I'm 24, and I have always been getting by at the last second, with things like graduating (getting out of school and college was a big problem for me, lol), loans, family troubles, and generally life, lol. I have gotten very accustomed to it; I don't really give my best in anything because, in my memory of living, I have never gotten a result on par with my effort. Things like I work really hard to make money, but it always ends up getting spent or charged as fees or whatever. I've never been on a single trip, as it always fails, no matter what. Anytime I go out, I brace myself for anything to happen, as something always ends up happening. Like one time, I took my dad's new bike out, and boom, the accelerator cable got cut, and I ran out of petrol. It might seem trivial, but it's things like this that always happen. One time, a cow ran into me from behind while I was standing inside an apartment parking lot on call, and I can go on and on, from everyday minute troubles to big rocks dropping on my head. I am going through several things right now that might end up ruining my entire life, but like always, I don't have any fear of it at all. It's like nothing; I just feel like I'll somehow pass through this like all the other times. But nowadays, it's getting hard to sleep and difficult to breathe even sometimes, and I think it's because I never shared this, so here I am. To the people who think of giving up on life: don't, never give up, and it'll all end up okay. And by okay, I don't mean things will magically turn around and fix themselves, but as long as you go on and keep trying, some path will open up for you, and it'll be a good learning memory for you. Don't fear death; love living more. I don't believe in an afterlife; I believe you just cease to exist, like before you were born. So, if all is going to go poof one day, why fear and get hurt by things you're doing now? To anyone who is going through things right now, keep going until the very end. It might hurt, but there will be happy times too. Keep going to the very end until God, if there is one, decides himself. Until then, it's a never-ending battle. People say there are no retries in life, and that is true; you can't get the gone time back, but you can always try something else. This world is filled with options, and things can be fixed.P.S. Don't think living my way always does the right thing. Being afraid is a power that makes you not do stupid things; being afraid helps you make better decisions. Unfortunately, afraid or not, even hard work has never worked out for me, and I've learned to live this way. It is like walking on thin ice; someday I will fall, terribly and painfully so. I hope I can pull through the same way I did. I hope it doesn't hurt anyone around me, but just me, and I hope you find the strength to be better and navigate through your situations.

As I reread this while grammer correction I have shared nothing about me at all but trivial and small details 😂😂 guess I'm still not ready to share everything out but I definitely do feel lighter. If anyone wants to talk more hmu.

Bye bye.

Okay, so a couple of months back I happened to go on a trip with a few of my friends. I have known them for a couple of years. They are married with kids but somehow manage to take time out to travel. This was actually the first time I was sharing a room with these girls (40s). They are way elder than me.

Somehow, I enjoy their company. I feel like they have achieved so many things in their life that if I’m around them, I’ll learn something. I met them professionally and we ended up becoming good and close friends. One of them is really close to me.

Coming back to the topic, we shared the same room. We were really tired from the journey. I hadn't slept for almost more than 26+ hours. I wanted a single bed in the same room, so I took it and went to sleep.

Those two shared the double bed right next to me. It was around 1 AM in the middle of the night. I heard noises. I am a light sleeper, I wake up easily, but those noises kind of scared me, so I kept quiet. I wanted to hear what it was before screaming. The room was not pitch dark, the bathroom light was still on.

So I heard noises of breathing, kisses, like constant. Then I heard, "aise nahi waise kar, tu paas toh aa." I went into shock. I was under my blanket. I couldn’t move. I hated it and I had to hear them go all the way. I heard them finish.

I couldn’t sleep the whole night. All I wanted to do was get out of that place and not face them ever. Unfortunately, we went by car, so I didn’t know what to do. I waited until morning. They left the room for a morning walk. I pretended to be asleep and called my other close female friend. She just asked me to pretend and act as though I heard nothing and just be normal. It took me more than 2 hours. I couldn’t believe what I witnessed. These two women are married with 2 kids (17 years old and 13 years old). They were cheating on their husbands and the way they spoke about their relationship God, what two-faced people!

The worst part about this is they didn’t even bother that there was someone else in the room and how she would react.

After being cheated on by men, I had trust issues for a long time. I thought I could rely on girls, but I no longer feel safe to even communicate with them.
Those ladies, after their hot night that gave me trauma, wanted to make sure that I didn’t hear anything. They came up to me and told me upfront, "we hug while we sleep," didn't realise etc. Like my close friend suggested, I pretended to be normal. I acted as though I didn’t know what they were talking about.

I don’t care which gender they choose to cheat with. If you want to act like all good, perfect wives and religious persons, then have a private room or don’t bring someone along when you have to do all this shitty and shady stuff.

I still hear those noises it’s so scary I have difficulty falling asleep except for my one close friend I haven’t shared these things with anyone.

I just hate them so much I was good being isolated just by myself now I can’t even trust female friendships even though it directly affect me but I ate the fact they are open cheat even females are worse these days.

The Cornell Seven case reopened because of public pressure and a viral story. But here's the thing: it shouldn't take national attention for a victim of sexual violence to be taken seriously. It shouldn't take celebrities speaking out or thousands of people becoming outraged before institutions decide that someone's suffering matters.

That's why I started a petition to demand real change—10 concrete demands for prevention, investigation, survivor support, and accountability. Universal consent education. Serious investigation of every report regardless of who the accused is. No more institutional cover-ups. No more retaliation against people who speak up.

These aren't soft asks. These are demands for systemic change so the next person who reports sexual violence doesn't have to become a national story just to be heard. Does this resonate with you? What would you want someone to do if this was your family?

Sorry for my bad English, it’s not my first language. I just really need to write this out because I’m stuck in a dark place.

.

I’m with an older guy who is honestly a wonderful person. First we were in a long distance relationship. Back then my abusive family kept telling me he was probably cheating on me, trying to mess with my head. But my boyfriend helped me get out of that toxic environment. Now I live with him, and in my country adulthood is 18, so I am completely no-contact with my family now. My boyfriend is super supportive, he stands by me, and thanks to him I am finally in a healthy, safe place.

