Posts Tagged ‘emotional scar’


Read Full Post »

It’s easier to say something so tongue twisty and complicated than to say what it actually is.

Hysterical pregnancy.


It’s apparently rare, and experienced mostly by women who have been sexually abused, who suffer psychological issues and, of course, those feeling the pressure of Father Time bearing down on their wombs.



It’s a lonely and confusing time. For months, even years, this can be experienced. And this is my second one. Both times I was absolutely sure I was pregnant even though I was getting negative pregnancy tests. Hpt and hcg.

You worry with excitement. Absolutely positive you’re pregnant because you can’t stand the smell of raw meat, or you suddenly don’t want to eat anything but oranges and oven roasted vegetables or chicken with only salt and pepper. Nausea all day long. Napping at least once a day. Tired, peeing all the time, feeling and seeing signs of implantation.


It’s all there. And it’s all real.

But because other people don’t understand it, you suffer alone. The doctors are assholes about it, even if they do the exams or tests you ask.

The berate you and write you off, immediately sizing you up on a glance.

Fine. If I’m not pregnant, help me figure out why I think I am.


A conversation for the therapist no doubt. I like my new one just ok- she’s no dr.b

I just hate feeling crazy when something is so obviously happening. Even the bf had noticed I was off.

I don’t know. I guess from now on, until I’m pregnant the way society thinks I should be, I should keep my mouth shut.



Read Full Post »

bf and i have been sort of discussing having children. we both agree that it might not be the best idea, given that i am on disability and that said disability may impede my abilities as a caregiver. (we still want them though)

no doubt that he would make a great father (though i admit i would prolly always be the bad guy!), and it’s not against him.

but i have problems thinking about bringing children into this world- not just because it’s a horrible, everything-phobic, terrorist driven world, but because i have seen some of the monsters first hand. i have been ‘treated’ to the worst the world can offer.

when we are children, our world is small, but it is our world nonetheless. we know very little of the grand scheme of things, so we don’t know what else to believe and cannot see what good might come of it. if we see bad, that is all we see, and vice versa.

i know that i don’t want my child to come to any of the same harms i did, and god/dess knows i never want them (or anyone) to suffer. I know that things can be unpredictable, especially in an increasingly police-like state. people who don’t even know you can ruin your life just as much as your close friends or next door neighbors.

not only do i not want them to suffer, i don’t want to suffer anymore either. i don’t want my child taken away because somebody felt my spanking was abuse, when i know goddamned well that a spanking isn’t even close. abuse is when you are huddled in fear. abuse is when you scream and cry and nobody fucking hears you, or gives a damn. when nobody tries to help you. a spanking is a mere punishment for a wrong doing. you KNOW why you are being spanked.

Abuse has no rhyme or reason.

i don’t want to lose my child to death. i don’t want my child to experience homelessness or hunger.

i know that many of these things are normal thoughts and fears for anybody considering children. so what makes me so special? nothing, other than the fact that i feel like i feel it that much more powerfully.

The thoughts of these things happening have actually stymied my progress as an adult, and in the natural order of things, i just don’t want to listen to that goddamn biological clock.

i have always wanted to have kids- it was never a question in my mind. i didn’t care if i had to adopt them. babies, teens, whatever. hell, i’d even adopt an adult, if they needed it.

but the actual process is not only a trigger for my ptsd, it is also such a life-changing event. yes. i know this- it’s normal. but think of EVERY SINGLE THING you are responsible for as a parent.

oh, yes, babies and kids are fun. you get to play and watch them grow and learn (yes, i have done enough damn babysitting in my life to know this- even at the ripe old age of 8 i was fucking baby sitting, but not because i wanted to-)

but they are also fragile. they are helpless, and all of the people you normies depend on to keep your child safe? i see them as predators. i don’t want them near my babies. those who abuse are the ones closest to the child. the ones given access. and until your child can actively understand how to defend themselves, they. are. helpless.

it fills me with joy to think that i could one day grow such a magnificent, glorious being inside me… but, can’t i just keep it in there?

