have autism and can cause depression if not treated.

Regardless, categorically this happened and I feel shame. i have no idea what to do, I’m 31, it happened before over 10+ yrs ago, my sister has been happily married to him for yrs and has three lovely children and a whole life they’ve built. I cannot imagine the pain I would cause telling her what happened, I’m not even sure she would believe me but I’m scared he might have done something similar or worse and I’d feel ultimately responsible, but I feel so torn as I told my Mam and two other sisters but nothing ever came of it. I also spend a lot of time with her and the kids when I moved to the UK first and got along with her partner as normal because I genuinely blocked it out of my brain until the last couple of years.

The more and more I think about it, the more I feel the responsibility to tell her regardless of the outcome as she deserves to know. I would want to know.
I feel like an awful person harbouring this secret and it wouldn’t be as big if I had of told her at the time to what it would be now and could potentially break her family up forever. I’m genuinely stressed out over it and I’m no longer in therapy to speak to my psychiatrist about it.

WARNING: technically this discusses SA involving a minor. Before I was sexually assaulted I used to make jokes about inappropriate things a lot with my friends, nothing offensive but like weirdly freaky stuff. But I have noticed that after I was sexually assaulted I started hating those jokes and they made me feel unsafe around those who I love dearly. Another thing is after my SA just the thought of anything remotely sexual makes me want to throw up, I sometimes even refuse to look at myself. I was SA’d relatively young, around 11-12 years old give or take and now I want to move on with my life but I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for anything intimate. If anyone has advice or anything please respond to this.

Hello beautiful people. Trigger warning for SA and discussion of how it affected my gender presentation.

I wanted to share my experience for anyone else whose gender presentation was impacted by sexual trauma, and also as a contrast to people whose experience was different.

I’m a masc-leaning person, and yesterday I was decluttering my wardrobe, making donation and garbage piles from clothes I haven’t worn in years. Then I got to the skirts and dresses. My first instinct was to get rid of most of them, but instead I had a mini crisis and suddenly wanted to hold onto them.

I don’t see myself wearing them right now, but it made me more aware that I miss a feminine facet of myself that I haven’t expressed in a very long time.

I started presenting more masculine about a year after being sexually assaulted. At the time, I was dealing with intense shame, a fight-or-flight response around attraction and arousal, difficulty being touched, deep discomfort with attention from men, etc. One of the ways I coped was shaving my head and keeping a men’s haircut. Initially it was absolutely about safety and trying to stop being perceived in a certain way.

But as the years went on, I genuinely grew to love seeing myself that way. I felt like myself. I still do. I feel handsome, cute, and authentic in my masculinity.

Now that I’ve healed more, though, I’ve started questioning parts of my relationship with femininity. I’ve been trying to incorporate it in small ways, for example, makeup and wearing some of my old clothes. And every time I’m hit with this deep feeling of vulnerability. It feels like part of me associates femininity with danger, while masculinity feels safe.

What makes this complicated is that I do genuinely love my masculinity. I don’t think it’s inauthentic or trauma-created because it still feels good and right to me. But I do feel that trauma influenced how strongly I walled myself off from femininity and how unsafe it began to feel.

Right now, I think the most healed and authentic version of myself would be able to move between masculinity and femininity depending on mood and the day, without either one threatening my sense of safety or identity.

And again: this is my experience. I don’t want closed-minded people using my story as a “gotcha” against gender nonconformity or trans/masc identities in general. I believe trauma made associations between femininity and danger that I want to explore, and pushed me to uncover this other facet of my identity that was always there. I probably always will lean masculine in some way, because that feels "right" and authentic to me.

I’d really love to hear from other people about their experiences, whether similar or completely different.

I’m about to turn 30 and just went through a difficult breakup with someone. It was sudden, just like they all are. He exploded his rage onto me, I cried hard, and then I returned fire. Just like I usually do.

I was trying to process everything with my post-going-to-therapy brain, and I realized that there is some sneaky little pocket inside of me that is regulated.

