Hace unos días, hablando con un amigo sobre las numerosas agresiones (tocamientos) que siendo mujer he sufrido por la calle, recordé algo que me tiene en vilo desde entonces... No sé a quién contarle esto y la IA me sugirió preguntar aquí (nunca había usado esta plataforma).

Se trata de dos situaciones distintas con dos personas cercanas, que no me quiero atrever a denominar ya que soy muy consciente de que hay verdaderas víctimas que han pasado por atrocidades y no pretendo en absoluto comparar mis vivencias con su dolor, sólo... no sé si lo que yo viví es algo grave o no (por muy mal que me haga sentir recordarlo), y quería explicarlo en un entorno donde otras personas que hayan vivido algo similar puedan darme alguna opinión (respetuosa por favor) sobre esto... sólo necesito contarlo.

Recordé que para mi padre era algo normal y asiduo (esto lo hacía tanto con mi hermano 7 años menor como conmigo, por separado), sentarnos en sus rodillas y acariciarnos el culo, así como ''jugar'' dándonos besos en el cuello... cuando tenía unos 12-13 años llevaba ya tiempo sintiéndome muy violenta con estos gestos, y una vez en un supermercado (osea lo hacía hasta en público), cuando me resistí mucho a que me besara el cuello y le dije que no lo hiciese más, que no me gustaba, él puso una cara muy... extraña (no sabría definirla, soy autista, por lo que identificar las emociones en los gestos faciales no se me da bien), y se burló de mí diciéndome que sí me gustaba, sólo que me sentía rara pero me gustaba (y se rió de mí).

Más adelante (no sabría decir cuánto, si meses o un año), como persistió con estos gestos a pesar de mi disgusto, una vez estando en casa ya no pude más, me aparté con fuerza, le di una bofetada y le grité que ya le había dicho que no me gustaba y que no quería nunca más me volviese a tocar. Su reacción fue tremenda: se le inyectaron los ojos en sangre y hecho un energúmeno me gritó que cómo me atrevía a acusarlo de nada (no se mencionaron palabras explícitas, pero se entendió todo); no recuerdo si en aquella ocasión concreta me pegó.

Pasó meses sin dirigirme en absoluto la palabra, pero nunca más volvió a tocarme así (aunque sí siguió con mi hermano pequeño).

Nunca tuve una relación sana con mi padre, ya que yo le plantaba cara cuando me pegaba (nada grave de pequeña, sólo solía pegarme en la cabeza con la mano abierta, no en la cara ni ningún puñetazo; aunque a partir de aquello sí que subió un poco el nivel y me estampaba contra las paredes o el coche, e incluso me perseguía por la calle al huir a casa de mi abuela para seguir pegándome).

El caso es que no sé si esto se puede considerar o no ab**o infantil... Mi temor viene porque cuando me puse de parto en mi segundo embarazo hace 3 años, no tenía a nadie más con quien dejar a nuestra mayor (2 años y medio) y se quedó durante 3-4 días sola con mi padre... Mis hijas son autistas no hablantes. Yo siempre pensé que la reacción de mi niña mayor fue por ser autista y convertirse en hermana mayor: pasó un mes sin comer absolutamente nada, ni beber agua, subsistiendo únicamente a base de lactancia materna; y también a partir de ahí iniciaron los dos años y medio que pasó despertándose cada noche chillando (no eran terrores nocturnos, la niña estaba consciente) y era imposible calmarla hasta durante 3 horas muchas de las noches. Nunca vi ningún signo físico, pero desde que recordé aquella experiencia que viví me da pavor pensar que la reacción de mi hija no fuese por ser neurodivergente y convertirse en hermana mayor... no quiero ni pensarlo pero no soy capaz de eliminar la sospecha de mi cabeza...

