“You lived through that, you will live through this too”

Yes, but how many things do I have to live through? How many times do I have to be grateful I made it out alive? When do I get to stop surviving and start thriving?

Amity Blight and Her Broken Strings

So, on Twitter, I saw someone say something about Amity and Hunter's relationship (obviously platonic. People who ship them romantically are gross.)

Naturally, I agree with this, as you've seen in my fics Kindness and Forgiveness as well as Road Trip. I feel like they share a best friend/basically sibling sentiment towards each other, and that Amity wouldn't bare ill will towards Hunter having been through the same things he has... HOWEVER, this also brought me to another thought, and it begs a question... Why was Amity, out of all of Hexsquad, able to move when she was turned into a puppet?

Simply really, she was already someone's puppet before and she broke free of their control...

Much like Hunter was because of Belos, Amity was being used, lied to, manipulated and controlled by Odalia. And think about how awful Odalia was to her. Forcing her to break her friendship with Willow, threatening to expel her friends from Hexside, coming between her and her girlfriend. Using her to test weapons and humiliating her publicly. And all so Odalia could have a 'perfect little girl' who was just like her. Amity never understood that things could be different, that she could choose her own destiny. In the care of her mother, she was little more than a puppet...

And of course, we know that Amity's friends helped her realize that. Especially one who kinda became a little more than a friend...

And of course, her understanding and realizing that her dream and goal being that she "wanted to choose her path herself" was what awakened Ghost and gave her a staff. Being able to control your own life, as a victim of child abuse, is so important, especially when you've gone through as much as Amity and especially Hunter. And that's why I think she was able to move on her own, because she is no one's puppet, not anymore. Amity Blight broke free of her chains and she is never, EVER, going to be shackled and puppeted again...

i hope things get better for us all. i hope the coming fall and winter are kinder than the summer. i hope. i hope because i have to, and so do you. if you're still alive, there is still hope inside you. waiting for you. it's there. grab it and hold on for the ride, however rough it gets. you have to survive. we all do. we can't let them kill us - not without a fight, not without consequence. disabled people are not disposable, and it's not our fault other people think we are. something has to change. we fucking deserve better than this.

Gentle reminder;

It is okay if all you did today was survive. That is actually the bravest thing you can do🍀

You are staying alive, even when your mind is screaming at you to go and your entire head is filled to the brim with very dark thoughts/ideations💫

You are still here, even though you are in a great deal of pain…THAT is bravery and I truly hope things get better for you soon🍀

Nobody deserves to go through so much pain.💫

The abuse you went through and the consequent trauma is not a way for the universe to punish you for anything you did previously. It is not because you have made mistakes, or because you committed a sin, it is not karma. You did not "have this coming your way". Please don't try to rationalize the abuse you went through by finding reasons to blame yourself. The perpetrator of the abuse was the one at fault.

The First Step is Always the Hardest

It's hard to imagine just one day out of your entire existence where you aren't plagued by memories of the past. Not a single day passes where I don't play back memories of my past, happy and sad, but still devastating nonetheless. I wake up every morning in my own bedroom. You would think that this would be a safe space void of memories. But every single atom in that room has a memory attached to it; the bed I was assaulted in more times than I can remember and I didn't even realise, the makeup stand that housed his products and aftershaves, the clothes rack that held his t-shirts and hoodies that I begged for, the photo frames that I ripped down after we split up, and wanted to burn once I realised he had assaulted me. Every part of my bedroom contains memories of him that will never go away. Somedays, I wish that those memories would just disappear, it would make the healing process much easier in theory, wouldn't it? However, I know if I had no memories of the years of pain he subjected then I would have no answers for the life long trauma he has left me with. 

We were in a relationship for almost 2 years, he was my first everything: my first serious boyfriend, my first kiss, my first time. I was a virgin when we met, I'd never kissed a boy before, never even held a boys hand before. So when we met I was so excited because he genuinely seemed interested in me. At first it was amazing, we talked all day everyday, he complimented me everyday, told me how proud he was of me for all my successes and failures, he cycled an hour just so we could meet in-person for the first time. But I still missed the early signs. Even early on in our relationship, before we were even officially together, he would bring up sex constantly, to the point it was a daily conversation. Don't get me wrong, I understand sex is normal and comes hand in hand with most relationships, but I was a virgin and I was terrified of the idea of sex. When we were organising to meet for the first time, he kept bringing up running off somewhere into the woods near where I lived; it was a very dense area of forest and only dog walkers really went in as there was nothing but trees. Every day he would bring up running into the woods and having sex, whether that was against a tree or lay on the ground or sat in his lap. And every day I would have to explain that I didn't want to do that yet as I wasn't ready; this was embarrassing enough that I had to tell my soon to be boyfriend that I didn't want to have sex with him, and even more embarrassing when he would disappear for hours at a time because he was upset with me over it. But this wasn't the end.