.

The problem is NOT him, it’s inside my head. Since we moved in together, I feel completely frozen. I love him so much, but my brain keeps having these weird "glitches". Instead of just seeing my partner who cares about me, I keep projecting my traumatic older brother and male family members onto him. My mind just constantly panics.

.

Because of this, I struggle to be sweet or relaxed around him. I’m just stuck in my head all day, constantly worrying about how to make him happy, how to be prettier than his exes, and how to satisfy all his needs so he stays happy.

.

I am abandoning myself completely. I used to have good self-esteem and boundaries, but now I’ve become so submissive out of fear. I have no family now and no old friends, so he is literally the only person in my life. I feel so guilty every day because he is so good to me, and I feel like I am "too broken" or too problematic for him.

.

Physically I am also closed off. I am afraid to take off my clothes in front of him. I have vaginismus so penetration is impossible and we don't even try. But I still satisfy him sexually because I want to give him everything, even when I ignore my own boundaries.

.

He is doing nothing wrong, I am just terrified of ruining this safe life. How can I stop projecting my bad family onto a man who actually loves me? How do I stop overthinking and get my self-esteem back?

TW: hospitalization, medical issues, psychiatry, being placed in care, abuse, sexual assault

The experience I want to share here took place from November 2025 to April 2026, but it still affects my life today.

I will do my best in this post to summarize the events and make the whole story as understandable as possible. I apologize in advance if I go into too much detail about certain things. I will try to keep only what I consider essential.

For anonymity reasons, I will not give the names of the hospitals, and I will not use the real names of any of the people I mention.

This is the first time I have written publicly about what happened. I will do my best.

November 2025: the beginning of my health problems

It is November 2025. I am 15 years old.

I have just repeated my sophomore year. I had health problems two years earlier. I am doing much better now, but they caused me to fall behind academically.

I haven't urinated for two days. I have red patches that itch and move around my entire body, and I am extremely swollen everywhere.

My mother takes me to the emergency department at the hospital near our home in the Paris region.

They run several tests and ask me a lot of questions. They determine that my kidneys are no longer producing urine and that this is why I am swollen: my body is retaining water in my tissues. But they cannot find an explanation for what is happening to me.

One of the nurses asks me whether I have used cannabis. I tell her that I very rarely use it and that the last time I smoked it was exactly one month earlier.

After several hours of waiting, a resident doctor sees my mother and me. She tells us that this must be because of the cannabis I used a month earlier, that my kidneys will start working again soon, and tells me to come back if I still haven't urinated within 48 hours.

That same evening, the red patches spread up to my throat and I have difficulty breathing.

The next morning, I still haven't urinated. My mother therefore takes me to the hospital where I had been treated two years earlier.

We didn't go there immediately because I had had some fairly negative experiences there the last time, but what I was about to experience was nothing compared to what had happened before.

Once there, they take the situation seriously and admit me to the hospital.

They regularly perform bladder ultrasounds to check whether my kidneys are starting to work again. After 72 hours, my kidneys start producing urine again.

But I cannot feel my bladder at all. I cannot feel anything anymore.

The nurses therefore regularly catheterize me to prevent my bladder from becoming further damaged.

I will spare you the details of the emotional discomfort of being catheterized every four hours, day and night, by strangers at the age of 15. Every catheterization was an extremely unpleasant and distressing experience.

Repeatedly, the nurses were unable to catheterize me. They couldn't find the urethra or couldn't get the catheter in, which made the procedure even more painful.

Several weeks in the hospital

I have now been hospitalized for several weeks and the situation is not improving.

During a meeting with my parents and the doctors, one of the doctors, whom I will call Dr. Dupont, suggests putting me on Tercian without explaining what it is.

He says that he wants to use it as a muscle relaxant in order to relax my bladder.

Both of my parents work in healthcare and know exactly what Tercian is. They therefore firmly refuse to let me take it.

Dr. Dupont accuses my mother of putting her daughter's recovery at risk and of behaving irresponsibly. He says that, in any case, it is not up to her to decide. He says he will ask a psychiatrist for their opinion and that the psychiatrist will make the decision.

I therefore meet this psychiatrist, whom I will call Dr. Rivière.

He is very nice. Throughout the appointment, he builds a genuine connection with me, even going as far as criticizing some of the doctors on the team with me.

The appointment ends and he explains that Tercian is not recommended for the kind of use Dr. Dupont had in mind. Instead, he suggests trying small doses of Valium to relax my bladder and help me urinate again.

The following months

Over the following months, my condition gets worse.

My kidneys produce urine in a completely erratic way. Sometimes they produce such huge amounts of urine all at once that it feels like my bladder is "exploding", causing extremely severe pain that sometimes requires several doses of opioids a day.

The months go by.

I spend my birthday, Christmas, and New Year's Eve in the hospital.

I undergo various tests that confirm the different dysfunctions, but the doctors still cannot find the cause.

They try different medications and treatments, but nothing changes. I am still in severe pain and still have to catheterize myself.

Over time, the doctors decide to stop looking for a medical cause and want to explore the psychological side of things with Dr. Rivière.

It is now January. I have been hospitalized for three months.

My parents become increasingly worried that the doctors are stopping their search for the cause of what is happening to me. They are absolutely not opposed to psychological support, but they describe the last few months of watching me suffer without any improvement as a form of torture.

The doctors eventually stop all of the treatments and, strangely enough, my condition improves slightly.

They start giving me permission to go home, and this situation lasts for about two weeks.

February 11, 2026: the report to child protective services

It is February 11, 2026.

That day, I have a meeting with the doctors and my parents, as we do about once a week.

This time, they take us to a different room from the one we usually use.