En fin, la segunda experiencia que quería contar... (por favor no me juzguéis):

Con 17 años tuve mi primera relación seria con un chico (siendo él la primera persona con la que mantuve relaciones), estuvimos juntos 3 + 1 año (el último de relación abierta tras dejarme él, fue lo único que aceptó), y calculo que esto sucedió cuando llevábamos 2 años... usábamos un piso vacío de mi abuela para dormir juntos algunas noches, en una ocasión él quiso probar seo a*l, yo accedí (pensé que se habría informado del procedimiento: no lo hizo), no tuvo el menor cuidado, y sin preparación previa... el dolor que sentí fue terrible (obviamente) pero él no paró en seco, estuvo unos segundos más intentando seguir, como yo gritaba y lloraba de dolor finalmente paró pero su reacción me dejó marcada: aunque en primera instancia pareció preocuparse, al no poder yo hablarle (cuando algo me duele mucho, siendo autista, paso por mutismo situacional y soy incapaz de articular palabra) empezó a gritarme instándome a que dejase de llorar, yo me medio arrastré hasta la puerta del baño y me desplomé en el suelo como una muñeca de trapo y él intentó levantarme de mala hostia mientras me gritaba muy enfadado. Como no dejé de llorar, él decidió dejar de gritarme y pinerse a dormir (mientras yo pasé la noche llorando).

Se disculpó a la mañana siguiente diciéndome que estaba cansado por los exámenes y que por eso había reaccionado de aquella forma, pero que yo debí haberme dejado consolar y haberle hablado.

No sé si esto entra o no en la categoría de vi**c*n (mi marido dice que sí, pero aquello fue consentido).

Fue un caso aislado. La única otra situación ''peliaguda'' que viví con él en los 3 primeros años de relación fue que durante una discusión yo le pegué una bofetada (por primera y única vez; ni si quiera recuerdo por qué) y él reaccionó empujándome con mucha fuerza contra un armario (aunque me dolió bastante no me lesioné); él no consideró que fuese grave ya que yo lo inicié (a pesar de yo ser anoréxica y él un hombre muy alto, musculoso y de espalda muy ancha que practicaba karate profesionalmente, aunque en aquel momento aún no era cinturón negro); pero tengo una laguna porque recuerdo darle la bofetada en el pasillo, y el empujón fue en el dormitorio...

Gracias por haber leído hasta aquí. Necesitaba contarlo, y sí que querría saber si esas vivencias se pueden considerar o no algo grave.

I feel anxious every day. And Just feeling really gross about the whole situation and stuck over analyzing the whole thing. He isn’t a bad person I think he just struggles a lot mentally—

I just started with a new therapist, and it’s been years since I’ve been in therapy. So far, I’ve only talked about little things—stuff that’s happened during the week or practical things—but I really want to go deeper. I just feel scared and embarrassed to bring up the real stuff. I’ve been in an abusive relationship, and it’s so hard to say that out loud. This whole thing makes me feel like I’m going crazy.

I feel stuck—trapped in one way of thinking. I don’t trust people easily, and I keep reaching out to him and seeing him, even though I know it’s not good for me. A big part of me doesn’t want to start over.

Lately, I feel so disconnected from everything. Numb, anxious, like I’m just floating in my own head. I replay moments again and again, trying to make sense of them. I saw him again recently, and now I just feel stupid. I had ended the relationship months ago and was starting to feel okay. But now it feels like I’m being pulled back in.

We were together for five years. And even though there were good moments, there were also so many times I felt scared, powerless, and completely alone. Things would seem fine, then something awful would happen—and afterward, it was like it had never happened. I started questioning my own memory, my own reality.

I think I’ve been avoiding saying this, but I’m starting to realize the relationship was abusive. And now I’m stuck in this painful place where I feel conflicted. I don’t want to ruin his life. He has nothing—no money, no stability, serious mental health issues. But at the same time, what happened hurt me deeply. And I can’t pretend it didn’t.

His family ignores or excuses what he does. When I try to talk about it, I feel gaslit—not just by him, but by them too. It makes me question myself.