even Q looks like a predator- i know, logically that he would never, ever hurt them, but… in my eyes? fuck- better leave that thought unfinished. i triggered on it, the moment i tried to type it out, and froze. only when i forced the thoughts from my mind could i continue.

how can i allow myself to trust anybody but myself with this sweet, delicate child, when i know very little of the word? of what it entails?

how could anybody ever be good enough? safe enough?

i don’t want to be the kind of parent who hovers, or micromanages- i want that child to know that i love and support and will always be there for them, but how can i if i can’t even get to the pregnancy stage?

i want for their life, what i never had in mine, and i know i can provide it. i can give them safety, love and security. a part of parenting is knowing that your child will have his/her heart broken, and being able to lend a shoulder when they ache and sob.

that’s a lot different from protecting them from the people who would abuse them, and take advantage of them. from rapists and pedophiles. you know you are automatically putting them at risk, the moment you get pregnant. (no, i’m not saying abort- that’s up to each and every single couple/mother).

what i am saying is this… perhaps maybe i’m asking:

is the only, and best, way to protect your child from the horrors of the world, simply not to have them?

i started feeling like… maybe there was a way. to create a scrapbook of sorts, of lessons i had learned along the way- lessons learned the hard way.

things like cooking tips- or knowing when you should seek legal council, or talk to a cop. to never let the world get you down, and draw strength from yourself.

Lessons that maybe i had learned, but not been able to apply for whatever reason *cough ptsd/anxiety/bipolar disorder cough*.

things like, how to stay warm and soft in a tough, bitter world. how to stand up for yourself and to fight for the things you believe in. how to handle abusive situations. to walk… to run, to just get the fuck away.

to not be jaded like dear old mom.

that’s one thing i love about q- he has had his share of abuse, but he still wants kids, and wants them with me. he wants to give them a better childhood than he had, and he doesn’t want anything to stop him. he respects my thoughts and feelings on it, and is very patient with me. another reason i know he owuld be a great father. he hasn’t become jaded or broken by what happened to him.

i am doing other things, too- like i am crocheting blankets for my friends babies, as well as my future ones. i am collecting things that i can make into heirlooms, like cool eclectic rings. most important, though, is this scrapbook, which i hope they will take out and look at throughout their life.

so, in this project, i have been collecting different pictures and memes that could accurately describe the things i want to teach them, but don’t know how. things that i may never get around to teaching them. things that people never teach, or that people in my situation never learned. i have been thinking and racking my brain for these lessons, because in my childhood, you have to learn for yourself.

people are temporary in my world. you take what you can get, when you can get it and move on until you can’t move any further. once you’ve stopped, that’s it. you’ve collapsed from exhaustion and can barely wriggle and crawl to your next destination. but it’s important to keep moving.

i want to impart this ill-gotten wisdom to my child. i want them to know, and to be smart about life. i don’t want them to be afraid. not the way i am.

Life isn’t about fear- it’s about living. it’s about the joy and rapture you can extract from every goddamn moment. about the feelings you get when you fall in love and touch nature, and when nature touches you back. when you believe in something so wholly, that nothing can waver that belief.

i suppose, in all of this, the biggest lesson that i have yet to learn, is that love can be that belief in child-rearing. that my love and hope for their future, can be enough.

simply because i want to take the time to teach them all the things i never had the chance to learn. and all of the horrible lessons i did.

isn’t that what it’s about? teaching our children to be better humans than we could ever hope to be?


