Feeling Safe To Feel the Pain
While waiting for the safety necessary for my brain to be ready to process them, my body has held these secrets, memories, and pain.
Topic: abuse
While waiting for the safety necessary for my brain to be ready to process them, my body has held these secrets, memories, and pain.
My fight or flight response has been active for so long that stillness often feels agonizing.
I’ve never liked the word “victim.” I’ve also never liked the word “survivor” for that matter. But I’m both.
I refuse to allow the same toxic cycle of verbal and emotional abuse to continue with the potential to last for generations.
It’s discouraging, being almost better but not quite there.
I’m trying to create a new reality—one where happiness exists, one where I can erase the false narratives and write stories that are true.
You don’t have to survive and endure pain to be strong. Sometimes being strong means freeing yourself of it.
The NFL was knocking on the door, and I was becoming the patriarch of my family. I didn’t have time to deal with all the baggage I was carrying on my shoulders. Instead, I shoved my emotions down and repressed how I was feeling because that’s what men did, right?
I never felt anger over her decision. From my own diagnosis of PTSD, I knew that much of what she did wasn’t her fault or entirely in her control.
Tomorrow you will do it all again. I know that’s scary to hear, especially since today you contemplated handing it in, crashing the car, putting a stop to it all. But keep going.
I was emotionally and verbally abused for the first 16 years of my life or so by my father. That’s a hard thing for me to type. It’s an even harder thing for me to say out loud. My instinct is to clarify that I still had a good childhood by most accounts.
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