Messages

❤ thank you nice to be Notalone.🥰

Thank you Snowdrop, it is a sigh of relief.
Arale, right you are... When you have learned how people lie and deceit and hide in plain sight  - you are that boy who reveals the truth about social codes that are just fake. I guess  welcome to the Matrix 🙃
A question though...how do you use those emojis? Oooold lady...🤪

It has not been so long since I came to partake in OOTS  - I have been reading a little bit here and there. And tears comes to my eyes. Deep emotions are stirred by you all.
All my life I have been the ugly duckling.  Speaking in a fashion that doesn't resonate in with how others speak. Always feeling different, awkward and distant.
Here I have found people who respond to issues or things being shared like...me... I don't cry. But I feel tears rushing through my heart of healing and I have found my tribe! Thank you all for being  you. You are beautiful to me.
On a deep level I have been healed by you. ❤

When I was born my father was happy. He wanted to have a girl. He had actually fathered nine children including myself. But he never had been a father. So I think that this was his chance to.
He had already been robbed by his own history. Losing his father at 17 and subsequently married of to a woman chosen by his mother. She (my grandmother)had the nickname "Pikku-hitleri" Little- Hitler. When he became a drunkard I don't know. Just that it was early.
Except for not keeping me clean, not feeding and not keeping me safe... My father was my hero. My first memories comes from him. Walking my hand gripping his pinky.

The summer of -73 was "eventful " - I had been raped (I was 6 years going on 7) and I thought to tell my father what had happened. So I walked down stairs to the kitchen and bathroom where he was. And for the first time my safe place was not safe anymore. He became furious with me because we had to be in bed at 18.00 ( including my older siblings) at this time it was passed 20.00. He turned into a monster. Grabbing my hair and carried me three stories up. Shaking me holding me by my hair and shouting at me. I was terrified.

However I did meet my real father.  It was on his deathbed. After having no-contact for...? 19 years I stepped into the hospital room.  And a clear-eyed man with the bluest eyes looked at me with love in his eyes. And I spent about three weeks with him.  Caring for him day and night up until he passed. One day when I came back from having changed clothes and caring for his wife. He said "Where have you been?  I missed you so much! I love you! Do you know that?  That I love you? "

He died early one morning when I was getting a cup of coffee.
But with all the bad memories I have. These three weeks of being with my father is such a great treasure of pearls, shaped through the moments collected.

Needed to share this with you. I don't know if my father also had cptsd...perhaps. I know that he was lost until three years before he died, then he finally stopped drinking. 

Your words speak to me, beautiful and sad... Sorrow, I heard is another word for lost love... Love never had I guess also fits.  Thank you...

❤⛅

Thank you so much... I find myself to be triggered by...everything right now so it's really hard. And I am understanding things about myself that I never thought of before. And I can't tell you how much it means to me to have you here.🌻

 
Trigger warnings
My M didn't want to have me. So she tried to abort me herself (when the doctor told her that after four boys "one more wont hurt you"). She tried bouncing down the stairs, sitting on the back of a motorbike driving over the beams of a railroad tracks. When I was born a girl  - I did this to spite her. She gave instructions not to touch me. And left for work. So I was left unattended for with all basic needs. My food was cold formula (? correct? ).
My M didn't beat us or me. But she did everything else. When my parents ate they locked us in a room upstairs. When I was bathed it was with very hard hands. Hair brushed - same thing.

When I was six going on seven my second oldest so-called brother raped me. The summer after that an uncle as well started molesting me.
Our house was a house of bullying. School didn't go so well. Luckily I have always loved reading. I started at ten to talk to my brain. Learning from my dreams. Helping me to remember that it had happened eventhough I gave myself permission not to remember the details.

At twelve I seduced my oldest brother's BF (he was eighteen and a virgin)  - in order to get out of the house. The small town were I lived had no problem with me being picked up by my boyfriend with his car. No adult reacted.

My first husband was abusive and my "family " were all on his side. When I lost my son being four month pregnant and everybody said "Ah, you'll get over it." I got angry for the first time in my life.

My second time of marriage is a loving relationship. We have been married soon for 26 years.  But this time hasn't been an easy road either.

I find myself to be a contradiction of terms. I am strong  - but I am not. I have a voice  - but I don't.  I am happy  - but I just want to cry. I want to cry - but I don't. Etc...
Full of bad memories...

Thank you Bach. I've always been racing through what I do, due to my tyrant M. So either I'm lethargic or going in 200km/h. Haven't seen anyone else having the same issue... So now I am really for the first time saying to myself that I am doing things in my own speed. Eventhough I don't know what it is...yet.

Thank you all so much.
Have tried to write more about myself, but it doesn't work yet.
I just have come to understand that I have cptsd and not PTSD- so my brain is still sifting through the symptoms of cptsd. Things that I have thought was a part of me. So I am very limited to do anything else...😔

Thank you Slim. It is a thoughtful text.

Having the experience of abuse and not having the right to say "No." I think that it is important to take back your own personal response. Asking myself  - how do I want to be? How do I want to interact with friends and strangers? Not just who am I  - but how? I know that I want to be me. However I will be. Heard a quote about trust. "It's not about how much you trust someone else.  It's how much do you trust yourself to handle whatever they might dish out. "

This is so true. I guess it goes the other way too. I mean who would want to have "the prize " for the "most trauma? A good friend I had in my teens was traumatized because he had so small feet. My first reaction was "He is fortunate!" But soon I realised that it is no subject to be competitive with...

Hi, don't know if I'm doing this right..but I wanted to introduce myself to all of you.
Everything really was started before I was born. My parents having had their childhood during wartime. Grew up to be dysfunctional adults. In a short time had too many children. Where I am the youngest and the only girl. Sooo...no care, no food, no attention and that was at infancy. Father who was an alcoholic and a mother who was a narcissist...didn't make for a "normal " family life. Let's just say that it was a perfect storm.
Life hasn't been easy. But I am so grateful to have a wonderful husband since 26 years.
Eventhough I didn't live in my past, my past lives in me. Only now I have come to recognize what has been happening to me is the symptoms of cptsd. So I hope I can get out of the storm finally.
This is a dream of mine actually, too be able to communicate with folks like me...to encourage one another.  So Hi! thank you for listening.