There are times I can remember in my life where I felt secure and unshakable and safe and regulated. I’ve felt that way for a few months while single and I’ve felt that way for a few months while building a new relationship.

But inevitably, something triggers me, and inevitably I hurt bigger than I should, because it’s happening again. Abuse as a child. Bullying as a teen. Chronic health and injury issues leading to depression that led me to abuse in my early 20s. An abusive boyfriend in my mid 20s. Friends dropping me as I’m being cheated on and failing professional licensing tests after that. I feel like every few months something extremely big and painful comes along. And perhaps I’m reacting from trauma, but perhaps life is just horrible like that? Like what if that’s the whole point. Life is the same as gambling, we get just enough joy to hit the button again, but never for long enough to trust that it’s anything other than fleeting. There’s no such thing as BEING regulated and fine. There’s only feeling regulated and feeling fine, feelings that can disappear quite easily. But nobody can BE fine. Right?

Are there people out there who have, idk, reasonable amounts of abuse/trauma that feel level? They can listen to someone they love tell them their insecurities as facts and they simply reject that as a mean statement? They don’t believe it? They don’t take it to heart and understand its truth?

The first time in my life that I ever felt regulated was when I was around 26 years old. I used to host dinner at my house on Friday nights and I remember I was making wings for everyone and I loved everyone there so much. And it was such a thing, people showed up, people wanted to be there because people actually liked me and wanted to be in that space. I remember those nights being the first time I realized that you can be in a room full of people and just be happy. No need to say anything specific or track certain conversations or clean up or worry. I remember being so happy that I finally found it, contentment, okayness. But then after a while, of course I tried dating again, and got cheated on and so on, so a few more years passed before I felt okay again.

Is feeling okay something we will always chase? Or is there some point in maturing that you just stop caring and it’s neither okay or not okay it just is? You’re stoic the way a river rock is smooth, from years of weathering. Feeling frustrated that I can’t ever seem to find it for very long and wondering if it gets better.

Im not exactly talking about the kind of PTSD people get from a traumatic thing that happened to them like almost dying in a fire or am i saying they're comparable to each other in severity . So say this person had a really really embarrassing thing that happened to them for example saying something pretty dumb in front their whole class or something in the past like a day ago or more and they try to suppress thoughts of it ever happening in their head and things that remind them of the event gives them flashbacks of when it happened making said person really uncomfortable and avoidant to thing to remind of it. Im sure this kind of embarrassment could go away over time but it seems slightly PTSD–like uh to me .

So it's been almost a year since my last relationship, and I haven't been able to form any deep connections with anyone since especially in that manner. We dated for almost two years and I would've given the world to him with nothing in return. I have been in relationships in the past where the other party wasn't faithful but it never really effected me much and honestly same with this one. Once we parted ways nothing has really been the same...its actually better. I got my own place, good job, started nursing school, and body is tea. I just can't get over the feeling that people don't like me as much as i like them, and if i ever do express my feeling towards them it will be held over my head. In a, " you cared so much even though I didn't", kind of like I hold value and you don't. I have felt this way with almost every person I have meet since the breakup and it hasn't really bothered me because it keeps my peace. My issue is I met someone new and I want to tell him how I feel and take down this wall, but this idea I have makes it so hard. I literally cry thinking about the thought of my feelings being held over my head, to the point I feel sick. I asked my friend about what she thinks about my ideas and she feels it is a normal response to liking someone new, but we have the same trauma just different founts. I came here to ask for more opinions on the matter, and maybe some tips on how to go about coping with it.

Hello everyone👋

I just remembered my dream from today and I think I need to get this off my chest… I am german so please excuse my bad grammar.

I remember that when I was a child my mom once told me that we should never ever leave in a fight because we dont know whats gonna happen and she didnt want one of us to die on bad terms. That scared me a lot and we also fought a lot because she emotinally neglected me and I had to take on the responsibility of the emotions of all adults in my life since I can remember. Everytime we did have a fight I always dreamed of her dying and me just being so devastated.

