Your secret is safe with me (i dissociated mid sentence and didn’t hear a thing you said)

reblogging because i actually enjoy being alive sometimes now, and i hope someone sees this and feels even the tiniest bit of hope. it can get better.

i wish i could actually enjoy being alive instead of being so miserable and letting time pass me by

“If you really didn’t want this, you wouldn’t eat this much.” but i’m so hungry, i can’t help myself

“I don’t want to do this. I have to do this.” i know. i deserve this. if i just didn’t eat, i wouldn’t have to throw up

“Did you finish your oatmeal? Here, drink this.” but i don’t want to throw up again. please, my head is pounding and my throat is raw, please

“Did you eat your lunch today? Open your mouth, I don’t believe you.” there was chocolate cake today, i couldn’t say no, i was so hungry... i should have brought my tooth brush to school so he wouldn’t see the food in my teeth when i came home —

“You’re a fat girl. Nobody is going to love a fat girl like you.” my new family wants me to be thin and healthy, like them. he told me that sometimes it hurts to be healthy. that’s probably why there was blood running down my legs when we went biking, that’s probably why my undies are bloody, that’s probably where these bruises on my legs came from, that’s probably why my whole body hurts since moving in here

“If you do your exercises, then your breakfast can stay in your tummy.” but i don’t want to, it hurts, i’m tired, i’m hungry, please don’t make me — can i do five miles now, and the rest when i get home? if i do it now i’ll bleed through my underwear at school, but it’s ok, no one asks questions because girls are supposed to bleed down there

“Don’t sass me. Smart girls do what they’re told. They don’t talk back to their father.” but you’re not my father — i’m sorry i know i’m sorry i didn’t mean it i’m sorry please don’t hurt me i’m sorry

i will never stop being 6 years old and lonely. i will never stop being 11 years old and lonely. i will never stop being 19 years old and lonely. i will never stop

things are once again, even better than the last time i reblogged this. #itshappening #recovery

“I’m completely terrified of being like this for the rest of my life.”

— (via broken-and-recovering)

Fyodor Dostoevsky, from The Idiot

This has a rape, abortion, miscarriage, and pedophile warning

Okay, so if you live in the states, then you already know whats going down. The abortion banning. Now, onto why this has those four specific warnings. Arkansas has decided it would be a brilliant idea to let a rapist sue a victim for getting an abortion, while, presumably, he gets to go free, without a charge. In a few other states woman get the death penalty for a miscarriage. As someone who has had a miscarriage, this pisses me off so much. Even birth control is being banned. This is the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen in my almost 19 years of living. Not a lot of people I know are fighting for women’s rights and that pisses me off. So I’m going to say now, if you are against abortions, that can save a woman’s life, or a rape victim for losing her family, stop following me and block me. As I said on Facebook, actually, let me just go get that. I was and still am livid about it. Here’s the post.

If you think making abortions illegal is okay, get the fuck out of my friends list. If you think a woman should still have a child after getting raped, get the fuck off my friends list. If you think it is okay for a woman who will die before she can give birth, not to get an abortion, get the fuck out. If you think it is okay for a child to not get an abortion and not kicked out of her family, is not okay, get the fuck out. Women are not your fucking incubators. If you think you get to have a say in someone else’s life, get the fuck out. If you tell a woman what she can and cannot do, get the fuck out. If you think giving women the death penalty is okay for have a miscarriage, get the fuck out. If you think the father gets to have a say, get the fuck out. The only way a father gets a say in it is if he doesn’t leave the woman he got pregnant. If men want to have sex all the time, get a vasectomy. They’re reversible. If you have an issue with that, get the fuck out. Woman cannot get a hysectomy unless she is in her thirties and has a minimum of three children. All because of a doctor saying “what if you want children some day?” “What will your SO think about it?” If you think a cishet male should have control over a woman’s body, get the fuck out. If you have an issue with this post, get the fuck out. I don’t want to deal with your shit. I don’t want to deal with people who tell others how to live their lives. You types of people, are the bottom feeders. It doesn’t matter how much you get paid or how rich you are. You are a bottom feeder. Another person’s life does not affect yours unless they are trying to harm you or others. Not a fucking thing in their uterus. Seriously. Get out.

I’m sorry, but I’m not really sorry. Shit I even lost two people I thought were my friends, and as my mother told me, I am pro-choice. It’s more like I’m pro-stay the fuck out of others business. I will even show you the embryo they are banning at for an abortion.