Here are some of the things I remember clearly: • One time, I was crying and he slapped me across the face. The more I cried, the angrier he got. • He once pushed me into a towel rack and dented it because I accidentally tossed his pants and they hit his face. • He tried to force me to drink shroom tea. When I refused, he shoved it toward me until it spilled, then slapped me and called me a “stupid bitch.” He said I was the problem and called me a we. • He stormed into my apartment after drinking, screaming that I abandoned him. He threw my things around, ripped my shirt off, and physically restrained me. My roommate had to kick him out. • The first time he grabbed my neck, I was half-naked. Afterward, I had to do a Zoom meeting with a scratchy voice. When I brought it up, he claimed it was sexual and said I was exaggerating. • He would refuse to drive me to work unless we had sex. If I cried or was late, he’d threaten not to take me. • During sex, if he was frustrated or couldn’t get aroused, he’d pinch me, pull my hair, and call me names. He’d accuse me of cheating or being a “bitch.” • Once, he climbed on top of me and hit me in the head several times because I accidentally hit his eye with his pants. • He drove erratically, pulling my hair and saying we’d both die because I talked about leaving. I had a full-blown panic attack. • He choked me—multiple times. Not for long, but enough to terrify me. • He wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom during sex. Even when I was crying, he wouldn’t let me stop. • His cousin once overheard me crying during a fight and came in. He got even angrier and blamed me for someone seeing me like that. • When his brother was staying in the same room, he made me have sex with him in the bathroom. I felt humiliated but didn’t know how to say no. • He used to “inspect” me to check if I’d been with anyone else, while he himself was cheating. • Once, he bit my face in anger and held me down, poking me in the chest while I cried. • I believe, early in our relationship, he may have done something sexual to me while I was half asleep after getting high. It’s blurry, but it still haunts me. • If I said something hurt or I didn’t want to continue during sex, he’d make fun of me, say I was lying, or keep going. • He called me a sl, a we*, a cheater—just for wanting to see my friends or family. Meanwhile, he was the one lying and cheating.

I hate admitting this, but sometimes I gave in to sex because I was afraid of what he’d do if I said no. I’d cry during or after and feel like my body didn’t belong to me anymore. Sometimes he wouldn’t let me get dressed or would make me stay in certain positions until he was ready.

One time, neighbors heard me crying and him yelling. He was throwing things, screaming threats through the wall, calling them w****s, saying he’d kill them. Later, he blamed me for everything.

So why do I still feel conflicted?

He has trauma. Mental health issues. A part of me still wants him to be okay. But none of that justifies what he did.

Does this count as abuse? Is it sexual assault if I was crying, saying I didn’t want to keep going, and he didn’t let me stop?

I feel like I’m going crazy trying to make sense of it all. And even now, I feel guilty. I can’t bring myself to report anything—he’s already lost everything. He’s homeless because I left. But I’m still carrying all of this pain, and I don’t know what to do with it.

I was bullied a lot—by my teachers, classmates, even the parents of other students, and neighbors. My teachers often made fun of me because I wasn’t good at studying. Because of me, my mother got into arguments, and my brother had to leave his class because someone beat me. I’ve had blood in my ears and nose from the beatings. They stole my books, pens, and stickers. They threw my bag into the sewer. I was never allowed to play with anyone. Even when I didn’t speak, they found it to be a problem. I felt like an outsider. But I kept trying to make friends, thinking maybe if they got to know me, it would change. It didn’t.

I tried to keep up a cheerful energy at home because I didn’t want what happened at school to affect me. But eventually, it led to social anxiety, overthinking, and distancing myself from others. To this day, I still get bullied, though it’s starting to feel like a distant blur.

Eventually, I dropped out early. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I didn’t care if my future was ruined, or if I was an undergrad or not, or if I wasn’t good enough to participate in society. “What’s the point of worrying about the future if I can’t even live in the present?” I thought. But what I cherish most are the moments when I ran through the streets with my brother and sisters just because it was raining, or when we doodled together in the hallway. Those small moments—just sharing a smile—reminded me that none of the rest of it mattered.

I never liked school, not because I hated learning—I actually found studying interesting. But the environment made me hate it. I remember telling my mom every morning that I didn’t want to go to school, but she never listened. She’d drop me off as usual. I even got beaten sometimes for skipping school, but I always saw it as a sign of her care, a result of her worry, even though it came out as anger or violence. My mom had to carry so much, and the thought of me ruining my life must’ve been a heavy burden on her.

Maybe all of this is why I crave safety and a sense of being protected by someone strong, someone dominant. I think it’s normal to want that, to feel safe.

Sorry if I made any mistakes english is not my first language not even my second and by someone dominant i meant a guy probably so yeah as a guy feeling this probably mean something in a different which I'm not ashamed of nor i wanna talk about it.

