Trauma Dump - Blog Posts

Um so...

I tried avoiding conflict with my mom... but that turned into avoiding my mom...

On tuesday after a very intense phone call with her and an equally intense therapy session, I decided to go no contact.

I then hung out with friends, got embarrassingly drunk, woke up with a hangover that was less debilitating than I had hoped and blocked her on all my socials.

I didn't think ti was going to hurt *me* this much. I should be happy. But I feel guilty. I feel like I gave up too soon, like if I had hung on a little longer, then everything would have been ok.

But I know that's not true. I know that she uses the fact that I still have hope to rope me back in every time. And every time I fall for it.

I know I don't miss her. I know I miss the "in between" times. I miss the way she would behave when she was making up for having hurt me; when she was trying to "earn" the forgiveness I gave her for free. I miss how she would make me feel so safe and so loved, like I was the only one with who she could really be herself, like there was no one in the world who saw me like she did.

I know that all those wo derfull feelings come at the cost of hollowing out everything that makes me "me" to make room for what she wants me to be.

I know all that.

And It still feels like I fucked up. Like I should apologize and beg for her forgiveness and pray to a god I no longer believe in that she will welcome me back into a "home" that has only ever felt as calm and as safe as the eye of a hurricane.

the briks had nearly cost one of my couins his life (thats a story for another time)

heres the story:

so we are kids, so we are dumb and given that the adults trusted us to be eachothers impuls controle we did the oposite and egged eachothe more.

our first cabin was taken down by the army after the first body, and we the rebelious little shits that we were didn't like that so we decided to rebuilt it and this time it was gonna be bigger and we were gonna paint the walls.

the first cabin was clearly made by kids, the walls where off and the seeling was just some wood pieces we could lift with our kiddie bodies while runnig from their owners. everything we had used was either stolen or 'temporarely borowed'.

we redid that but we pitched together some pocket moner to buy some decorations we liked, adding to it the money the old granies and grampas they liked to give us and we had nearly imptied the store from the village near by.

that village was a toristic hot spot given that it faced the sea, so a lot of rich people where buying property there to built summer houses. so we took the opertunity and woke up before dawn to get there before the workers to steal some of what they had left behind, just what we could cary with us without slowing us too much.

by luch we would stach our houl and go down to eat as if nothing happened. we continued like that for a good three weeks.

on the first day of the forth week of our operation, we got caught by some drunk guy who coulldn't go back home the night before. he though that we were some bandits or something so he took an ax and started running after us. we skatered like rats, runnign around and making sure that the younger ones were safe.

unfortunatedly, while a cousine of mine was trying to help his sister get over a wall, he got caught by the guy. we though him dead, even the boy no older than 7 had that resined look on his face. but then another cousine of mine had taken a shovel and hit him with it on the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

you can bet your ass that we never went near that construnction site ever again.

the ax had nicked the boy when the men fell on top of him, a good gash on his left arm. he needed 4 stiches and couldn't move his hand freely for the rest of the summer. his good now, and he likes to tell the story behind it every time someone askes about the scar.

i remebre telling the adults that we had gonne to fight the street dogs to assest out superiority and that some old man tried to help us but got the boy by accident. we got grounded for two whole years with cleaning the cows and the hen house. worst summers of my life.

but we did get our cabine, it was better made since we bribed some older cousins with helping us. we painted it red on the outside and light blue on the inside to keep the hot air out . we built a big window that was from the ground up to the oldests head and coverd with an old peice of cloth and it was well lite with electric little lenternes from ramadan and candels used for weddings.

a month letter we found the body of some middle aged man inside and some slodiers took the whole thing down. we put hot pepper inside their shoes and glue on their hats for revenge. they dared to let their guard down after ruining our hard work and darring to taste aunt nabila's fruit juice with no remors. we were such little shits

i have other childhood memories like this one, so if anyone wants i can add them here

trying to schedule around the holidays with my divorced parents. 27 dead 23 injured 1 with childhood trauma

Lol (Another vent, but no mentions of topics from my other one)

Just remembered my first panic attack/mental breakdown, lol.

I was at my friend's house (Staying the night), and my friend was downstairs in the basement watching some TV or smt (The basement was a sort of hangout spot that had a couch and TV along with some other stuff), and I was upstairs in their room on my phone.

Eventually I go on AI chat (More specifically Talkie) and swiped through some of the bots, when I eventually got to one that was like, "Man breaks into your house" or smt like that, and I decided to mess around with it as a joke, y'know, like make myself super over powered and beat him up and stuff, WELL.

I did this and all was well, I was beating him up and I think eventually I killed him (Woops 💀), and after doing so, I think I just started going into deep thought, and that's when it started...

I suddenly just felt really scared and sad at the same time, also angry, I was balling my eyes out as I kept typing out my character beating the junk out of him.

I was starting to associate some stupid ai bot with a sh*tty ∆ss boyfriend my mom had a few years back (Can't remember exactly, but I think it was after 2020), like... Holy fuck. So basically, this fucker was all nice and sh*t, so nice, kind, and a great artist! He even knew how to do tattoos! But... One night was Different.

I don't remember too much (either because it was so long ago or because my brain blocked it out), just main details and a few things my mom said.