Sex became a daily conversation, paragraphs sent to me telling me what he would do when we had sex (on the rare occasions when we did have consensual sex he never lived up to those fantasies), asking for nudes repeatedly even when I told him I was busy or wasn't feeling great. Then about a month into our official relationship, we had planned a hike up into the hills near his home, it was late winter so not many people were out at this point of the year as it was so cold but it was still lockdown so we made do with what we had. About 2 hours before we were due to meet up, he told me he had bought condoms; at first I didn't make the connection and just acted confused and didn't think anything of it. Then he expanded that he had bought a picnic blanket so that we can find somewhere secluded and have sex. I was so scared. I wasn't ready. I didn't want to. But he was my boyfriend and he really liked me and wouldn't hurt me right? He just wants to show me he loves me right? He wants this. So I went on the walk. And I have never been so thankful to the pair of dog walkers who stumbled upon our secluded spot, thus ruining the secret rendezvous he had planned. The whole way home I was relieved in a way I didn't understand. I wish I had thought more about it at the time and walked away whilst I had the chance.

This continued for 2 more months, begging me for sex, saying he was in pain with 'blue balls'; from my understanding now blue balls are real but normally only happen when a man has 'held out' for a long period of time without any relief - whether that is his partner or his own hand. I didn't know this at the time; I thought he was genuinely in such pain and only having sex with me could fix it. It was a few weeks after my birthday that I lost my virginity to him. In the days prior to this, he had told me he was in pain, he was getting bored, telling me about his sex life with his ex-girlfriend, and constant conversations about it. So one day, when my house was empty, I finally agreed to have sex with him. I want to help him right? I'm his girlfriend its what I'm supposed to do right? He wants you, why are you holding out on him? I was so scared I was shaking. I had read online about losing your virginity that morning, and I was prepared for a little pain. I wasn't prepared for the agony that ensued. It felt like I was burning from the inside out, I wanted to cry and scream at the same time, I wanted him to stop and I was pressing against his chest to get him to stop moving and pushing but he kept going saying how much he was enjoying it. I don't know how long I lay there waiting for the pain to stop like the online posts said it would. It never stopped, just eased a little to become bearable. He asked me why I wasn't making any noise or enjoying it like he was. So I started to play the part, acting how he wanted me to so I could please him. The pain started to become unbearable again, so I faked an orgasm so that he would stop. That didn't work, he just kept going, so I lied and said my phone had vibrated and my family must be on their way home. He rapidly got off me, said he wanted a shower and disappeared. I lay there for a while catching my breath wondering what had happened and how I had just lost my virginity. I thought this was normal; the pain, the need to fake an orgasm in the vain hope he would stop, lying about my family coming home so he would get off me. All I could think was, no that's not how it went! Stop thinking like that! He loves you and you helped his pain and, remember, he loves you. He was enjoying it so much that's why he didn't stop. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. At the time, all I could think was, 'is this really what love is?'. I didn't know any different.

I didn't know what coercive rape meant until 9 months ago. And now I know what it means, I know I am not a victim. I hate the word victim - I am a survivor, not a victim. The word victim doesn't fit with me because it conflicts with my thoughts. I consented didn't I? Yes he begged and begged and wouldn't stop talking about it? NO. Consent is not valid if you have to be begged to agree. Consent is valid when you WANT to continue from the second the conversation starts and can be withdrawn at any moment. It isn't an 'I don't know' or 'I'm not sure', it's not a 'you'll change your mind when you see how good it is'. No means no. My no meant no. Your no meant no.  But I let mine become a false yes because of his desperation to have sex, and I regret that to this day because it has left me with so many mental and physical scars that I'm scared to let anyone see. But it was not my fault. It was not your fault. It is not anyones fault but his. 

So I am sharing my story with you, in the hopes that not only will I start to heal, but to also show you that you are not alone. This is only a small part of my story, an introduction you might say. But I am determined to share my story to those who will listen; the more I stay quiet, the more we stay quiet, the more power they gain. I will not let them have anymore power over me. Over us.

I am taking back control of my life. 

This is my first step. 

And I hope to bring you along for the journey.

- April Green, Becoming A Wildflower

A mom that says baby! and hugs you when you come out. A dad that tries to protect you and holds you when you sob from heartbreak. A mom that recognizes your Trans attraction before you do and is thrilled. A sibling that haunts you to make sure they know what's up in your life so they can hold you up when you need it. Family that sees you and supports you.

Just can't seem to stop crying.

