Posts Tagged ‘nightmares’


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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?


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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.

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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.

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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.


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I understand the need for tough love.

Moreso, i understand the need for tender love… and the sensitivity and big picture quality that comes with it. the understanding that each staircase starts with just one step, that each path is traveled one step at a time. Baby steps, large steps, leaps and bounds… it doesn’t matter as long as there is forward momentum.

Whether you have a map, or a plan or are just winging it. it doesn’t matter. each  journey of 1000 miles can be taken a 1000 different ways, but the end goal is always clear.

and some people have a lot more traveling to do because they have to sit and rest or reexamine their life or their goals. some people become afraid of the dark fairy tale forest and back up a few steps.

I have gone on a tangent there, but the main thing is that i have a friend who tends to shower me with tough love. usually when i am drunk. he thinks it’s just as easy as flipping a switch… um. life isn’t a teleporter. you can’t just wish to be fixed, or better by clicking on the switch, or turn it off when you are tired of feeling. granted, alcohol does help with that last part.

it’s a journey …. and if all you care about is the end result, and seeing that your friends or family are not there yet, despite disabilities, resting, emotional walls…. ptsd, what have you, then you aren’t caring as much as you think you are. you’re trying to control them.

i believe you can give tough love encouragement without breaking people down. without causing them to withdraw even deeper because all they feel is that they aren’t good enough, no matter what they do.

in all, i suppose i am not a tough love kind of girl. not necessarily, anyway. i want people to see that i am working on it, that i am trying my best for my circumstances and past, and i want to be able to see the struggle of others. i want to know that they aren’t just letting themselves sink. i want to give them that life vest, even if they genuinely do want to die; metaphorically or literally.

i want to control my surroundings and my healing/wellness, but i don’t want to control others, or the way that they heal and recover. it’s not a 12 step program.

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Therapy today went well. I used to have a standing appointment on wednesdays, because i liked the predictability of it. Nowadays, I take what I can get- i hide from therapy, and only make an appointment when i really feel the need-

For example- how you know whose face and voice just shows up in my head whenever he wants. compelling me to be aroused and/or touch myself. wanna talk about sick? that’s sick. (not as sick as him, surely). she told me that was incredibly normal, because at that stage in my life, i was becoming naturally sexually curious (as well as the curious of a probably already sexually abused girl) so i was, biologically, turned on.

like a long-acting, long-release poison pill. it got inside my brain and my body and twisted me up.  it made me so fearful of the idea of children that the guy and i tried for about two months, then quit. (you might have followed the “i might be pregnant” dilemma). i want them, but i don’t want them to suffer. and to be in this life is to suffer, horribly.granted, i am speaking from a malnourished perspective. i just think about all the predators that are undoubtedly out there, and no matter how well i try to prepare my kids, it can still happen to them. they can get raped, kidnapped, killed…. that’s not just ‘criminal minds’ talking. that’s reality. not to mention that i don’t want to be that mom who turns into super overprotective bitch mode when she sees her daughter hugging a man she likes/loves. platonically. fatherly.

the one who starts blaming the child for her very natural behavior. “Get away from him you little slut!” accusing that she is leading him on.

i don’t want to be that, but i desperately want to protect her. i don’t know how to do that; i didn’t ask to be born into this life, and he/she won’t have either.

it’s little consolation to know that her life would be better than mine, because it feels the risks are too risky.

on another note, as dr b is prone to do, i was more validated today. not that the guy doesn’t validate me, but let’s face it, he’s a bit of a smart ass and sometimes it’s hard to tell if he is joking or not.

dr b told me that something in me, in my life and childhood, made me decide that i wanted to fight. to be a survivor, and to make sure i was not the cause of anybody else’s pain; at least the kind of pain i suffered. I’m usually quick to apologize if i am being bitchy or if i play-slap too hard. i try not to condescend, but i know we are all guilty of that. i try not to use people, or abuse their presence in my life.

she even said how when i first started coming to see her, she was amazed at how much of a “phenomenon” i was. because of my background, statistically speaking, i should have ended up in a gutter. Drugs, alcohol, rape, prostitution…. killing.

and that, apparently, really surprised her. that’s kinda my shining moment of the day.

last thing….

i have been noticing, that there seems to be a bit of a trend on facebook to only validate and appreciate positive things in a person’s life/statuses.

everybody wants to support my losing weight, or lowering my blood sugar, but who is there when i am throwing up randomly at 5am? (other than bf). nobody. nobody even told me they hoped i feel better, or asked what was wrong (not that i knew).

so what’s the deal with that?

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