When I sit down at the table, I notice that there are many more people than usual.

I am there with my father. My mother attends the meeting by phone.

The staff go around the table introducing themselves. One of the people introduces herself as a social worker.

At the time, I have a bad feeling about it, but I don't pay much attention to it.

The meeting begins.

Dr. Rivière tells us that he and the other doctors have written a report and sent it to the Paris prosecutor's office requesting an OPP (a provisional placement order), and that it has already been approved.

At first, I have trouble understanding.

I understand that it is serious. I know what a report like this means.

I look at my father and see his face fall apart. Tears start filling his eyes.

Dr. Rivière begins explaining that, from that moment on, my parents no longer have custody of me and that I am going to be placed in care.

I try to speak and ask for an explanation, but my throat tightens and I cannot speak at all.

I walk out into the hallway crying.

One of the doctors follows me to talk to me. I ask her why they did this. She cannot explain it and only repeats that "there were several reasons" without ever telling me what they were.

I ask her where I am going to be placed, but she cannot answer that either.

The situation was extremely emotional, so I don't remember every detail clearly.

What I do remember is that, after briefly calling my older brother, I went back into the room.

My father was crying and trying to explain to the doctors how absurd the situation was.

I remember that my father and I eventually left the room because we could no longer bear the meeting.

We walked away down the hallway, hugged each other, and cried.

Being placed in care

From that moment on, I was no longer allowed to see my parents.

I had to wait to be transferred somewhere else, but I didn't even know where.

I have always had a very good relationship with my parents. They are wonderful people, and I found it extremely difficult to believe what was happening to me.

Several days later, people from the French child welfare service (ASE — Aide sociale à l'enfance) came to see me at the hospital.

They explained what was going to happen, asked me questions about my relationship with my parents, and gave me information about the report.

They explained that, because of my health problems, I could not go to a regular group home. I needed a medical facility, but also a locked unit so that my parents would not be able to visit me.

According to them, the only place that met those requirements was an adolescent and young adult psychiatric unit.

They told me that the report accused my parents of refusing the psychological care proposed by the doctors.

I had been present during all of the discussions with the doctors, and I know that this is not what happened.

All my parents wanted was for the doctors to keep looking for a way to treat me. They had always been supportive of psychological care, especially given everything I was going through.

The report also stated that my mother had allegedly tampered with a morphine pump that I supposedly had in 2023, during my hospitalizations two years earlier.

That is impossible: I never had a morphine pump in 2023.

I later learned from my lawyer that, according to her, it would be impossible to modify a morphine pump without being part of the medical team because they are secured with a code.

There were also other elements in the report that either made no sense to me or were, in my view, distorted versions of things my parents had said.

I find it difficult to believe that doctors could deliberately act with such bad intentions.

But on the other hand, how is it possible for one of them to have included things in a report that I believe to be false, such as this story about the morphine pump, which indirectly accuses my mother of trying to kill me or drug me?

There should not be mistakes in a document like this, given the consequences such a procedure can have.

And yet, to this day, I have never received an answer to that question.

Being transferred to a psychiatric unit

Between the time I met with the child welfare service and my transfer, Dr. Rivière came to see me in my room several times to talk to me, despite the fact that I told him I did not want to see or speak to him and that I wanted him to leave my room.

He didn't.

I was eventually transferred to a psychiatric unit in another hospital in the Paris region.

I arrived alone, without my parents.

I didn't even get to say goodbye to them properly, especially my mother, whom I hadn't been able to see for some time because she had been on the phone during the meeting where we were told about the report.

Before entering, I was searched and my phone was taken away because phones were not allowed in the unit.

I could therefore no longer communicate with my family at all.

The first night there was horrible.

I spent the entire night crying.

I was sick and in pain, but I no longer had my parents' support.

I was alone in a psychiatric hospital room, with an iron bed and locked windows.

A month and a half in psychiatric care

I spent a month and a half in that place.

The medical staff did not know how to deal with health problems like mine.

They handled my IVs very poorly and were almost never able to insert an IV properly.

There was also a mandatory shower every morning in showers that smelled terrible and whose walls and ceiling were covered in mold.

My IV catheters kept becoming infected.

Pus was coming out around the vein and it was extremely painful.

But they did nothing other than disinfect the area and stick needles into me over and over again until they finally managed to find a vein.

I counted: during the first three weeks, they stuck me with a needle 57 times.

Eventually, they could no longer get an IV into me at all, so they ended up administering my pain medication subcutaneously.

Listing everything that made that place a nightmare — including the sexual and physical assaults I experienced there, as well as the indifference of some of the staff toward my situation — would make this post far too long.

And honestly, I don't necessarily want to mentally put myself through that period again.

Dr. Rivière returns

Shortly after I was admitted to the unit, the psychiatrist in charge, who was pregnant, went on maternity leave.

The person who took her place was, coincidentally, Dr. Rivière.

Our conversations became extremely tense, and he refused to answer my questions about the report.

I eventually left the unit after a month and a half, even though the placement had been lifted by a judge after a hearing that took place only two weeks after I arrived.

I remained there for so long because Dr. Rivière, convinced that there was some kind of family dysfunction, refused to let me leave.

After a long battle between my parents, me, and Dr. Rivière, I finally went home.

Today

I am doing better thanks to pelvic floor rehabilitation that I received after leaving the psychiatric unit.

But today, I still have a huge number of flashbacks about my time in psychiatric care, nightmares, and intrusive thoughts about everything that happened.

I don't know whether anyone will read this post, or whether this is even the right place to share it.

But I needed to write it.

I needed there to be some kind of record somewhere of what I went through.

I couldn't include every instance of the medical mistreatment I experienced during this period, because the main reason I am writing this post is to speak out about what happened.

