Being unable to differentiate between who is real or not has been an ongoing issue all of my life. This comes down to a lot of traumatic experiences in which I have talked about through therapy — However, there are some professionals who should not be in the field as they further damage others. I’ve observed colleagues yell at other clients in a crisis for no apparent reason. I’ve observed teachers do the same too. Yelling further triggers some of us and it’s about developing that self awareness to be able to take a step back and, not necessarily assume — But to observe yourself and think twice before raising our voice at others. I find that the tone of our voices can have a huge impact on others. Where am I going with this? At times, I struggle to differentiate between what is real or not. I’ve had a lot of fake encounters to a point where I’m unsure who the real ones are. I’ve been held hostage, emotionally manipulated, and taken advantage of by those that stated that they would be there to only go against their word. There’s many character examples here.
Last night, I had dissociated, and today, I’m somewhat dissociating yet again. It’s experiencing the life outside of your own body and you’re tuned into some other realm or existence. Dissociation looks differently for a lot of us. Everyone copes differently and we do not experience the same symptoms.
It’s debilitating to say the least, to wake up and experience his hands on my body, and those bruises that were not there from a few days ago- Those bruises turning from a yellow to a dark blue but nobody knows as the abuse has been concealed for so many years. People see a girl with a smile, but they’re unaware of what she went through. On those sleepless nights, she lies awake in fear and does not know what to expect. This little girl’s childhood was robbed. I was not able to be the child I was able to be. Through the sleepless nights, blood-soaked covers, voices telling me to end things — And through the times being told I’m not good enough by a monster and that the only thing I’m good at is sex. I wasn’t too sure how to make out a lot of things.
I never spoke on this because what’s there to say? I speak about this in my anonymous blog as it is easier to further express myself. The many of you who are in my corner and not dismissing my trauma or re-triggering me — Those are the people I want in my corner. I’ve encountered many fake individuals who only want clout and attention. I’m not for that at all. If you’re in my life, you’re in my life and you will be there and to listen when I am experiencing a crisis or when I am in distress.
Last night, I had experienced bouts of night terrors. Again, I got about three hours of sleep. The monster was in my room again, wearing those black construction trousers with a navy blue t-shirt. He wore laser print sunglasses and had on a sullen smile. I sat there whimpering from afar as he came closer, slowly unzipping his pants. The room went silent and I could feel butterflies in the pit of my stomach. The butterflies taking a hold of my only existence, remembering how I wanted to end things for good only just last night. He’s right next to my body, placing his hand inside my lap, and I anxiously watched his hand go towards my crotch area. His warm breath oozes down the side of my neck, the strong whiff of cigar smoke laced with whisky from last night’s drinking. Last night, he was inside my bed again, undressed and forcing sexual intercourse onto me. My entire body is frozen as I try to gasp for air, unable to control my breathing. His hands move from my crotch air, slowly caressing my face while attempting to make out with me.
His body is in front of mine as he takes off his t-shirt and comments, “you’re so beautiful. I want you in me.” I don’t say anything as I feel a heavy lump at the back of my throat.
Slowly taking off his pants, everything comes out and then he takes mine off too. I attempt to fight this with little luck. I know I’ll only make things worse so I resist the urge and allow this to happen because it’s easier to let it happen than to scream. I know this from other experiences. Last time I was beat to a point where I had to just allow it to happen. I was unable to leave the house for a few weeks. It was that bad.
His warm breath is on mine as he lays me down on the mattress, getting on top of my body. He’s fully naked at this point, taking off my shirt and caressing my breasts. Everything stops before my eyes and the room is quiet, not even a single drop of anything can be heard. His sweaty hands caress my hair back and forth — He kisses the side of my neck, leaving a darkened black and blue bruise there after; he does the same on the other side. Upon doing that, he caresses my breasts while slowly moving downwards — Eventually to my crotch area and then begins to have sex with me.
This brings me back to 2016 where Jeff Barrett had ruined my life immensely. You guys really do not know. I wore a bright neon green t-shirt with grey pants with visible paint markings on them. I lay there in the back of his van, and I’m in tears, pleading for Jeff to get off of me. He doesn’t. He caresses my breasts before taking off my pants, shoving his penis into me. I’m unable to move or do anything. No words are coming out. What else is there to say? I’m in the middle of nowhere, in some underground parking lot. My limbs are frozen, and I feel nauseous, and I’m having difficulty controlling my breathing. Every breathe I take, the breathing intensifies and right into panic mode. As my eyes drift away, my heart starts beating super fast against my chest. The memories of my childhood and being sexually abused every day and every night come back. My childhood was never a childhood, and nobody knew.