I am now 23 years old and have been no contact with her for a few years. The dreams stopped at some point a few years ago. I am currently in my first serious relationship and we have been fighting a lot these past few months and I realised how bad my childhood actually influenced me. Same goes for my partner, we trigger each others trauma but actually we are starting to get much better at communicating and handling our emotions. We are currently in a very big fight though and I am unsure if our relationship will survive that.

So today I had that dream of my mother dying again. It was different than my other dreams before. To be honest I dont really remember the details. I think I was in a store and went on some kind of adventure there. I believe I had some sort of mission? I get a text from my dad saying that my mom died and I didnt respond. I am also very little contact with my dad. I was crying a lot but my feelings werent as gigantic as normally. My emotions tend to overwhelm me very easily and even small triggers can lead to me feeling like I wont survive that and trigger black and white thinking. I noticed that I got much better at to not let my feelings take over my whole life and there is like a calm spot that I found in myself and I realised that yesterday right before I went to sleep.

So my dream was not as overwhelming as they used to be. The only thing that was different is the regret of not having her in my life. To never be able to get any kind of closure. Never being able to know how her and her life was going ever since I went no contact. I do think about that quite a lot sometimes but I never dreamt this so clearly. It may be weird to some people but even though she was not a good mom and did some crazy stuff, I really do love her a lot. I want her back in my life, I know I cant when she doenst go to therapy but I dont know if I will ever be able to give up hope for her. She was so brave all of her life and never gave up! I have to thank her for my braveness and motivation to never give up on myself.

I did try to contact her a few times over the years. When I moved out she tried to text or call my for a few months but I ignored all of that. At some point she stopped and I couldnt stop myself from texting her. To be fair my texts were quite confrontational and direct. But I also very clearly stated that I do want her in my life but she has to go to therapy. She didnt really respond much other than that one text where she said that she is trying to deal with her emotions regarding my texts first but she will always love me. At some point she blocked me. That was like a year ago but I still hope she will come back. I have no idea what is going on inside her mind. I kinda regret some of the messages but honestly I dont know how I could have handled that differently.

Everyone around me seems to be able to get along with their parents and it hurts so much to see that. No one really gets me or all these mixed feelings I have about her. Everytime I said that I want to go back to her people assume I am joking. I tried telling them that I am for real but I dont think anyone understands. I know her childhood and what she had to go through so I kind of understand and she did try to get better.. but it wasnt enough. And she is currently living with her boyfriend who is an alcoholic and aggressive so I really cant go back to her without putting my life at risk.

Sometimes I wonder if I could have a better relationship to her if her childhood wasnt as bad. Or maybe she will get better? She will be 50 years old next year.. I dont want her to die or get alzheimers. She is at a lot of health risks and sometimes it feels like she could die just suddenly at any moment. And maybe no one would even think of telling me about it…

(Quem tiver compaixão e puder me ajudar veja os comentários, eu corro risco, tenho pouco tempo, por favor imploro. Vou deixar mais informações, não comentários para quem puder ajudar, qualquer valor ajuda)

Eu nunca imaginei que chegaria ao ponto de escrever isso publicamente.

Mas a verdade é que eu estou no meu limite.

Hoje eu tenho 4 meses de aluguel atrasado. Água atrasada. Luz atrasada. Contas acumuladas por todos os lados. Sem conseguir respirar direito no meio de tanta pressão.

E o pior sentimento do mundo é acordar todos os dias sem saber como proteger sua própria família disso tudo.

Eu olho para meu filho e sinto um peso impossível de explicar. Porque um pai quer segurança. Quer estabilidade. Quer proteger. E eu me sinto destruído por dentro por não conseguir entregar isso agora.

Tem dias em que eu simplesmente travo. Minha cabeça não para. Ansiedade. Dor. Desespero. Vergonha. Sei que minha depressão vem um pouco da parte do abuso que sofri quando criança, por pessoas próximas, carrego isso. Mas é texto pra outra postagem.