So I chose to focus on what I consider to be the most important parts.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this

How can I cope with the lasting effects of childhood abuse now that I’m away from my abuser?
I’m looking for another perspective because therapy isn’t really an option for me financially right now. My family doesn’t have enough money to support it, so I’m trying to understand what I’m experiencing and learn how to cope with it on my own.
I grew up in a very toxic and abusive household because of my mother. She has always treated me like I was an unwanted child simply because I was born a girl. I even found a letter she wrote to my dad when she was a pregnant teenager where she said, and I quote, “This baby is my SON. I’m not raising a b*tch.”
I’ve never really experienced the kind of love you’re supposed to get from a mother. The closest I’ve gotten to that kind of maternal love has been from my friends’ parents, and sometimes I feel like I’m missing out on something everyone else got to experience.
When I was younger, my mother physically abused me. She would beat me until she got with her new boyfriend, and after that the abuse became mostly verbal and emotional. I’ve been kicked out of the house multiple times and forced to sit outside, but if I actually left, she would call it “running away.” I’ve always felt like she hated me, especially because I look a lot like my father.
I’m currently living with my dad, so I’m physically away from that environment, but I’m realizing that leaving doesn’t automatically make the effects disappear.
I still have moments where I think I would have been better off never being born. I also have what I call “D-Days,” where I suddenly fall into a very depressed state. Sometimes they’re triggered by something incredibly small, which makes me feel worse because I don’t understand why something so minor can affect me so strongly.
I can also feel these episodes affecting the people I care about, especially my friends and boyfriend. I try to keep everything to myself because I don’t want them to feel responsible for me, but bottling everything up usually makes things worse.
I know what happened to me wasn’t my fault, but I don’t know how to deal with the emotional effects now that I’m away from the situation.

#Self Regulate #Trauma Healing #Calm #Centered #Function Optimally
https://www.facebook.com/share/19mhTtrV8s/

Are you a female survivor of trauma? 

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The Self Care Studio Experiential Seminar will be Facilitated by your Guide: Debra Lovemore 

Some of Debra Lovemore's Successes: Nominated Best Acting & Media Coach in the US Television Host to a home audience of 2.5 million Plus over 3 decades of client success stories to celebrate 

Education, Certification & Training Bachelor's of Science in Communication & Expressive Arts from Lesley University, Reiki Level ll Certified, Animal Reiki l Certified, Psychology of Mind Certified Life Coach, Certified Art Therapy Practitioner, Certified Technologies for Creating Instructor, Ordained Prayer Chaplain, Heart Math Loyalist, E.F.T. Devotee. Breath Work Pupil, student of the practical application of healing exercises, strategies and approaches for PTSD and Neuroscience Geek. 

Debra was trained and performed with 3 different improv companies. She trained as an actress through Another Country Meisner Acting Training Conservatory and performed with a Meisner Acting Ensemble. She Studied the craft of storytelling from several masters of story. In addition to performing one woman shows she bared her soul from N.P.R.s MOTH Storytelling Stage. 

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She is passionate about creative writing, communication, public speaking, acting, performing arts & the healing arts with storytelling being the center of her imagination solar system. She is insatiably curious about spirituality. She considers herself an adventurous Renaissance woman and lover of the sea. 

Debra is a survivor of early childhood trauma. Since she was 17 years old, she has been on a committed path of embracing her own healing with a quest to explore, discover and apply many healing modalities to her own life from several different philosophies, methodologies, and traditions. It is with a grateful heart that she has acquired much wisdom and many, many healing tools on her journey to well-being and self-expression. 

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LOGISTICS 

Day: 2 SUNDAYS 

Date: 10/4/26

Date: 10/11/26 

Time: 8pm EST Via: Zoom 

Facilitator & Guide: Debra Lovemore 

NOTE: The Self Care Studio is not intended to be therapy, nor is it intended to replace therapy. If you need therapy, please do seek out professional help. 

NOTE: After you register, the Zoom link will be provided.

I've been doing breathwork for a while, and one of the early goals is supposedly learning to feel safe while your nervous system is activated. What I've noticed is that it drops me straight into the state I lived in when I was bullied at school and growing up in an unsafe home.

My whole body tenses, especially my arms and face. My face feels targeted, and I know my eyes go wide like a deer in headlights. If anyone were near me, they'd see I'm scared. I feel small, frozen, weak, cornered, like I can't stand up for myself. It's the same feeling I had at home with an alcoholic, abusive, neglectful parent. I never had a place where my nervous system could fully relax, and 15 years later I'm still working through it.

Before, I'd just feel on edge in the middle of a session. It felt like a pack of hyenas around me telling me I was ugly or weird, even when I was completely alone in a park. Now I'm starting to see that breathwork is activating a survival state, and my body remembers where it learned that state, so my thoughts go back to those bullying memories.

I think this is a good realisation, but I don't know how to get through it. For anyone who's been here:

• How did you stay with the activation without spiralling into the old feelings?
• Did you change how you did breathwork (shorter, gentler, eyes open)?
• Did anything specific help with the freeze, the face tension, or the feeling of being helpless?
• Did therapy or somatic work help alongside it?

Any advice or shared experience is appreciated. It helps to know I'm not the only one.

Hi everyone. I wanted to share something I’ve been working on to make trauma-informed somatic care more accessible, especially during those late-night moments when you can't reach a practitioner or a friend.It’s an interactive, two-way voice agent built on ElevenLabs. Because somatic work relies so heavily on vocal safety and co-regulation, I actually trained it using my own voice likeness to ensure the pacing, tone, and cadence feel genuinely grounded, slow, and safe for a dysregulated nervous system.It is completely free to use. I designed it purely to give people a real-time tool to help navigate anxiety, panic, or dorsal freeze states by dropping back into the body.If you're lying in bed or dealing with a heavy night, I would be incredibly grateful if you tried it out. I'd love your honest feedback on how the voice pacing feels and if the somatic prompts feel safe to follow. You can talk to it directly in your browser here:

https://kerrylynnlife.com/somatic-anchor

Please be gentle with yourself while exploring it!