Read Full Post »

so fucking upset right now. angry. shaking with panic and fear and anger.

gov’t wants me to go to one of their doctors next month and tomorrow they want to call me. i do not enjoy dealing with all of this without the help of an ever ready representative. I assume that my first lawyer dealt with all of this for me, and maybe i never saw the after effects or the fallout. but when i got the paper today, and then couldn’t reach the legal aid lady, i fell full force apart.

full fledged panic attack in the shower, crying and fighting not to puke all over myself. now while still panicky, i really only have a little bit of a headache. pounding. slamming against my skull.

the fact that the pharmacy kept fucking up my meds didn’t help a goddamn thing-

it’s frustrating to the point that while my bf truly understands and feels for me, my mood transfers to him and he gets angry and upset too, and then we’re locking in a fucking circle of bad emotions.

so we fucking pull ourselves together until the next time we begin to drown.

i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i know the labels and diagnoses, and the titles they tell me. the reasons that i might be the way that i am, but it doesn’t help me to always understand it. what i see is a broken down person… somebody who can’t move past invisible barriers, who has no magick powers to take them down. no way to scale them. only to throw myself against them, time after time with the hopes that it will weaken. well guess fucking what. it never weakens, and all i do is tire myself out and cause the worst kind of judgement in others who have no idea what i am struggling with.

the infinite forces of the powers that be don’t give everybody a ladder. so fuck off and quit judging me. i hope to the heavens that these people NEVER have to deal with what i do.

but sometimes, every once in a while, i wish they fucking would. just one day. one day in my fucking head might just be enough. if not, give them all of it.

Read Full Post »

So i have to get something off my chest.

I have seen and heard plenty of people saying that we should let kids wear whatever they want. to a point, i agree. and when they reach about 16-18, fine. that’s usually when kids start to … grow into themselves.

but don’t you fucking DARE tell me that i am sexualizing a child when i say they shouldn’t dress like miniature hooker/strippers.

what i am doing, and what i am sure that most others who have been abused are doing, is protecting those children. because while it is fine to dress them like little people, don’t make them an even bigger target for those who would prey on them. No, i am not blaming the child. it is not my fault i was abused, it was not your fault you were… it was nobody’s fault except the abuser’s… unless of course there were others who were allowing it to happen instead of stopping it.

there was a debate earlier on a friend’s facebook post about how kids shouldn’t dress so provocatively, in comicons, cosplays, halloween or in everyday life…. i totally agree with her.

there are ways to do things and dress tastefully while still getting the same point across. no matter what age they are.

my point is this… me wanting to protect the children of the world does not mean i am sexualizing them, and it certainly doesn’t mean i want to do horrible, life-lasting things to them.

It means i want to make them less of a target. Yes… teach consent. By all fucking means, teach men, women and children that no means no and that when you are invading somebody’s personal space without their permission that you are doing wrong.

But also teach children to be tasteful. teach them self-defense. teach them courage and bravery and respect.

over all, you can teach them to be themselves without being half (or more) naked.

Read Full Post »

when things ‘go well’, we have very little to bitch about. that doesn’t mean that shit doesn’t happen, just usually means the shit is small in proportion to the usual.

so last week i got a letter saying that they are trying to cut off benefits, because they feel i am no longer disabled. really? says who? it’s not as though i’d seen any of THEIR doctors. plus, in january of this year is when they told me i was up for review… so… what? four months ago? anyway.


i can’t use the lawyer i originally used cause he wouldn’t get a cut of it. ok, fine. pointed me to legal aid. great.

they think i have a good chance of continuing. but it’s still bs. i don’t feel like if i was physically impaired that i would have to fight it as hard.

feels like they are saying that just because mine is mental, that it will go away. sometimes, it does. but you know, it’s a lifelong fucking struggle, and doctors have told me so ever since the beginning. why should i constantly have to prove it?

anyway… i have also recently gotten the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder, you know. to make things bettter.

at any rate, i had a two hour panic attack when i got the letter, and it wasn’t even until a few days after that i thought (thanks to the bf asking/reminding) that it might have happened a few years ago too. and if so, obviously i got through it fine.

i sent off the appeal within the first ten days so that i could continue receiving benefits until the legal proceedings took place. i still am shook up about it, but i feel better, too. I have an appointment with the legal aid lady thursday and then tomorrow i am going to get notes/records from GP and dr. B, as well as a well-needed session.

onto part number two (other than the regular anxiety and insomnia) i have been going rapidly crazy. it varies from day to day , but some days i get sudden low moments, sagging from… the world, i suppose.

but the other day, i burst into tears and craziness when the bf suggested that we get an apartment off of the hotel campus.

what i heard him say, and what he said that he said are two vastly different things.