Vergonha de precisar expor minha dor. Vergonha de tentar pedir ajuda. Vergonha de parecer fraco depois de uma vida inteira tentando ser forte por todo mundo.

Mas ninguém suporta tudo sozinho para sempre.

Depois do acidente que quase me deixou sem a perna, minha saúde virou uma batalha diária. As dores nunca foram embora. Vieram problemas emocionais, noites sem dormir, pressão psicológica, depressão, medo constante e a sensação de estar afundando sem conseguir sair.

E mesmo assim eu continuo tentando trabalhar. Tentando criar algo. Tentando vender. Tentando sobreviver.

Porque eu não quero desistir.

Talvez algumas pessoas estejam cansadas de me ver aparecer. Talvez pensem que é exagero. Mas quem realmente está no fundo do poço perde até o orgulho tentando encontrar uma saída.

Eu não estou aqui buscando pena. Só não quero desaparecer em silêncio enquanto tudo desmorona ao meu redor.

Se você leu até aqui, obrigado. De verdade.

Porque às vezes a única coisa que mantém alguém vivo emocionalmente é perceber que ainda existem pessoas capazes de ouvir sem machucar ainda mais.

Obs; Chega de ofensa, se não puder ajudar tudo bem, mas não bata em cachorro morto. Leiam os comentários. Obg

I F21 went to a bar and played pool with a bunch of strangers. Men bought me drinks and i got flirty with one in particular and we kissed. we got fairly drunk and ended up at his place. we kissed again for only 30 seconds before he took out his junk and demanded i touch it. i panicked and said i had to go. he blocked my way and repeatedly took my hand to his dih while i resisted. I pretended like i was gonna stay and as soon as he moved from the door i bolted. i ran as fast as i could before he had time to get dressed and follow me. he tried chasing me down and i lost him. i stumbled 30 min home and im still drunk and gonna sleep it off.

i’m aware that we were gonna have do it but it was the lack of foreplay that made me wanna leave. we kissed for 30 secs and BAM his junk was out.

I was SA’d by an ex bf several times few months ago and again by a stranger on a night out a month ago and i couldn’t escape that time. i Thiught i was gonna be ok this time but i got anxiety at sex. i keep putting myself in these situations in hopes of regaining control it’s ever so confusing when will i ever learn

Please somebody read this, I beg. I know many have it worse than me, but I really want to talk this out and ask if life gets better. Does it?

I'm 24 years old, young yes, but legit since the beginning of my life it's just a huge downhill slide, and whenever I think it cannot get any worse, it gets sooo much worse. I was born half-paralyzed (lower body), and my father saw me as a being unworthy of living. He was very abusive with me (emotionally, verbally and physically) throughout my life since childhood. The health problem I said has vanished thanks to muscle therapy, but my father stayed the same. My mom always brushed my problems off, I could never turn to her and she never protected me against my father. When I asked other family members' help, they just told me to shut up, not to complain, and to never bother my mother with my things again. So there I was, left alone from the age of 10. I cried every single day and prayed to God to save me.

In school I was constantly bullied by teachers too (I was a very quiet girl, got my work done but I was visibly weak so people were picking on that), so I had many years when I was walking to school crying, anxious about what waits for me there, and then crying on my way back home too, not wanting to be there either. It was an extremely heavy period for me.

I had few friends but sooner or later they left my life, we didn't argue but I think I was too gloomy to be fun around.

Years went, and all my life felt so suffocating that I tried to kill myself multiple times. I had to go to therapies (the first one was at the age of 8), but they weren't really helpful. I did all the exercises and self-work stuff they gave, but none of those helped with the abuse and bullying.

Then I met a guy, we got together in LDR and were in it for 5 years. I was (am) a very loyal person and loving also, but as we could meet only once a year, it couldn't really work for longer. We were looking for apartments to move in together but he broke up. It broke me so much.