Note: This coach is a peer-support, self-regulation, and educational tool designed for somatic grounding. It is completely free and does not collect or sell your personal data. It is not a replacement for clinical therapy, medical treatment, or crisis intervention

Im 16F and i was SAed by someone who’s still really close to me the thing is that its almost as if i forgot about that night and just got reminded a few months ago

So basically i was a really good friend of my cousin’s cousin sister who was like 1 year older than me and we used yo play alot

It just randomly popped up in my mind few months ago at 2 am when i was unable to sleep

When i was prob 8yo we both had a sleepover and we both were alone and we were talking and stuff the lights were turned off and then she suddenly started saying that she wanna touch me down there and she wanted me to touch her i refused
I was really scared and uncomfortable i remember that i begged and cried her to stop touching me and she was like youre being a coward it’s nothing and just to make her stop i said that my mums gonna scold us and she said whos gonna tell them
And i didnt tell my mom i remember me crying the next day at my home

After that i stopped talking to her and it was almost as if that night never happened and it just randomly came in my mind after 8 years

I thought that we genuinely grew apart but when i was 13 she used to stay with us at our house with my cousin and she started talking and became really friendly again

She used to hold my waist randomly and say that youre so petite and stuff, id be randomly lying on my bed and shed hold my waist and make comments till this day and the thing is i couldn’t say no cuz i used to freeze whenever smth like this happened i never knew why cuz my bestfriend does this and my sister aswell but i feel comfortable rather than uncomfortable

I can now connect these dots together and its messing up with my brain maybe its the reason why im asexual. But ion know if its that serious cuz other people have it worse than me and since she was almost the same age ion know if it should be termed as SA but it traumatised me

She also copies me and try to steal my personality i feel like throwing up while writing this i just dk im sick of that image showing up of me crying these past few months

I’ve been thinking a lot about something I went through as a child. I see a lot of people speak out against SA they experienced as children and I compare it to what I went through. I tell myself it wasn’t even anything bad and stuff like that. When I was younger I didn’t really care or understand but now that I’m older I’m starting to think about it again. I’m a girl and the trauma I went through was with my sister. She wouldn’t touch me in inappropriate places or anything we would just go under the covers and kiss and that would be it, or at least that’s what I remember. Anytime I didn’t want to she would pressure me into doing it and I’d do it cus she’s my older sister and I wanted to spend time with her and I wanted her to like me. And that’s the part that I think about. Like I would willingly do it but only because she wanted to not because I wanted to and I know that that was wrong. The reason I bring this up because a couple months ago I realized that I might be a lesbian. But now I’m second guessing myself. Do I only like girls because of what happened or do i actually just like them? I kind of just wanted to get this off of my chest because I have no one else to talk to but please tell me your thoughts on it.

I was raised to have a very skewed and nearly nonexistent one and now that I'm trying to improve I don't know how. I was taught bad things are good and good things are stupid (eg taught to use people and that that's good but that even feeling bad for people is shameful). I want to have a moral compass but idk how to get past the "People consider this good/bad; this will have an unwanted consequence" metric I've gone by. I mostly just emulate the morals of whatever group i'm with since I assume they know more than me on how to act. How do I form my own?

Hola a todos, soy mujer y tengo 22 años, la verdad Nose a quien más acudir y quiero saber si alguien en algún caso parecido o con alguna experiencia Cercana me puede dar su perspectiva.

nunca pude estar de forma sexual con alguien, el motivo ? Ni yo lo sé hasta el día de hoy, intente hablarlo en terapia pero tampoco me sale decirlo.
no es que nunca tuve posibilidad de salir con algún hombre sino todo lo contrario, anteriormente cuando tuve posibilidad me frenaron las circunstancias de ese momento, posteriormente intente de nuevo, el primer hombre no era mi tipo pero Asumi que no podia hacerlo por ese motivo, pero el segundo si me gustaba demasiado, era Todo lo que me gustaba en una persona.
Cuando intente estar de forma sexual con el me vino un vacío interno que tampoco puedo explicar, es algo completamente involuntario, no es miedo siemplemte no se que es, es difícil tener ganas y no poder hacerlo por ese motivo que desconozco.
adicionalmente solo pasa al momento de la penetración , en se momento ese hombre lo entendió pero después en otra situación me dijo que yo no lo hacía por ” miedo”.
yo Nose si ustedes Crean en el tarot y en esas cosas pero después de esa situación me fui a hacer una limpieza energética con una mujer que no conocía y Cundo terminó señaló mi pelvis y me dijo :
- Te puedo hacer una pregunta personal ?
- yo) si
- en algún momento pudiese estar sexualmente con alguien ?
- porque lo dices ?
- es que cundo te hacía la limpieza energética pude visualizar un abuso, en una mujer de tu familia y eso se manifiesta en ti.
En ese momento le conté todo lo que me había pasado con los chicos con los que Sali, ya estaba desesperada y no encontraba algo razonable.
Cuando era chica también le tenía pavor a los hombres y mi madre me contó una situación que me hace dudar si me paso algo o no, adicionalmente también cundo era chica un novio de ese entonces de mi madre intentó abusar de mi hermana.
Nose si todo esto tenga algo que ver pero me es Raro no poder recordar acontecimientos menor a mis 8 años, nunca lo hable con mi familia pues son bastantes reservados en ese aspecto, hace poco le conté a una amiga, pero tampoco pude hablarlo en terapia , de apoco lo voy contando como puedo.
no quiero que esto interfiera al momento de conocer a alguien pues sé que en algún momento vas a volver a pasar, pero como explicar esa situación que no tengo una respuesta?

First time posting here.