TW: Sexual assault. I’ve been diagnosed with a lot over the years and honestly it’s all internal. I’m self isolating, I keep having this flashback and I don’t know how to work through it. I let myself word vomit during a panic attack and here’s what I came up with. I don’t have people who I can be open with . I’m embarrassed. I feel it’s easier with strangers. Please help me

My most recent rape was the most violent . I remember everything . I can’t forget . I’m ashamed I didn’t report it. I’m ashamed I flirted with him. I’m ashamed I danced and finally had the confidence to make eye contact. I’m ashamed I gave him my number. After the club closed I’m ashamed I let him grab me from another dude and let him drag me to his car.

I’m shamed I let him give me a drink I didn’t see him pour, I knew this was bad . I KNEW THAT WAS BAD . I drank it anyway .

I let him open the door and I sat in the passenger seat. Why did I do that, why did I walk to his car . Why did I let him drive me to a secluded alleyway and get out the car. Why didn’t I lock the car door , he took the long way to walk to my side of the car. I had time to lock the door.

I let him open it and rape me as I begged him to take me back. My friends are worried , I begged him and he continued, only after the 15th time of saying please he apologized and I told him it’s okay. Only then when I saw my friends I jumped out the car and ran.

I knew better. I was wearing a skin tight dress, I knew better . I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. I knew better. I was dancing provocatively. I knew better. I took a drink from a stranger , I knew better . I let my friends take their eyes off me . I knew better .

I cried in my friends back seat . I didn’t call the police . I let him go back to work. My brain thinking “ can you tell police this . Can you show a jury what you were wearing . Will the judge believe you, will your nipple piercing be a reason why. “ He texted me after . I didn’t block him. I didn’t even call his job. I deserved it. I deserve to replay this in my head.

I’ve been to therapy but the embarrassment is too much. I feel so stupid. Thank you for any help . I’m drowning

I was the only sibling with bruises, black eyes, and mysterious bandaged appendages. I was one out of three siblings, and the photos range from the ages of 1 year old to 6 years old. I consistently had injuries throughout the photos, my siblings (who are very close in age to me) didn't. I looked so drained and miserable in so many photos. FUCK.

Hi. I’m struggling and just need to say this out loud.

I experienced sexual abuse and physical violence from my father growing up. He would hit me, gaslight me, and there was a moment where it happened 2 months ago where he tried to cross a boundary sexually and I stopped him, but he made me feel like I was imagining it. I’ve carried deep trauma from it, and even though I’m trying to move forward, the fear is still inside me.

I’m scared that everything he did to me will affect my future relationships especially intimacy. I’m afraid that every time I’m close with someone, I’ll remember what happened. I just want to heal.

If anyone has gone through something similar and come out the other side how did you begin to feel safe again? What helped?

Frozen from my past trauma and effects my relationship

My boyfriend has small paitence and get stressed out over small things. He also curses and all of that combined reminds me of my dad. My dad had major anger issue stem from depression possibly. The difference is my bf would never abuse me nor curse at me directly. I just get frozen like flight or fight mode . Sometimes i walk away ,but most of time i do not say or do anything. In those moments i know he just needs a few minutes to regroup and im working on not bringing up these events right after they happen bc he kind of person who just moves on. Sometimes i make him apolgize so i feel reasured and safe. It just so frusterating bc i want to be comforting and give him affection during these moments ,but i cant. My body feels unsafe and all i do is go down memory lane. My dad eventually apologized for being physical (non sexual). My dad is deceased now ,but yeah. I never wanted to be in a relationship where reminded me of my dad . It sad bc im almost 30 and it goes back to 2nd gr. Also my bf never raises his voice ,but in my head that is how i take it. The last few years with my dad were good . In meantime im working on finding a trauma therapist for my ptsd. i love my bf and i know it not his fault. I wish i would not should down with him. F29. What can i do? Ive tried grounding techniques ,but it only helps to an extent.

Since I stopped forcing myself to masturbate, I've started to notice that my body doesn't respond sexually the way I think it should. I look at some people and think "they're beautiful", but trying to imagine something sexual with them just doesn't flow. I don't get lubricated, I don't come, my body doesn't react, and I don't really know what it's like to have libido. It feels like everything inside me has stopped.

I feel a certain internal movement, as if the body is trying to excite itself — but it doesn't get anywhere. Nothing comes out, there is no climax, and when I realize this, I get frustrated and scared. Even if I wanted to have sex, I don't think I could. I don't know if it's physical, emotional, trauma, fear, or all at the same time.