This brings me back to Friday, May 5th of 2023 upon encountering someone that love bombed their way into my life — Intentionally turning others against me through a deceptive identity and plenty of misleading rumors towards the public. That night, a lot happened and I speak my story as much as possible. I was vulnerable and taken advantage of. This person refuses to acknowledge what had happened. He told me this, “you enjoyed that night.” I enjoyed it when you left my house. Upon leaving my house, that one comment you made about something breakfast and eating me out — That was very inappropriate. This person claims to have trauma himself, more so unhealed trauma but undermines mine.
As a victim and a survivor of rape, sexual assault and narcissistic abuse — I’m surprised I’m still alive. Since May 5th, I’ve been nothing but triggered. If you have been following my anonymous Twitter for a while and closely following my blogs, you’re likely aware that I have been through a lot of pain and suffering. That is why I understand when another person expresses themselves and shares their experiences. I get it. I understand C-PTSD — It is having multiple traumatic experiences occur throughout a life time or periodically even in a short period of time. I have never had a fair shot at life and you can thank the many narcissists that have ruined that for me.
Two days ago, I was quite stupid to allow the narcissist back into my life. I was vulnerable yet again and wanted to feel heard, cared for and loved. Little was I aware that the narcissist was exploiting and using me yet again. The narcissist is eager to say the least and they will stop at nothing to get what they want. The narcissist is unaware of who they are but pretends to know who they are. Again, the narcissist has ruined me and there is no coming back from this.
I’ve had instances where I wanted to just end things and forget about my existence altogether. I’ve stayed alive for those closest to me, especially as I try to fight every day. If only people knew the tears that came about and those sleepless nights. Recently, I’ve noticed that society refuses to listen due to entitlement and greed, especially when others are not doing so well and being abused. We live in a very backwards society that profits off of others miseries which I’ve never quite understood to say the least.
To sit there and disregard another person’s trauma and to say, “I have trauma too but I’m not sharing it with others.” To say this to someone with 0 supports in real life and who has been sexually abused — You don’t say that to someone. I’ve been inspired and empowered to tell my story as it is and so I do that and I’m thankful for anonymity.
Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a series of recurrent Traumatic experiences over time. We can utilize therapy and dialectical behavioral therapy but the memories and the flashbacks will still be there. We can over compensate by endlessly working but we’re only masking and pretending that the trauma never happened when it did. I know I do this — I’m over working myself to a point where I’m escaping from it all, little am I aware of the detrimental impacts this has on myself altogether.
Given the lack of supports with mental health and trauma, there isn’t much of a choice to reach out. I’ve given my efforts and have attempted to reach out on numerous occasions. As mentioned in previous entries, I have had therapy and recently, too. I haven’t fully given up. I’ve always been proactive in seeking support on top of balancing work and other adult-like responsibilities. The system for all of this is still largely flawed, and this has to do with a lack of funding and the reasonable means to support those that truly need it.
I’m in the field — I work in Mental Health and Addictions, and I always advocate for those with personal lived experience. However, the burn out rate is quite high due to this term called vicarious trauma. This is where you take on other people’s traumas and it is very hard to get navigate after being exposed to this. Employers have recommended the Employee Assistance Program. That resource is not that effective at times. It can be a hit or miss and this depends on which type of counsellor you get. I used to reach out to them. I don’t anymore and this has to do with a lot of mistrust. I had a counselor who spoke to me for a few hours and promised to call to check in later that night, and did not. In this field, you must not make empty promises as this will further lead to an eventual crisis or the risk of one taking their lives.
Social Services in general is largely shamed and stigmatized. It isn’t what it appears to be. As professionals, we are unable to effectively reach out for help as a result of backwards stigma. That is why I mask and why I’ve come to anonymous mental health Twitter. It’s also expensive for therapy at times. Most of these services has a cost to it and a number on the amount of sessions one can have. Unfortunately for those that are diagnosed with C-PTSD such as myself, we’re unable to proactively seek the appropriate supports and so we’re suffering in private. This can go on for weeks to months and to a couple of years.
When you see someone happy with a smile on their face, kindly question that. You never really know someone else’s story or experiences so please do not assume and just be there for that person. Everyone has a story worth sharing regardless if that is told or not.