Survivor

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TW: Mention of BDSM, physical & mental abuse, rape, gaslighting, triggers, and miscarriage.

This tattoo has been in the works for a long time and will be setting the tone for this year. I spent almost eight years between two highly mentally & physically abusive relationships that I am going to touch on in this post.

It was during this time that I was heavily gaslighted during both to the point I began to think that I was losing my sanity. Things were never as they appeared to me they would swear over and over that I didn’t say that… or that event never happened. I began to question what was truly happening. So I stopped knowing what truly happened. My mind truly has holes in like Swiss cheese where I can no longer remember what happened. So when I am questioned about my abuse, and I can’t give an exact timeline… and people look at me like oh sure you just making that up… I just break down. I lose all control to rationalize what happened to me because I can’t just sit here and go ABCDEFG like a normal person.

When the fights began, they would always win. I didn’t realize that it was a giant game to them… or the fact that I was losing till it was far too late. Even before I was in a relationship with either of them screaming at me has already been a trigger for me. My father is old navy, and if he got mad, he would scream at me, and at that point when someone would yell at me, or even around me I would shut down. My reality would implode, and I would fall into pieces. I would try to run I wouldn’t know where I was going and have ended up passed out miles away at times. They knew this and would use it against me. They would scream at me causing me to run, and generally would trap me in a corner. I thought that this was something that I had overcame since it had not occurred in quite some time though recently memories have been boiling at the surface causing old and new triggers.  So they would scream at me every time I would try to simply talk and work things out causing me to shut down. Cornered until I would fight back finally, and of course, they would end up covered in bruises. It was always my fault so mixed with the gaslighting I would then begin to believe that I was the abuser.

Though, when I began to seek treatment,  I was stopped. A therapist couldn’t help me they were just there to listen to you cry and make money. They didn’t help people is what I was told over and over. Plus therapy is expensive, and that isn’t something we could afford. Money was never mine it didn’t matter if  I was working 2-3 jobs it was still never mine. I would constantly try to hide money, but if found out something would be done to make me pay for it. Like once again not buy groceries, or not allow me to get new panties even though all of the ones that I owned had holes and were falling apart. I ended up resorting to stealing a lot more often then I would like to admit. 

If I wanted something, it would never happen. If I needed something, I would have to beg for it. Even though at the time my size and weight never really changed drastically sex began to be withdrawn, and I would be told things like it just wasn’t the right time or mood. Then, I was told that I was simply too fat and too ugly. All of a sudden groceries that I liked and would eat we couldn’t afford. Though things that I disliked or refused to eat were in bought in plenty, this is when I started going days without eating and even began vomiting up food if I felt that I ate too much. So my weight became an immense deal to me. So even now I don’t eat that much. I rarely ask for food, and when I do if it is ignored I won’t eat for a few days. I  feel that if you ignored that I needed to eat, then you are saying I am fat. I don’t make myself vomit anymore I just don’t eat.

When sex would happen it was no longer making love it was mean sex.My ex-husband was very long, and he would repeatedly hit my cervix over and over. He would use my love of bondage as a way to lure me in. He would tie my hands to the bed, and he would take me for hours. He didn’t stop til I would either passed out or began to bleed. When I would curl up crying, he would yell at me, and tell me that this was my fault it was what I wanted. I wanted a man that would hurt me. I was after all a masochist, which was accurate enough. I did want a Dominant. I did want to be hurt… but not like that. All I ever wanted was a Dominant gentleman to guide me and love me. One that would make me beg and scream, but nowhere the lines where. He didn’t care, though  I was “HIS”

He loved to dress up in girls clothes, and I thought it was kind of sexy… my bad. Since I accepted him unconditionally when he would dress up, I would get punished for it. He began to hate that side of him as I would try to coax it out. It was during this time I made the mistake of telling him that I didn’t feel like a woman and that I felt that I was in fact, a man. I will explain further into this what I remember.

My lifestyle made me a freak to him even though he knew about it before marriage. I became a sex craved nympho that didn’t love him I just wanted sex even though at the point I began to abhor sex was when he started to adore it, and want more and more. He began to start to take me whether I wanted it or not. It took me a long time to call it rape.  I tried to reach out, but both my parents, members of the church, and the police told me that a man could not rape his wife. After, the third time of trying to reach out for help I stopped, and the mean sex and rape continued into my second abusive relationship.

What I just told you is something few even know about me. It is also only the tip of what truly transpired during this period in my life. Very few know that I suffer PTSD because of this if not CPTSD like I suspect that I do.  I don’t let many know that I have triggers let alone what they are because my 2nd abusive relationship used my triggers against me while adding his own. Though, he was not the only person that has used my triggers against me since then. Even less know that I suffer from night terrors or that over the last year they have increasingly gotten worse.