A day after the breakup, I was locked up and raped for five-six days, by a person I thought was a friend. It killed me.

After that I was suicidal and hated myself more than ever, and when I had the courage 9 months after the incident to tell my close family, they shamed and blamed me. I went to therapies but the mental health care in my country is pathetic so I couldn't go from square 1 to 2.

Then, I met the man I thought I would marry. He said I gave him more love than anyone before in his life, and that I gave him so much within 11 months as no one before, that I was as selfless as his own parents, with him. I truly loved, love this man. But it got revealed that for 10 months he has been actively betraying me and lying to me, about another woman. It killed me.

I feel absolutely hopeless about my life. I was always searching for God in different religions and spirituality and did my best to be a good person, always help others and not to turn bitter despite the things happening to me. I tried so much with my studies, hobbies, to not just live life but actively build life. But despite all my genuine efforts, hopes and prayers, I find myself in darkness and I cannot get out. I feel like I'm thrown in an extremely deep well and the walls are so slippery and smooth that I cannot climb out without help anymore. I'm tired.

And I always heard from people that it's darkest right before dawn, that when you lose hope, something great happens, etc etc. I truly believed this, waited and put in effort to see that good coming. But I find that I've been living in this darkest shit for so many years now, my soul is ripped by all the trauma, I suffer from memory loss, panic attacks, and that small good is still not coming. I'm waiting for a miracle and praying so much for mercy, but there is none. Please somebody help, i'm open to hear advice or anything that gives me hope. Just please say something to me.

Is there a name for the satisfying feeling when one of your trauma strategies works? Like if you learned "My performance is what makes me worthy" growing up, and you get a well-respected job and you're good at it, that will feel VERY satisfying (even though it's also causing harm). Is there a word or phrase for that? Right now, I'm just describing it as that satisfying scratch of an itch.

Also, do you think it's similar to when one of our beliefs are confirmed?Like if you have been hurt by a bully and then a bully is hurt in a movie and it's so satisfying. Is that the same as what I mentioned above? Thanks.