Six weeks. This, I’m sorry to say it, isn’t a person. It is an embryo. They look like itty bitty shrimp to me. If you’re going to be pro-life, you need to be caring for the homeless children and children in foster homes too. You need to care about the mother’s life. I am so done with people telling women how to live their life. I’m done with people telling men how to live their life. And to be honest, this shit that’s going on is why I haven’t been as active. I am literally at my wits end with all of this bullshit going on. My fiance and I are in the same boat, he is a person of color and I know the government because it’s so fucking racist won’t listen to those of you who are a person of color and frankly, that pisses me the fuck off too. There is literally no difference from anyone. We are all made up of the same genetic material, and as someone who is a pretty hardcore atheist, I’ll say, that if there is a God, why is he or she letting this happen? This is so wrong for anything. I mean, those of you who have spoken to me, I’m usually pretty light hearted, but, this is the last straw. I’m so fucking pissed that my favorite junk food won’t make me less upset. I’ll just look at it and continue being angry about what the states have come too. Like, seriously, how much worse is this going to get? Are all the legal people of color going to get removed from the states? Are we all going to be in one large genocide? I wish Obama were still president now. He should have never have been succeeded by fucking Trump. I am so sorry that I have ranted for this long, but I am pissed.

Edit: LIFE DOESN’T BEGIN WHEN YOUR HEART DOES IT BEGINS WITH BRAIN ACTIVITY. AND IT DOESN’T END WHEN YOUR HEART STOPS. IT ENDS WHEN THERE’S NO MORE BRAIN ACTIVITY

they ask when did you lose your virginity? and every bone in my body goes into freefall.

the question sticks in my throat like a hollow knife, wipes its shoes on the doormat of my tongue like an unwanted houseguest, hangs its raincoat still dripping on my teeth. my mouth goes dry.

when did i lose my virginity? 

when i was fifteen? and the boy whose smile was all teeth bit his words into weapons, made my unwilling voice into a blunt tool to fuck into. I have no illusions about what he did when we were not talking: i was a scared thing, and he knew not to frighten me away, just to drag out the torture long enough that i learned to love it. discord voice calls are still lonely places but i do not delude myself into thinking that what he asked me coerced me forced me to do to myself was a gift to anyone but him. a child tastes sweeter when the burn is still bitter, i suppose, when the cavity he imagined filling was a mouth already dirtied with moans for him. i still have nightmares about him, wake up with a face full of teeth, feel someone else’s smile bite my lips, hands that never touched me ghosting my arms, the only weapon he left unspoken forcing its way inside.

does that count?

what about when i was eleven? i don’t remember what happened down there in the bathrooms, memories are blurred and what facts a flashback can tell. i remember the sinks, the flashing lights, the water stains in the ceiling. i remember being trapped, unable to run, so scared id stifle the air in my lungs to keep my silence and my secrets. when i see my reflection in those mirrors i see a girl with blood in her hair and too many eyes and i know that that child isn’t me. but what happened to her, i wonder. what happened? flashes of pain and fear and the angel who holds my memories speaks the word rape with confidence, though i don’t know if they know what that means. i don’t dream about it. i don’t wash my hands in the sinks in public bathrooms, either.

is this a good enough answer?

how about age six, when they followed me into the toilets to see me naked, how about age seven, when they made me strip for them to change for pe, how about age nine, when my mother wouldn’t let me shower on my own, am i broken yet, am i stolen yet, am i violated yet?

there is a form with a question: ‘have you ever experienced sexual abuse?’ i hesitate for a long moment, then tick ‘no’. i can only claim this pain in the safety of anonymity. i told my therapist i was abused and he thought it didn’t matter, told my doctor i thought i was raped, and she said she didn’t care.

when did you lose your virginity?

force a laugh. well, i haven’t yet! i suppose i’m a bit of a prude. 

aww, that’s a shame. sex is great!

-fragments pt xvi

okay to reblog

i reblogged this 9 years ago and i’m reblogging this again now because although i’m not “completely recovered” i have taken huge steps since i last posted this.

long story short, shit actually can get better. don’t give up.

“I’m completely terrified of being like this for the rest of my life.”

— (via broken-and-recovering)

I tried to be good, am I no good? Am I no good? Am I no good?

untitled, Geloy Concepcion // Seventeen Going Under, Sam Fender // untitled, traumatizeddfox // Two People, Sam Fender // The War of Vaslav Nijinsky, Frank Bidart // Hard Times, Ethel Cain // Child Wearing a Red Scarf, Eduoard Vuillard // Complex, Katie Gregson Macleod // Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers, malaak // Too Much Wine, The Handsome Family // untitled, milklump // untitled, dying-weeds // Strangers, Ethel Cain

reblog if you're a trauma blog

I need more blogs to follow and my blog is fairly new so I was just hoping to follow ppl who have dealt with traumas.. -sexual abuse -emotional abuse -physical abuse -csa/cocsa -rape

There’s honestly so many things I can’t even list them all. But yeah, pls reblog so I can check out your blogs and follow you guys! I’m here to support anyone and everyone that needs it!