Early, I said I would explain what happened when I told him that I didn’t believe that I was a woman after he had started to dress feminine. The reason I said this is because I needed to explain about the night terrors first because the mass majority of them are memories of the past. They are not things that my brain has made up to frighten me. These are things that I experienced, and my mind suppressed to preserve itself. This particular terror is the most vivid that I have seen to date, and I will not be able to go into extreme detail so as not to trigger others. When I told him that I thought that I was trans I had just learned that I was pregnant for the second time. I had not yet been to a doctor though I had suspected that I was for weeks. During my first pregnancy with twins mind you I didn’t show as positive til I was close to around 7 or 8 weeks along. I was told this wasn’t entirely uncommon and was due to a lower amount of a particular hormone. So I can only speculate that I was at least that far this time around. As you can imagine due to his self-hatred of enjoying feminine clothing that me telling him I was trans was not taken well. In hindsight, I should not have said anything, though I thought maybe if I accepted myself that maybe he could accept himself.

It didn’t work out that way at. I remember him screaming that he was not gay while punching, kicking, screaming, and hitting me. I had fallen to the floor and was unable to protect myself at all. I was just trying desperately to protect my stomach as the blows continued for what seemed like forever. I don’t remember him stopping so I guess I passed out. The next thing that I remember was being covered in blood, and struggling to crawl to the bathtub. When I was able to get in it, I just sat in the bottom numb for a while til I finally began to sob. It was long after the water grew cold before I crawled out. I slept in the master closet that night. I can not tell you what I was thinking at the time all I can recall is the sheer terror that had completely taken over. It should go without saying that the next pregnancy test I took was negative. I also can not recall the next sequence of events.

I am sure by now you are wondering if I have sought help since then and the answer is yes I have, but also no because I have gained none. I had tried to tell my story to a couple of therapist in the past, but they proved to be unhelpful most finding my story to be dubious or far reached. I had several tell me that it was a figment of a mental breakdown that I must have had since I was unable to recall details in order or even at all in some cases.It was not until recently that I found a psychologist that I trust enough to begin to tell my story too or at least the parts that I can remember. One that I felt might be able to help me. Though, there is also a problem with this you see. I spend far more time helping others cope with their past abuse, current abuse, or even just their problems in general then I have ever spent on my problems. My psychologist has noticed this behavior, though that shouldn’t be much of a surprise considering the amount of time I have spent in his office talking about others far more than myself.

That is why I have decided that this year is going to be vastly different. I love my friends and my chosen family, and I have always been the person that is there no matter what is going on in my life or time of day. There have been many times that I have been spiraling completely out of control only to help someone else instead of seeking help for myself. It has been extremely rare for me to turn my back on someone when in truth I am probably in just as much if not more need of help than they are. I want to help people, but helping others at the risk of myself is beginning to have serious effects. Instead of taking the time to pull back recover and fix myself I have burnt myself out helping others to the point of physical fatigue and illness. The sheer truth of the matter I am not getting better I am in fact getting worse.

So I have decided to take the next year to treat myself and recover before I lose all hope of being able to do so. I am going to ask for others to seek help from others and to respect that I am unable to do so right now not. If this is hard for you to understand, you can look at it like I am a runner who has just lost their legs. No matter how much I want to run right now, it’s going to take time for my prosthetics to be sized and made. Then, it will be a slow uphill battle in physical therapy before I am even able to walk again let alone run. I am confidence though that no matter what anyone else says I will not only run again I will learn how to fly in time.

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Two kinds of Hurricanes 

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So last night Mom was moved from Viber to MUSC for two reasons. The first one being the real hurricane that is threatening us, and they needed to move her off the coast. The second being that she hasn’t gotten any better. In truth, she has been getting worse. Her lungs are permanently damaged, and she will never be able to breathe on her own again. Not without a pretty great miracle at least. Dad isn’t doing great though I think he finally realizes that she realistically will not make it. I know that he is still praying for a miracle.

In truth, I hope that he gets his miracle, but I also worry what will happen if he doesn’t. He has talked about moving overseas if he loses mom… and I don’t know how I feel about that. I feel like if I lost one parent that I will end up losing both…

Though, on the other hand, there is the second hurricane the one within me because I know that if my parents knew who I truly was they would not accept me. The most they know is that I am kinky, but they don’t know anything else.

I honestly doubt they know that I’m pansexual or polyamorous. I serious doubt that they know that I am a demimale, which for those that don’t know means I’m a trans male. The only thing that holds me back is that I still flux to andro and do not feel wholly male though I do identify the most with my masculine side.