TW MENTIONS OF: DRVGS, SH, SVICIDE, NVDITY, ED, SA

14f it all started when I was probably 6, the first time I realized my grandparents (dad’s side so I’ll call them B side) don’t believe I need effort. At all. Then we fast forward to 7. My mom’s in and out of the hospital because of surgeries. Constantly. Terrible time. Now we fast forward to 9. Daddy’s on drugs. Mom wakes us up in the house freaking out. “Why the fuck are you on drugs again?” “I’m leaving you I’m so fucking done with you.” So we leave. My grandma picks us up. It’s early we go to eat breakfast after grandma calls daddy a monster. Why’s my daddy a monster? I love my daddy, get to their house. And they’re all talking about daddy I love my daddy but I guess I need to agree because he is doing bad stuff. Mommy asks me if she should stay with him. No of course not he’s on drugs. He shows up to her house. So he claims sobriety. Soon after. Guess what? He isn’t sober so from school one day we get picked up and my mom has suitcases in the back of her car? Why? I don’t know? So now me and my brother are nervous. And I guess we’re going to grandparents side a to stay. We stay a night. Mommy and daddy are fighting. My big brother say “this is why I’ve been wanting to kms for a while”. My brother wants to die? This is so confusing. Dad’s clean now. I’m scared. Fast forward I’m 10. I’m at school. Friends are talking. Friend L says her dads on drugs and I say me too my daddy had foam come out of his mouth when he sleep. We trauma bond. Wait I like her more than a friend? Am I straight? No. I date a few girls. Cute little crushes. I might’ve kissed one not really though. Mom decides to get me real phone instead of fake one or table I had so she looks thru fake one. I get home mommy asks me if I have something to tell her and hugs me. Mommy and daddy leave me with my grandma (side a) and I’m so nervous I’ll have to break up with my girlfriend. Mommy daddy please let me stay with her. I get home. Mommy and daddy are telling me how I shouldn’t be “anything sexual” but mommy!! Daddy!!! I’m bisexual! I like them both. Dad says I’m like his brother. His gay disowned brother. Ouch dad! That one hurt. Whatever. I beg my parents while sobbing please let me stay with her. But guess what? They say “it’s not that hard. Do you want a husband and a kid, or a wife and a dog?” I don’t fucking want either but I can’t say that but mommy daddy? So I say I don’t know. Yes I do. I want her. I want my girlfriend. Even if it’s a little crush. Now I’m 11. I get diagnosed with a disease same one I had in 2nd grade. I get pulled out of school for 2 months but I don’t care cause I’m getting bullied anyway. I’m out, and people are saying I have cancer?! No I don’t!! They’re calling me teapot cause of my laugh? I’m fat? No they’re right. I am. So I sit in my room making bookmarks and reading my book and cutting bookmarks with scissors. But wait what’s cvtting feel like? Let’s try it. I use the scissor and cvt my finger. Wait. Now I can breathe. This feels kinda good. Let’s do it again. (A pattern.) I tell my cousin. Oh wait she’s doing it too. Understanding. mom makes me mad while I wash dishes. I yell. She takes my phone. I go to bed. As I “sleep” my dad tells me to come down. I say can’t it wait til th morning he says no. I sit on the couch. Mommy and daddy wanna know why I would ever do that. Me and mom are crying. Dads mad. I continue to do it til sixth grade it gets so bad tha I’m doing it in class with disassembled paperclips. Skip to seventh grade. Friends quit talking to me as much. I get stressed. So I wonder well what would cvtting one more time feel like. I plan it. I end ip doing it 1-3x per night. I only missed one night in the span of 31 days. I end up with 39 scars. In this process I’m also sending random dudes nudes they like my body yay!! I feel appreciated wait no I’m fat I hate my body but I’ll still Send but maybe I can restrict too. Sounds good. Maybe I’ll try throwing up. Nah not for me only did it once. In this process th whole time im telling an Indian dude. All of a suddden I remember some how that my grandma (side b) used to and still did fondle my boobs. I forget about the cvtting one night so I come out in a dress (strapless) my mom sees my arm and asks what that is I’m not in the mood to talk I say and she says she doesn’t care I say she’s gonna cry she says no she isn’t so I call my brother down. Please help me deal with them. (This night was gonna be my first attempt, didn’t get to) so now dad and mom are asking why I don’t say why I blame grandma b purely not nudes or anything so they say they’ll look thru my phone I say no they chase me dad tackles me shit fuck that hurt. They get my phone I have a panic attack, they start looking thru it in front of mom dad and brother this is embarrassing I get home from school next day and guess what she found more and told grandma a, grandma a is so understanding and sweet. But now they buy me cream to get rid of scars but no I don’t want to then it feels like it never happened. Fast forward summer before now, wait there’s this girl I really like her but there’s no way I mean that was back when I was 10, 13 yr old me can’t like girls too. Fuck it I’ll date her. I want to. I like it, I like it too much we gotta break up (biggest heartbreak ever) now I ahve a notebook full of poems, me and grandma a run in the goodwill while moms washing car and reading poem she comes back and tells me that if she got past the first page she wouldn’t be able to drive us home. Btw in between this I’m in therapy. I don’t tel the therapist anything. Too risky. I tel her too much one day. I guess I have MDD I’ll tel mom. Oh mom says I don’t, oh she didn’t book a new appointment. Oh she says I look better I don’t need it anymore. Oh.

Now I have people at school talking about a guy I online dated and I had told him abt the whole cvtting so he threaten to call the police on me so I broke up with him but they don’t know that so they keep mentioning him and another guy I sent nudes too. This hurts. I barely have friends. Wow. Now mind you through all this I talked other people through not killing themselves.