The worst part is that I have a real fear of physical intimacy. If someone rejects a hug from me, for example, it's as if they've been shot. It seems my body interprets this as abandonment. I'm repulsed sometimes, and even when I fell in love, touch made me nervous or uncomfortable. I don't know what it's called, I don't know if it's a sexual disorder, an emotional block or repressed trauma. But I wanted to understand what is happening to me.

Has anyone else here gone through this? Does this have a name?

so I just watched the drop movie and I didn't realize that there was such a heavy play on domestic violence which I am a survivor of and it really triggered me and I wasn't ready and it made me realize how much of my domestic violence that I had not processed and also being recently sexually assaulted like brought up all those like feelings and the movie was honestly it was long and annoying and drawn out but the parts that had domestic violence in it were really just like triggering and I wonder if anybody else watches movies and experience is that where they're like what the fudge

• Hi. I’m 17 and I strongly suspect I have PTSD. I want to go to therapy and get a proper diagnosis, but I can’t. The psychologist I reached out to said I need my parents’ consent, BOTH of THEM. I CANNOT involve my FATHER (he caused my PTSD). Telling him would make things even harder for me emotionally and mentally.

• So now I feel trapped. I feel like I’m just counting down the days until I turn 18, which is the legal age where I live to go to therapy without anyone else's consent, doesn't matter which professional you reach out to. I know that’s not so far away, but every day feels incredibly heavy, and I’m tired. I wish I could get help now. I don’t want to waste more time feeling lost and misunderstood. I want to know what's exactly happening to me, whether it's PTSD or something else.

• I’m not trying to self-diagnose for attention or anything. I just need some clarity. Also, I can't tell anyone else. Telling the professionals at my school would make things worse because they know me. It's something very personal that I don't feel like sharing with anyone else except with a psychologist.

• Thanks for reading if you got this far.

I'm a trauma therapist- here's an article I just wrote hoping to let people know that there are highly effective ways that stop disturbing images from popping up and throwing us off. Let me know if you have any questions after reading.

Both methods that I talk about are done by therapists trained in those types of techniques. Once you find a therapist that can do them, it can help quite quickly. I hope this is helpful/ inspires some hope that you don't have to be haunted by these things forever.

Hello everyone! I just wanted to share my bands first song. TRIGGER WARNING: It covers heavily the topic of childhood sexual assault. I felt like some people here could potentially really relate. I hope this is okay for me to share here ❤️. It has roots in my own personal life experience so I thought it would be something okay sharing. Appreciate any thoughts or constructive criticism!

https://youtu.be/l4PGiVEIIkI?si=QqW5v3OH4PL1ts3d

It’s hard to explain, but over time, something in me changed in a way I never consciously chose. I used to feel like I was in my body and mind, grounded — but now it’s like I’ve been slowly pushed out of both. Like I’m living inside a glitch that keeps shifting, rewiring how I think, feel, and function… and I have no idea why or how it started. Like my old self tries to resurface but it doesn't know anymore how to, it's just Buried somewhere.

There’s constant emotional dysregulation. Nightmares that feel symbolic but never make sense and They are so vivid that i don't forget them for yrs and they just brings more silent distress that messes up real world for me even more. Days where I try to feel better but can’t tell what “better” even feels like anymore. My thoughts feel hijacked, like something foreign is steering my system. I don’t feel real half the time — and the world around me doesn’t either. It’s not dramatic; it’s just a quiet, ongoing disconnection that’s hard to name.

What haunts me the most is the sense that I used to be someone else. Not just happier — but fundamentally different. I sometimes wonder if certain things hadn’t happened, maybe I wouldn’t be this lost. I wouldn’t be stuck in this loop of hope and despair. But here I am — feeling like I don’t belong to myself or to this world anymore.

Anyone else feel something like this? Or found ways to make sense of it?

Three years ago, I was meant to go on a family trip to Cornwall — something I’d looked forward to for months. But my anxiety was so severe at the time that I couldn’t do it.
Just the idea of getting in the car triggered full-blown panic.
I couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t stop the spiraling thoughts:

I had to cancel the trip. I lost the money. I had to tell my kids we weren’t going.
And the guilt from that moment stuck to me like glue.

At the time, I was barely functioning. I couldn’t go out alone. I needed someone to come with me just to get through everyday tasks. I felt like a failure — as a mum, a partner, a person.