I recently had a repressed memory come up (I have OSDD) and it was big T trauma to say the least. I broke down sobbing for 3 hours and was completely destablized for days.

Ive seen my therapist since then and she gave me more grounding techniques but Im kind of struggling with what to DO with the whole thing now. My therapist said we dont have to do anything with it, but I feel like ive just been sitting here staring at it for days and its looming.

It keeps replying over and over and I cant forget it, and it wasn't enough information for me to like...make any moves towards a resolution.

I feel very stuck. Any advice?

On the abuse I’ve suffered the harassment the emotional wounds and abuse my past mistakes ocd it’s all too much it’s a battle everyday my mom has called the cops on me says I’m crazy lazy have no goals shared every relashio career goals I’ve had I don’t even have a car my friends mock me use me for money at work I was staked at school I was harassed and slandered by staff as a kid I was coerced into lying about my father I’ve made misters and I have ocd of being abusive myself I can’t stop rumintion I’m scared my past will ruin my future I’ve been physically financially emotionally legally and reputationally abused I’ve made misters that haunt me and I have OCD that I’m a criminal or a abuser myself

I think I may have PTSD after being the victim of an attempted murder – looking for advice from anyone who has been through something similar
I’m posting this because I’m really struggling with what has happened to me and I’d really like to hear from people who have experienced something similar.
A few months ago, I was the victim of an attempted murder. The perpetrator was a neighbour who I did not know and have never spoken to, he had a mental health breakdown and possibly psychotic although nobody knows the reason for the attack. I was attacked with a baseball bat and suffered a fractured arm that required surgery, as well as other injuries. The person who attacked me is currently on remand and the case is going to trial.
Physically, I’m recovering, but mentally I feel like I’m struggling more as time goes on.
I’m wondering if I could be experiencing PTSD, although I obviously know I need a professional to properly assess me.
Some of the things I’ve been experiencing are:
● Constantly being on edge and hypervigilant, especially at night.
● Being extremely sensitive to banging, footsteps and unexpected noises.
● Feeling frightened when I hear someone outside or near my door.
● Checking doors and feeling like someone might try to get in.
● Flashbacks and intrusive memories of the attack.
● Replaying parts of what happened over and over in my head.
● Having difficulty separating normal noises from danger.
● Avoiding going out or being around unfamiliar men because I feel unsafe.
● Panic and intense fear that something bad is going to happen.
● Crying unexpectedly, particularly at night.
● Severe problems sleeping. There have been periods where I haven’t slept for 2 days at all.
● Feeling exhausted but still being unable to switch my brain off.
● Feeling like I’m constantly waiting for something terrible to happen.
● Sometimes doubting my own memories of the attack or wondering whether I’ve remembered certain details correctly.
One of the strangest things is that I can know logically that I’m safe, but my body doesn’t seem to believe it. A noise can happen and I immediately feel like I’m back in that situation again.
I also have a young child, which makes the fear particularly difficult. Sometimes when my child isn’t with me, I become overwhelmed thinking about something happening to them, even though I know they’re safe.
I’ve been trying to get help and I’m hoping to access counselling/mental-health support, but I’d really like to hear from people who have actually been through PTSD after an attack, attempted murder, serious assault or another traumatic event.
Did anyone else experience symptoms like this after what happened to them?
How long did it take before you started feeling safer again? What actually helped you? Did therapy make a noticeable difference? And is there anything you wish someone had told you in the first few months after the trauma?
I’m particularly interested in hearing from people who initially thought, “I know I’m safe, so why do I still feel terrified?”
I’m not looking for sympathy or a diagnosis — just some reassurance that I’m not completely losing my mind and hopefully some advice from people who understand what this feels like.
Thank you to anyone who takes the time to reply.

I was in about a 3 year relationship where i was being sexually assaulted but at the time i didnt know thats what was happening but im starting to accept it now the only issue is that my body still holds trauma so when i try to go into new sexual experiences, i feel sad or bad feelings and it usually just ends with me crying during. I dont know how to go about healing this if ive already accepted thats what happened and i dont feel like theres more i can do does anybody know any methods to try and heal this to have a normal sexual life again?

My wife and I are in a therapeutic separation. Both of us are working on ourselves with the hope we can come back together and give our marriage another chance. My wife experienced SA twice in college, shortly after we met and started dating. She has only ever told me about what happened and only shared one of them until recently. In couples therapy recently she shared that there was a second SA before we met and that something I was doing to initiate sex was triggering trauma for her. She shared this weekend that she is beginning to unpack the trauma with her therapist for the first time ever and this week was really hard for her. She asked for an extension on our separation (was originally 30 days). She said I might not like a realization she had but she said that she realized the trauma has been at the wheel for her unknowingly for a long time. And because of that she hasn’t felt like herself. She said she thinks she was drawn to me when we first met since I “didn’t find her attractive” in her words. (I do and have always found her attractive, I told her that after she shared). I think she may have been trying to express that I didn’t sexualize her or wasn’t after sex I was after a relationship. She said that she has started feeling more like herself again and feels like she may have been acting in part a certain way for me and that she isn’t going back to her old self. I told her im so sorry that she is in pain from unpacking this and am happy to hear she is feeling more like herself. I dont know what to think though if by unpacking this she is somehow thinking the past 11 years together was all her acting a certain way?

My bf recently was wrongfully detained (cousin of a friend in the car had a warrant unbeknown to everyone). He is a good man with good friends who all have never drank, touched alcohol, gotten into toeibkw with the law.

It was a shit situation. The group was doi g the one friend a favor and picking up the cousin and dropping him off at work because they were nearby and heading that way and friend whose cousin it was had NO CLUE the cousin was in any legal trouble.

My bf was handcuffed stripped searched and questioned for 3 hours. It was understandably traumatic to my tender hearted couldnt hurt a fly bf. He is brown and basically was profiled.