Happy birthday!!! Idk if your birthday is difficult for you in any way, but I hope you feel some joy about the fact that you've made it this far. Hopefully you did something fun for it!!

Your blog has been an amazing resource for me. I've never been physically or sexually abused- just a nice variety of neglect and social isolation :D And because neglect is not as well recognized as other forms of abuse, it was difficult for me to reconcile that my parents are abusive, but your blog helped me realize that I am, indeed traumatized. Some of your posts resonate with me so much. They make me realize I'm not alone, dramatic, or crazy. That my pain is real, and all that.

Seeing someone else struggle and work through trauma similar to your own is important for healing, I think. You've shown me that it's possible, though painful, to heal and make something of yourself. The trauma will never "go away", and we'll never be "normal" (whatever that is), but it doesn't have to be end of us.

Thank you for sharing so much of yourself. You've helped countless people by spilling your guys, and writing amazing posts.

I always go into holidays and birthdays optimistically, like 'oh I'll be fine, years have passed and surely the trauma wore off' then act surprised when I suddenly get attacks and meltdowns. Who could have predicted this. Not me.

My recovery period does get shorter though, and that's all it matters, seeing progress.

Thank you for all of the kind words you've said to me in your ask, I do want to point out that neglect and social isolation can be absolutely devastating to a child, as attention, interaction, caring touch and social acceptance is absolutely vital for growing up healthy, and missing out on all that makes a very disadvantaged, traumatized person. I didn't realize it either, just how bad neglect it, before reading Complex PTSD from Pete Walker, where it's pointed out and explained in detail, that just the absence of neglect and receiving care can stop someone from developing ptsd altogether after experiencing trauma. It also points out that victims of abuse and neglect will often go and choose abuse rather than suffer neglect, they will want interaction even if that interaction is filled with pain and hatred. That's how bad neglect and isolation are. We are likely to choose to be actively hurt than to be abandoned, alone, without a connection in the world.

Last thing I need to point out is that you already are someone. Just by the fact of existing, you already are someone in this world. It can be very difficult to see it, isolated and with no clear place in current society, but we're all someone even if we don't do anything about it, we don't have to 'make' ourselves, just figure out what fulfills us and go after that. I know abusive parents like to act like this isn't true and they go telling children 'you'll never make anything out of yourself', like that's even a possibility. We're all someone by default. Our choices lie in whether we managed to go and also be happy as ourselves. We don't need to prove that we're something, to anyone.

I agree with everything else you say, even if trauma persists, that's not the end of us, we're still people, and often good, kind, compassionate and capable people. We don't get to see it, because we're not put in a place where our virtues can shine, and out best traits are instead often used against us, but that doesn't change who we are.

I'm glad you can tell that your pain is real, and I'm really sorry you've been put thru all of this, and had to find the resources yourself to make sense of it all. You deserve more resources and support than this blog. Thank you for everything kind you've said to me, it really means a lot to me to read it.

Surviving vs. Thriving - how our self-care routines can differ.

Thank you, horrifying media for being a safe place to interact with horrifying things.

Thank you horrifying media for representing and reacting to horrifying things. It's nice to have company.

I love cozy. I love escapism. But sometimes horror is the most healing thing there is. I'm not running from this horror. I'm facing it. Inspecting it. We're turning each other over and getting familiar with our interactions. We're practicing. We're understanding.

There's a strange dissonance when the blood and bones same ghosts become an embrace. But it's nothing like the dissonance of media that's cocoa and rainbows when you're struggling with blood and bones and ghosts.

Horror is for the freaks and survivors who need comfort where they are.

Everytime I'm tempted to romanticize a past relationship that I know was toxic, I like to remember this phrase:

Even a little bit of cyanide spoils a good wine.

Even if a relationship had it's good parts, and there are good parts to pretty much every toxic relationship, it's not worth it to torture ourselves with the "what if's" or wonder if we could have stuck it out for the sake of the good when the relationship was killing us inside.

I cut off a lot of relationships, mostly familial, that were toxic once I reached my mid 20s, once I met my husband and realized I didn't have to take the good with the toxic, I could choose to only have the good, to only have people around who loved me and would never abuse me in one way or another.

I didn't have to take the cyanide laced wine (or cookie, whatever metaphorical treat you prefer,) I could choose a clean, fresh, healthy relationship.

It's hard especially when someone you've cut off for this reason passes away. You're tempted to not speak ill of the dead. I've been enduring this exact situation for a few years now and only now am I realizing that nothing changed in my past just because he's permanently out of my life now.

Remember that the person they were while alive was the person they chose to die as. They could have gotten help for themselves so they could drop their toxic traits or learn to control them. They could have taken a moment of self reflection to understand why someone they thought cared about them would cut them off.

They chose not to.

And that's not your problem, in life or death.