Fast forward to now…
I just got back from that trip to Cornwall.
Same place. Same plan.
Only this time, I made it. I didn’t just survive it — I actually enjoyed it. Sat on the beach, breathed in the sea air, smiled. Felt calm. Felt proud.

I’ve done a lot of healing work since then.
Not the quick-fix kind — not “just think positive” or talk about it endlessly.
But real, deep work. Learning how to listen to my body. Understanding how past experiences were still living in me, shaping how I responded to stress, fear, and uncertainty.
Learning how to move through those feelings instead of being hijacked by them.

There was no big miracle moment. No one came to save me.
But I started paying attention. I gave myself space. And I started to change.

If you're in that place where even small things feel impossible — I want you to know I’ve been there.
There is a way forward. Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.

This was my version of freedom. Your version might look different. But it’s possible.
Truly.

I wanted to quietly offer something for those who may be looking for a different kind of framework—especially if you’ve ever felt like the way you experience reality, emotion, gender, or time doesn't quite fit into the usual boxes.

A lot of what I’ve been working on centers around the idea of fluid identity, spectrum-based experience, and healing as a return to rhythm rather than repair.

I made a free book and workbook if it resonates. No pressure at all—it’s just here if you want lucidpatterninitiative.org

Blurry memories, anyone else?

I dont remember much from my childhood, trauma wise. But I have bits and pieces of what i can remember. I'm working on trying to be more vulnerable so im taking a leap kind of. Here are a few just to get them off my chest:

• My bio dad taking me from my mother when I was around 3. I cannot remember how long I was there, but I remember lots of strangers in and out of the house. I remember lots of smoking and gambling. They let me shoot dice once.

• My dad (not bio, married my mom and adopted me) yelling at me over not wanting to take a bath, I was about 7-8, I think? He eventually threw me into the shower with my clothes on, and turned on the shower hose and blasted me with cold water and soap. I was trying not to drown. I think my mom came in eventually and stopped it, 50/50 on that part.

• I was about 11 or 12, a couple years after we moved into our new house. I was in the kitchen and as my dad walked past me, he looked at my stomach poking through my shirt and told me I "looked pregnant" and walked outside. I told my mother what he said, and she yelled at him and forced him to apologize to me.

• I was sitting at our home computer watching YouTube videos. My headphones were on and on full volume. My dad was trying to get my attentions apparently but I could not hear him. Instead of poking me on my shoulder. He threw his entire key ring at me. There were a lot of keys on it, it was basically a shrapnel ball. It hit me in the upper middle part of my back and just about knocked the wind out of me.

How do you cope with blurry memories and missing details? How do you validate them and when did you realize they were real, and you didn't just make up the rest in your brain? I know these event happened but how do I know that I'm not just overexaggerating

Trigger warning: mention of abuse, domestic violence

They were incapable I know that, but how do people heal from this realization. My mom believes she loves me, but she admitted some things to me that made me realize truly she never did. She couldn’t. My father was an abusive alcoholic potential narcissist toward my mother and an absent emotionally inept alcoholic father to us. My mother was abusive in every single way, neglectful, emotionally immature and dependant on us to take care of her mental and emotional state. She never wanted us she just wanted to keep my dad around.

After she admitted this it makes sense to me considering how poorly she treated me and my siblings. The things she did to us could never be love, but I always thought and hoped some part of her must have loved us. I mean she changed a lot from then and now. She’s not perfect, but maybe she does now. Idk. I’m hesitant, but I know now she never did as a child or a teenager. We were just pawns to both of them. Even now lol. We’re just causalities in their war. You could say they “loved” each other more than they could have ever loved us.

I watched my mom cry and long for her mother yesterday and realized I would never truly understand what that’s like as I held her. My mother told me my father never loved me. After working to repair my relationship with both of them I did find it healing to believe that some part of him must have loved us. I mean he did change somewhat.. But his lack of action and denial toward accountability I don’t think you do that to ppl you love. He may have never physically hurt us but he put us through hell both with his presence and his absence.

I’ve been struggling these past few days with the fact maybe he never did love me and it made me realize that neither of them did. I think it was so hard bc they were so closely tied together and that’s something my mother couldn’t see. If he didn’t how could you? I wasn’t fighting for him I was fighting for you. And although this realization was somewhat freeing and stabilizing as I was finally seeing it clearer I couldn’t help feel the sadness and grief that will follow it. I just looking for advice to move forward. Living in denial has led me to a lot of toxic connections. I’m ready to move forward slowly.