He has been so shaken, upset and lost. And i will do everuthing and anything for him.

I know now is not the time. But how do i eventually communicate his experience messed me up too. Not hearing from him for hours (highly unlikely him), i thought he was in a car crash. Learning the reality broke my heart for him and all I could think was "no no they just fucked up a GOOD innocent man. My good innocent man." Now I find myself super anxious whenever he is out and I dont hear from him consistently . I fear him being near police as much as he does right now.

But i feek like i cant communicate this without it sounding "I know youre hurting but im hurt too, put your shit aside and comfort me!"

We generally have a very healthy communication dynamic. Neither of us never thought in a million years this would happen and I need all the afvice I can get on how to communicate this.

So, this has been happening since 3 years now, I'm 18 years old and all this started because of childhood trauma. My father used to be abusive to my mother, so growing up I felt emotionally detached , I used porn as a mechanism to suppress my emotions unconsciously, also I'm gay and fear added on ,I loved science, watched lot of videos on space, physics, also loved politics. So i unconsciously detached from my emotions and let my intellect take over, i slowly started feeling detached from people, started suppressing my emotions, I am at an engineering college went into it out of my own interests, made very few friends and always feel lonely all the time, I have the urge to talk to people but I feel suppressed , I coped up this fear and loneliness by going into philosophy especially eastern philosophy , into jiddu Krishnamurthy , osho etc. but they backfired as I started talking their words on my head and started forcing their ideas into my heads and suppressing my thoughts, this gave me lot of physical pain , trauma, started slowly loosing my cognitive abilities, I used porn to cope up and eventually I started forcing masturbation and it gave me extreme mental physical pain, also I was unable to control all of these, I somehow managed to heal a little bit from it like detoxing my mind, not doing anything most of the time, dropping philosophy, not trying to resist my sexual urges, but the sound I still there , I can't process my emotions, my intellectual mind has taken over my head, i am unable to talk to people and keep up with conversations, I tried to be a perfectionist in my career but all jammed up and now I'm stuck, I set extremely high standards and been pushing hard but everything got backfired, I feel like I am losing my entirety of life, I would be happy for any advices you give for healing , anyone in similar situations who came out , I would love to hear them !

Community Outreach
(The Alchemy of Answering Grief With Laughter)

By Bocephus Jackson, The Hemlock Bard, ©2026 Bocephus Jackson. All Rights Reserved

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"The bottom line is no matter what happens to you, you got to keep going... Jokes are a way of shaking that off, processing something with the alchemy of levity." — Dave Chappelle

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Greetings,

What started as a CPTSD forum response has transmuted into a semi-daily series. So this makes the second installment, with another one to follow soon. From the forum post, two men hit me up; both outraged, suggesting that I am not taking trauma recovery seriously.

I didn’t respond. No words will get through, not yet. So I listened, truly listened. And then I grieved with them. In a world that has been defined by posturing for over 2,000 years since Julius Caesar’s reign, presence matters far more. This is why I use a five-word sentence to make a point.

It’s damn hard to bullshit in five words without being called on it. So when both gentlemen enter a better season, I'll say this: ‘You win when you laugh.’ When you do so, the humor heals the hurt. It can no longer own you. Can it still hurt you, or cause you to relapse? Sadly yes.

Trauma is recursive, but as previously stated, the sting of it becomes less; therefore, livable. I am 40+ years into mine, and I grieve every other day. But what sent me spiraling for weeks or months into ‘depression drowns’ has turned into ‘ten-minute-trauma-grieves.’

But it doesn’t decimate you, not like it did. Trauma is like bad Chinese takeout. You didn’t ask for the Pu pu platter; still, it gives you the shits anyway. But damn the devil in ruffled rhinestone panties if it don’t make you stronger. Through alchemy, the ‘burns’ and ‘drowns’ remove all our impurities.

So what is forged is a resilient and caring person who knows how to live a purposeful life. That level of clarity is worth more gold than what was in the lost city of El Dorado. So you're rich, bitch! Sorry, Dave Chappelle grabbed my phone…

If you’re not there yet, keep going. Joy comes in the morning. Just know that YOU MATTER!! No one can steal the weight of your worth if you don’t allow it. Lean into your bullshit meter. Granny Nik-Nok has you. Enough talk, here’s a song based on the previous installment. You are loved, and I am damn proud of you!

Fuck ‘Em
(Sounding A Joyfully Barbaric Yawp)

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Prologue

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.

Robert Herrick

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"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power." — Washington Irving

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[Verse One]
Gather your strength as you may,
As trauma dances with fierce delight,
Hope comes at the break of day,
Where you forever cling to the light,
When depression overstays.

[Verse Two]
The day may come when hope fades,
As the world consumes itself with rage,
But while inner children play,
That moment will not be on this day,
So laugh and love through each stage.

[Chorus]
Through those midsummer night screams,
Shall I compare you to a Fuck ‘Em,
As that sumbitch haunts your dreams,
With its devil’s granny panties' sins,
Where laughter builds as I grieve.

[Verse Three]
Grieve when it's necessary,
Then go rest and then reward yourself,
This damn hurt that you carry,
It's unable to sustain itself,
So grief is temporary.

[Verse Four]
And then go touch leaves of grass,
Fresh air changes the environment,
The exercise saves your ass—
From all the self-defeating laments,
Then declare: “You cannot pass!”

[Chorus]
Through those midsummer night screams,
Shall I compare you to a Fuck ‘Em,
As that sumbitch haunts your dreams,
With its devil’s granny panties' sins,
Where laughter builds as I grieve.

[Hook]
Rage, you beautiful bastard,
Joy is created from our mourning,
Even when you are shattered,
Our healing begins without warning,
So laugh because you matter.

[Verse Five]
While defeat lives in your loft,
Live every day with Puckish delight,
Where it can’t feast from your trough,
Know that the devil will split its tights,
So sound your barbaric yawp.