I was staying up past my bedtime, playing video games on my phone. When at some point in the night, I heard my mom screaming, I remember her saying "I DON'T KNOW WHERE I AM" or something along those lines, and Troy trying to calm her down (Not yelling or telling her to shut up, it was kinda like an older sibling trying to get the younger one to stop crying after hitting them so they don't get in trouble) (Also Troy is the bad boyfriend) He was like "Sh, shh.. hey, calm down..." And my mom was still screaming some things I can't remember, I by this point was shaking and wrapped in my blanket, sitting up right. After hearing this keep going for a little bit longer, I decided to scream, at the top of my lungs (And I remember this part very vividly) "LET GO OF MY MOM!" And, I honestly don't know what happened, but I guess that was enough to distract Troy long enough for my mom to hit him across the face with her keys (Like the queen she is 💅) and run to my room, she swung my door open, turned the lights on then, slammed my door shut and locked it.

She told my to call the police, but I was in much of a state of shock and panic to understand what was going on, so she took my phone and called them herself. Can't remember what happened after that.

Can't remember much from that house actually... All I really remember besides the whole incident is that I would draw in my sketchbook and read in the backyard sometimes.

Anyways, thanks for reading my silly little trauma dump! I'ma go do something else now :3

What if it was years ago, and they didn't exactly try to change, but things aren't as bad as they used to be.

I still feel the pain, but she's has been too terrible recently so I would feel bad if I finally left after all this time. After being a jobless shut in due to depression and possibly autism....

You don't have to feel bad for not wanting to be around the people who hurt you.

No, "but they're your family."

No, "but you used to be friends."

No, "but you have to put up with it because they're your partner."

No.

If someone hurts you repeatedly and there is no indication of them trying to do better, you are allowed to dislike contact with them.

So many people feel guilt over not wanting to be around people that intentionally hurt them.

It's not wrong of you to want distance.

It's not wrong of you to want to be treated well.

Abuser got me an expensive gift and now I'm spiraling again...

I'm trying to leave but... If I cut contact, I'll feel guilty and everyone except one person who relates will hate me...

I think I said too much.

I was mentioning how almost everyone was secretly packing up to move out and away from my abuser and one of her cohorts.

My sibling who doesn't necessarily see her as abusive looked at me like I was crazy when I mentioned it...

I hate thism I have almost no one irl I can talk to about this shit, especially since my siblings and I were all treated differently. They even look at me like I'm crazy for pointing it out.

But most of them are in fact leaving to get away from her because she's the problem. Sure, some are leaving because they're young adults now and they need freedom, but you also have to acknowledge her behavior. Not me though. I'm stuck

It's wild how abusers will normalize things and use different language to make it sound okay.

"spanking" instead of "hitting" or "beating" unless they're threatening you. Once it's over, you got *spanked" and not "beaten."

I've known for a while that my parents were physically abusive when I was growing up, but I was afraid to call what they did "beating" until recently. I had a conversation with someone I grew up with, and that's what she called it. I was dumbfounded for a second before I stopped and thought about it. Then, I felt validated and heard.

I've gone from refusing to call what I experienced trauma to looking into finding a psychiatrist to see if I have cptsd.... (Over the course of several years unfortunately)

2006: "No. My parents aren't hitting or beating me. They're spanking me, and for good reason. :/"

2010: "I don't think you should spank kids, but what my parents are doing isn't bad. I think a pop on the hand makes more sense, but these spankings aren't abuse."

2014: "Well now I'm depressed. My parents definitely have a lot to do with it, but I don't think they were physically abusive. Definitely verbally and emotionally but I have no trauma."

2016: "it could have been so much worse, but it's all stuck in my brain and I can't get it out. It's definitely me being sensitive. That stuff doesn't cause trauma."

2019: "So it is trauma... But it wasn't that bad. I heard about little t trauma. That's what it is. I still have no right to complain."

2020: "Trauma is trauma. Why am I comparing? They messed up and I should've left by now. They were physically abusive, but still not that bad. Little t trauma still counts."

Very recently: "Nevermind. Big T trauma. It is most certainly that bad. I wouldn't have reacted that way back then if it wasn't."

Suck that it took me so long

It's so hard to not feel guilty about being upset at the people who mistreated you. Especially parents.

"But she gave me soup and stuff when I was sick. She even cried when I told her I was having dark thoughts."

Yes but she also basically told me to end myself, showed clear favoritism, frequently used corporal punishment, and a whole laundry list of other things.

It's so hard because she hasn't done too many harmful things as of recent. I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and it almost feels like I'm being overly dramatic about it now. It almost feels like maybe it was all in my head in the first place.

Then I remember that I was so desperate to get away when I was younger. Desperate enough to think about taking drastic measures. Desperate enough to dream about someone just taking me away from my family.

And then I feel guilty again five minutes later

Is "irrational" anger a trauma response?

I only feel like it might be because I'm always bothered when this person enters the room. I'm almost enraged when they try to speak to me, more often than not. I try to keep it to myself only because I know I would look utterly insane otherwise.

It's almost like I've gaslit myself into thinking I've been overly dramatic this whole time and nothing they ever did was so terrible. Then, I feel guilty for being mad at them, even though I look back in it and see how much it affected me or how badly my younger self wanted to leave and cut contact.

I almost feel like I'm losing my mind just thinking about this.