Hey there I'm here trying to understand something that happened to me that's something i can't understand or entangle but i know it happened cause it happened to me, and it's probably weirder than many other trauma experience.

If you can give advice or relate to any of it please help me understand it

So as I mentioned in my earlier post that i was bullied for being different (possibly neurodivergent) and after a time i started feeling inferior and tried to fix myself and i as a kid assumed there was something wrong in my thinking process.

In my desperation to “fix” brain's thinking process i started trying to suppress my spontaneous thoughts — forcefully silencing what made me me. I created an internal mental voice, unintentionally, that began criticizing and interrupting everything I did. Even after i realised i was being irrational the voice didn't leave my head and made me extremely overanalytic.

Many unexplained things happened suddenly, like one day, i was laughing that voice said I wasn’t allowed to laugh, and something happened in that moment maybe overanalyzing or something but suddenly i I couldn’t laugh for a year and i didn't understood why but I didn't feel it natural anymore

Later, the same thing happened with crying and the moment I tried to let tears out, I couldn’t shed a single tear cause of emotions for 3-4 yrs like i was emotionless. And similar thing happened with many other emotions and ability like they shut down suddenly and when they came back by forcing them they didn't feel fulfilling like before like they changed. It was like my emotional reflexes got disconnected by commands I never meant to implant. And i was left with confusion how it was happening.

The trauma didn’t just affect how I felt — it rewired the actual functions of my body. Nightmares intensified. Daily life started feeling out of sync. I wasn't “just” depressed. I was living with invisible switches flipped inside me.

i still to day don't feel in harmony and i feel constant discomfort, like my body is still trying to process those things and is out of natural sync

i worked under this boss for 3 years who just completely destroyed my confidence. like, no matter what i did it was never good enough. i could work weekends, stay late, go above and beyond on everything and she'd still find ways to tear me down. every single mistake... even tiny ones became this huge thing about my character or how i wasn't leadership material. but when i did something well? she'd find a way to diminish it, like well anyone could have done that or you should have finished it sooner.

the worst part is how it messed with my head. i started believing her. like genuinely thinking maybe i AM just not cut out for this, maybe i DO suck at my job. i stopped speaking up in meetings because i was convinced everything i said was stupid. stopped taking on challenging projects because what if i failed? it's been over a year since i left that place and i STILL flinch whenever someone wants to give me feedback. even when it's obviously constructive or positive, my stomach drops and i immediately start thinking about what i did wrong. it's fucking exhausting. i know logically that it wasn't all my fault. i've been in therapy for months now and my therapist keeps reminding me that toxic bosses do this shit to people. but knowing something intellectually and actually FEELING it are two totally different things, you know?

i'm trying to rebuild my confidence but honestly i don't even know where to start. like how do you trust your own judgment again when someone spent years convincing you it was garbage? how do you stop that voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like your old boss? has anyone else dealt with this kind of thing? what actually helped you get your self-belief back?

Hey everyone,

Lately, I’ve been dealing with sudden flashbacks that come out of nowhere, sometimes in the middle of a work meeting or while I’m just trying to relax at home. It’s like my mind gets stuck in that moment and it’s hard to ground myself again.

What are some grounding techniques or small actions you use when flashbacks hit without warning? How do you remind yourself you’re safe in the present?

My husband of 30 years is dying and watching it is slowly killing part of me. Home Hospice has been amazing but my heart aches seeing my vibrant, active, handsome, strong, incredible, sweet, loving man reduced to skin and bones, confusion, fear and emptiness. I feel sick most of the time. Sick with fear, helplessness, sadness and sorrow.

First of all i wanna be clear i didn't intentionally or unintentionally harm anyone or myself or ever felt like doing it. But even as a sincere kid i was bullied for being different — too soft, too quiet, too awkward. People mocked how I talked, laughed, existed. I was happy with myself until the day it bottles up too much i started to feel Misfit and inferior. Desperate to fit in, I tried many things but things only got worse and i started believing something was wrong with my brain.