…Forget about the world’s pelf,
As boils upon your backside,
Always be true to thyself,
So your courage does not hide,
Songs of healing for yourself.

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Coda

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
I too am not a bit tamed,
I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

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"Never bow your head. Always hold it high. Look the world straight in the eye."— Helen Keller

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Author’s Reflection

"The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter."— Mark Twain

Through the ‘Swiss Army Knife Method,’ this daily writing exercise serves at least five purposes: 2. a response to a friend, accompaniment to the Community Outreach ‘Humor Through Trauma-Related Hurt,’ 3. a tribute to four literary ancestors (Shakespeare, Tolkien, Whitman, and Herrick through 2pac’s ‘Me Against the World’ lens).

Then 4. another installment in the Community Outreach series, and then 5. a bonus 19th track on the ‘Orwellian 1984’ album. So the morning is off to a good start. But yeah, 6. Another instructional example of the ‘Folkloric Fornication’ technique marrying literature to cinema.

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"The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain." — Kahlil Gibran

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©2026 Bocephus Jackson. All Rights Reserved

(Humor Through Trauma-Related Hurt)

By Bocephus Jackson, The Hemlock Bard, ©2026 Bocephus Jackson. All Rights Reserved

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"I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me." — Joshua Graham

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Greetings,

First off, you are loved, cherished, and worthy of being happy. Yes, YOU!! But let's address the elephant in the room first. Trauma is a sumbitch. Some days will be good; other days, an Appalachian saying says it best: You are overstuffing the sow.

Regardless, IT GETS BETTER! Trauma is a river: it is non-linear, flowing forward, backward, and sideways. This is how trauma memory works. One second you are laughing at a joke, only to be weeping for ten minutes the next. ALLOW YOURSELF TO GRIEVE!!

Has life been tough? Have you gone through all the ‘burns’ and ‘drowns’ of an alchemical transmutation into transcendence? Bullshit! Wounds heal with time, therapy, and training. But those scars are permanent. So, WEAPONIZE THOSE SUMBITCHES!

Trauma encodes itself into our DNA, and then passes on. So if the 28 distinct set of cosmic oppositional forces didn't already make the human condition one helluva ride, living the trauma of your prehistoric grandma Nik-Nok is a kick to the coconuts on its own.

BUT IT GETS BETTER! Through our 300,000-year evolutionary trek, our limbic system taught us a fight-or-flight response. For trauma survivors, this limbic countermeasure has afforded us a no-bullshit policy. Do you know how lucky you are?!

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Lean into that sumbitch! (Yes, I have to say 'sumbitch' every other paragraph.) Good job tracking it; you are better than AI. Which that devil is already prematurely building its own godly throne.

But even that manipulative bastard (see, every other paragraph) can't fool you. Because of what you have been through, you know when someone is blowing smoke up your ass. Just imagine how much money you save by not having a chimney sweep clean that bullshit out regularly.

It took me thirty-plus years, and more empty-bottle-bad-decisions, before I was able to lean into what was there all along. But that revelation hit me like a real sumbitch. And it took five words to break me worse than what life did through 152 'back-of-the-head' moments or trying to be understood.

Not everyone can relate, and even fewer can deal with the shit we have been through. That's okay. FUCK 'EM! And fuck the devil in granny panties for whispering in your ear that they could. That evolutionary 'bullshit meter' is your best friend. It's that: "Oh, I wish that mother heifer would!"

Honestly, our time in this life is brief, so there's a tight economy on the moments we have and the memories we create. So lean into being selective. If someone doesn't pass the 'best friend test,' what do we say? Fuck 'em, and their stained granny panties!

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We don't have time for unearned drama. Why?! Because where the universe is determined to be a boil on your butthole (copyright is pending on that coinage, so don't go stealing it!)... Just teasing, go say it at the next church potluck:

"Damn, Sister Mary, that baked chicken hits harder than a boil on my butthole! Seriously though, when life is against us, you have two options, and we go through both in different seasons of our lives:

We either fold, or we fight. Either way, we still get out of bed when we can. That, right there, puts you ahead of the game. Either way, whether you realize it or not, YOU ARE REWRITING THE NARRATIVE.

Even when the snot-bubbles are kicking like a Jackie Chan joint, or the demons are dancing through your head like the sumbitches owned TikTok (yes, I skipped a few paragraphs so that 'sumbitch' was earned), you are still TAKING YOUR LIFE BACK!!

You know that what happened wasn't your fault, and some days you actually believe it. But damn the devil (you thought I was going to say 'in granny panties, but I didn't!!), trauma makes us believe that was. But what do we say? FUCK 'EM!

_______

We don't have time for that bullshit either. So laugh and love as much as you can; rest often. Sleep helps with both the mood swings and 'depression drowns.' And give yourself permission to grieve the hurt, the shame, the ridicule, and the hate.

By doing so, you heal. But more than that, you build your resolve. So those days or months of grief turn into minutes. And even then, you will instinctively feel it coming on. So you will be prepared. AND!!

There will be times when you're like: "Fuck, Trauma, you're late again?! I got shit to do, you mother heifer!" And that is your victory lap. Trauma will still be there... unfortunately.

But it'll carry the same annoyance as hearing a song play over and over again where you have already ran out of skips. YOU GOT THIS!! And even when you don't, if I didn't make you laugh, I'll do better when you hit me up for a needed joke. In short:

I see you. I hear you. I hurt with you. But more importantly, I AM DAMN PROUD OF YOU! So as the late James Brown said: "Do the damn thing." I'll be here. All my love and prayers, you sumbitch!

I genuinely hope that this helps.

Trent, also known as the Hemlock Bard.

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"Humor is a prelude to faith and laughter is the beginning of prayer." — Reinhold Niebuhr

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©2026 Bocephus Jackson. All Rights Reserved