I had heard “We need to get you to that low income apartment place to get somewhere else to go”

what he said he said “we need to get an apartment at that low income place so that we have somewhere else to go”

it didn’t help that i was still somewhat hungover, and had not yet taken my meds… or that i immediately froze and started thinking the worst. when the worst continuously happens, you get used to it, because there is no “best possible scenario”.

the last time somebody told me about having to move out to find somewhere else to go, a ten year relationship ended, because even though i was ‘making myself as small as possible’, he needed room to think about our future. which didn’t work anyway. once i had moved out, he was done with me. he never called or texted or visited.

before that was the bitchies, and being abused consistently and being abandoned and neglected…

so yes. i see the worst.

eventually, after crying my eyes out and stiffening myself up i left. i just up and left.

i didn’t know what to do… i was thinking about running. bolting.

but i don’t run. i feel like it, i want to… i might even start off doing so. but i always come back. because i am not mys sister. i am not my mother.

and even though it’s shit and it’s difficult, i could never just leave.

but, the bf came after me, and took a while to find me because i suppose i wanted to stay hidden. i had to think. i didn’t know what was happening, i didn’t know why i was crying or sad, and i had to clear my brain.

it was at the time he found me that i had figured it out.

he assured me it was not because he wanted to leave me, or because we were through. because that was why he put the ring on it. cause he liked it.

the thing is, i suppose… is that the ex couldn’t handle my shit. he didn’t want to. he saw me as a burden. and he became resentful (for more than one reason).

the bf now is more where i come from, so he understands it. he knows the mentality and has seen the breakdowns and is strong enough to help me through it, when i feel like both my legs are broken.




Read Full Post »

I started a secret group with some friends on facebook to help and support anybody suffering from mental illnesses (of course it’s open to caregivers and other supporters), but as the days have gone on, I have realized that I am more than ready to support somebody else…. as long as i don’t have to tell my own story at the same time.


it seems like a slightly hypocritical thing to do. Granted, i do not expect them to tell their stories, or even their diagnoses … EVER, if they don’t want to or feel like it… but… as the ‘leader’ it seems that i should be able to let go and tell all. But i can’t. i have a feeling of dread and nausea when i think about it. Though this group is intended to keep us from those who might judge us, i still feel that i might be judged. that people might say “why did you ‘let’ these things happen to you” …. i mean, truly, after a certain amount of time, there is very little fight left. because when you fight back, things get worse. it’s easier to let things happen as they are.


What is it they say? it’s easier to raise a healthy child than to help a damaged adult? something like that? well that’s me.

The fucking universe i had around me as a child was much too fragile and happened so harsh and so quickly that i didn’t know what i could do to change it. I protected my little brother the best that i could… and to a point myself. but there comes a time when survival kicks in and you become like an abused dog. you stay because you have nowhere else to go. you don’t know who to go to for help. or how to help yourself… so you… stay.

i would also like to add that raising a healthy child only goes so far…. so long as you have singular guardianship (i mean when you aren’t hordes and hordes of foster parents and three failed adoptions- i mean one singular set (or even a single parent)). Because foster families in themselves are temporary. but different things happen in different places. sometimes they are good, sometimes they are bad. sometimes they abuse you, sometimes they don’t. mixed messages gets nobody anywhere. Fast.


i have been having nightmares and insomnia a lot lately, and worry i might have undiagnosed bipolar or borderline personality disorders. i have no motivation for any thing and all of my creations have come to a standstill as i sit  around and watch the hours tick painfully by.

i have had thoughts of self injury and mutilation (not necessarily suicide, and no plans of it)… self harm releases endorphins which makes us feel better. but it is extremely harmful in the long run. it’s not healthy. just like running to alcohol or drugs (mary jane, aside). And it is HARD to battled the demons without those crutches… without that ARMOR.

i figure eventually i will get better…. but i know i will never be completely fixed.


Read Full Post »

Older Posts »