My GF and I have been dating for a while, and our relationship has started to become more and more sexual. The issue is, there are some sexual activities she doesn’t like doing, and the way she has described it is, “I want to do these activities with you, but I just feel like I can’t. It’s not that I don’t love you, I just feel like I can’t.”

I’m asking for any recommendations on how to talk to her and help her through this trauma. I really want to help her through it, as it haunts her almost every time she gets a nightmare, roughly weekly. Is there any way I can help her?

My mother was diagnosed with bipolar disorder many years ago and has been on several mood stabilizers for a long time. I’d like to hear from others who grew up in similar situations and understand how it affected you emotionally long term.

Trigger warnings: SA, r*pe, assault, abuse (physical/verbal), eating disorders, ASD, ADHD, su*cidal tendancies/thoughts, chronic pain, attempt on my life, stalking, grief & loss, agoraphobia, psychotic break, self harm.

First time posting about something like this, but I’ve hit a wall. Apologies for the lengthy post.

For the last 6 months following a random operation that almost killed me, I (25f) have been having intense chronic pain flareups anywhere from 2-7 days a week, lasting anywhere from 4-24 hours. I can barely get out of bed while they’re happening, and I can’t sleep unless I take a shedload of painkillers regularly.
I was self employed prior, and therefore have been almost entirely out of work since the operation back at the end of October 2025.

Prior to this, I have not had the most fortunate time. I spent a day writing out a trauma journal that - as it stands, unfinished - is 20 pages long. I realised while writing it that I am almost entirely disconnected from everything negative that’s ever happened to me, and have exceedingly large gaps in my memory in regard to the bits in between.

As noted by the trigger warnings that I used to summarise my experience, a lot has happened. But, due to living with my family - who I do not get along with and haven’t done for as long as I can remember - I have no privacy. Thus, have never had anywhere I feel safe enough to process. At least, that’s my hypothesis as to why it felt so alien to write out.

It’s highly likely that I struggle with CPTSD on top of my recently diagnosed neurodivergence (diagnosed November/December 2025) & likely Alexithymia.

I’ve tried CBT before using BetterHelp following the events leading up to what I’m labelling a ‘psychotic break’ back in 2022. It helped with general anxiety regulation and with my agoraphobia, but not with anything that led up to that, which is what I’d like help with. CBT lasted around 6 months.
I’m also on a waitlist for NHS group trauma therapy, but I’ve been waiting on it since January. A call last week concluded it could take longer than 3 months for groups to begin.

As a result, I would really appreciate recommendations as to what type of therapy would best suit this situation. I’ve done a lot of research into things like EMDR, somatic experiencing and prolonged exposure therapy which seem promising,
but decision making isn’t exactly a strength of mine so I’d like some help.

Some info that may aid recommendations:
I don’t drive, and I live in rural England, meaning it’s nearly impossible to get anywhere.
I have some “safe times” when my folks are least likely to interrupt sessions, but in a month or so those will be obsolete.
I’m happy doing remote sessions outside.
I don’t have anyone nearby that I could visit, or anyone really close to me at all re: a support network.
I have some money saved up, but I also have massive amounts of spending anxiety due to both the environment I was raised in, and mass amounts of shame due to impulse spending. Hence the post, as I’d like to know what would best suit the situation before investing as it piles up fast. Task paralysis paired with monetary guilt is truly the bane of my existence haha.

My apologies once again for the post length, I just like to be thorough. Please do let me know if you have any questions, all recommendations welcomed, along with any advice anyone may have.

i recently broke up w my ex boyfriend of about 8 months due to him cheating on me and having the ex send me photos & call me, but as i left the relationship i realized everything wasnt all sunshine and rainbows.

I started thinking about the times he would pull a tazer out on me or loaded guns, which happened multiple times, and with the taser it was more than 5 times at least where he pulled it out and would chase me with it on & a few times recorded it and then another when he used it to get me to unlock my phone and tell him who was on my instagram, which that time he had it up to my neck.

how do i even begin to process all of this? i just told my friends and family members and also reported him to the police, but im still scared. I dont know why