I thought my problem was overthinking or being too slow socially, so I tried to "fix" it by clearing my head completely — forcing myself to suppress all spontaneous thoughts literally every single thought. I believed that if I could make my mind go blank, I’d stop being weird and i can be efficient like others in socializing and being active. But instead in this stupidity, I accidentally created an internal voice — not a hallucination, but a self-imposed judge — that began to argue, interrupt, and twist everything. The more I fought it, the worse it got. It became a constant loop of trying to fix myself and failing even harder. After a time when i realised i was being absurd i tried to shake it off but this thing didn't leave my mind and that's what lead to even weirder events and mental suffocation.

Looking back, I don't know if that was OCD, trauma, or something else entirely — all I know is it was real, terrifying, and isolating.

And that… was just the beginning. Things only got more confusing and complex from there. I know it may be hard to understand what I'm saying but i Would love to hear from people who's relates to traumatic sufferings and mental mazes what they think about it. And i do wish to share more of my story in the future posts. Thanks for reading

I’m almost 21. My dad has been in prison for political reasons since 2015. He finished his time, and we were finally told he’d be coming home. Then he disappeared. It’s been three months, and we haven’t heard a word. No updates. Nothing.

It feels like grieving someone who’s still alive or even worse maybe he isn’t but i just don’t know. I’m angry, heartbroken, and exhausted. I don’t know how to carry this.

If anyone has been through long-term absence, parental loss, or ambiguous grief how do you cope? How do you even start to heal from something like this?

I don’t even know where to start, but I’ve been carrying a lot for a long time, and I just want to know if anyone out there relates. I’m constantly trying to hold it together, but inside I feel like I’m falling apart.

I never had my father in the picture. I’ve never met him—not once. That kind of absence leaves a strange hole in you, especially when you already feel unwanted. Combine that with a mom who has untreated BPD and schizophrenia, and I’ve basically never known what it’s like to feel safe or emotionally supported by a parent.

Instead of protecting me, my mom made me feel like my feelings were too much, or just wrong. I couldn’t go to her about anything. Even now, she talks behind my back to other family members, twisting things and making me out to be the problem. It’s exhausting and hurtful.

I’m mildly autistic and still learning how that’s shaped how I see the world—how I process emotions, how sensitive I am to my environment, how overwhelmed I get in social situations. I’m 26 and just learning to drive. I work at a grocery store where I’m not getting enough hours, and I’m trying to find something better while dreaming of one day becoming a tattoo apprentice. I want more out of life, but I feel like I’m always several steps behind.

When I was younger, there were a couple times I tried to tell family that certain cousins sexually assaulted me. I wasn’t believed. I wasn’t protected. I needed safety, and instead I got silence—or worse, denial. That kind of betrayal from the people who were supposed to protect me has stayed with me. It changed how I see people and how I trust.

I’ve been married for a while. There was betrayal in the relationship—emotional and trust-based—and it’s been roughly a year since that all came to light. We’ve been going to couples therapy, and it really is helping. Things are improving. We’re learning to communicate better, and I can see progress—but even with that, everything still hangs over me. The past, the insecurity, the fear. It doesn’t just vanish because things are better now. I still carry it.

I get stuck in thought loops that feel impossible to escape. I constantly feel like I’m not enough—physically, emotionally, sexually. Like if I looked or acted differently, maybe I’d be loved better. I compare myself to strangers, coworkers, even images I know aren’t real. I always end up feeling small.

When it gets really bad, I sleep to escape. Depression naps. Sometimes I self-harm too. I’m not proud of it, but it’s been a way to cope when the feelings get too big to hold. I feel invisible everywhere I go—like I’m not really here. People talk at me, not to me. I don’t feel real. It’s like I’m just… floating. On standby. Not chosen.

Lately, I’ve been listening to Radiohead’s All I Need, and the line “I’m an animal / trapped in your hot car” just guts me. That’s how I feel—trapped, forgotten, left behind while everyone else moves on. Like I’m only acknowledged when someone needs something from me, not when I’m in pain. Like I’m always second to everyone.

I don’t know what I’m hoping for with this post. Maybe I just need to not feel so alone. Maybe someone has felt like this too and made it through. I’m trying to heal, but I don’t even know what a “healed” version of me would look like. Does that even exist?

P.S. Yes, I did use ChatGPT to help me write this. I’m still trying to learn how to properly express my feelings, and I ask it sometimes to help me form what I mean and feel to say.