In part, I wish I had time to tell my mom and have enough time for her to get used to it. To have adequate time to have her understand potentially, but I know that time is a luxury that I don’t have. I also know that it would take her years to accept me if she ever does. Dad… I don’t think he would ever fully accept me as a demimale. Being pansexual and polyamorous would be something that he could potentially wrap his head around. The thought of me being an entirely different gender though? I don’t think he could ever actually understand or that he would even want to.

So therein lies the two hurricanes in my life right now. The one that is threatening us physically and the one that is my mind. I wish that I had answers to the questions that I have, but I know that this isn’t something that Google can help me with.

Fractured reality of a fragile mind

Do not lie to my face. Never tell me that what happened was just a figment of my imagination. Two before you already did that. So much so that I used to cut myself in order to know what was reality, and what was just inside my head.When you decided to date a survivor you put your ego on the shelf. When you asked one to marry you that ego should have been completely erased. 

Instead you lie to my face and smile. All the wonder I’m doubting the reality around me. I can see the dark hands protruding from the walls. I can feel them slithering up to my neck to chock me. I fight back against the pain in my chest that is threatening to take hold. I instantly begin to replay the chain of events. All the while I’m dying inside you simply smile. 

So when you say I love you after that it makes me want to spit which all but completely destroys me. 

Maelstrom

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My life recently has been in crisis mode for so long that I feel that my body stuck in a sympathetic mode, which is our bodies fight mode. So when we are in the battle mode of sorts, our bodies do not have the resources to be able still to maintain proper functioning of all of the vital processes like healing, growing, digestion, immune system, etc. There is only so much energy that our body can produce.

I’m going to start with where I feel like everything spun out of concrtrol. Last month, we received a court summon because my husband got behind on his child support. He recently had a paycheck that was sadly out of our hands, though, because he is a disabled veteran. Recently, the disability that he was drawing from the county got revoked. Their doctor’s decided that he could go back to work “part-time,” so they completely cut off the disability check we had been receiving twice a month. Leaving us with only his VA medical disability. So he made the command decision to go against his doctors and return to the workforce. Returning to work for him has been nice, but it exposes him regularly to his triggers, which of course trigger him. So our finances have been a big worry for us right now with lots of other smaller financial events such as our washer breaking.

We had begun to take our pack and merge it the house of someone special to me. During this time we came to the mutual decision to write down all of our triggers as well as tell our survival stories. Since the mass majority of the members are all survivors of domestic abuse, as well as mental abuse. While attempting to do this, I unintentionally triggered myself and learned of the existence of a wall within my mind. I learned that during my abusive relationship I repressed a lot of those memories. Now I have begun to have nightmares and memories have started to surface in my mind as well as a presence.

I’m not sure exactly what this presence is. It’s like I’m sharing part of my mind with someone else. I have memories that I don’t understand of places I have never seen, and I’m not even sure exists. I have thoughts and emotions that are not mine, and I can not place who they belong to, with the feelings, it’s almost like when I didn’t know how to put up barriers for my empathic abilities so that I would flood with everyone nears emotions. Also the most stunning were hearing a voice talking to me. Keeping in mind, I have spirit guides that I talk to regularly, and I talk to my God and Goddess frequently. This voice was not a known voice within my mind.

Next, being an event that occurred that resulted in Gruff and myself becoming triggered and ended in him suicidal and myself severely triggered to the point of complete detachment. Within 24 hours of this event, our submissive detached herself from my household, pack, and Gruff to stay with a friend. I learned more about their abusive marriage and past. I found out that once again I was potential with someone that could harm me. Within 24 hours I felt like I had completely lost both of them. I felt lost and trapped, and unsure of the truth anymore. The story though truthful in nature just has too many holes causing an uneasiness to settle over my heart and mind.

Since that moment everything has changed. I told her that I would be giving her plenty of breathing room, but still find the depth of despair my soul can reach when I barely speak to her. The irony of listening to her secondary partner complain about not being able to spend as much time with her when he is sitting in the same room as her barely a couple of feet away on the same couch. To the person who is special to me breaking down repeatedly as they bombarded with all of the crisis things as well. Watching him also having to suffer through it all. Wishing that I could just bare it all for the both of us, but knowing that I physically can not. No matter how much I try to pretend that, I am that strong.

Then to top it all of my Mother is in the hospital. She has 3rd stage colon cancer and is forming clots in her legs. They keep putting her on thinners to break down the clots, which helps, but then it in turns damages her lungs. So she has been put back on a ventilator and is unconscious. For most people, they would be completely devastated… right now I feel like a sociopath. I love my Mother don’t get me wrong, but I spent my entire life receiving mentally and physically abused at her hands. My Father had a hand as well, but it was usually more my Mother’s doing. So even though I do care about her, and I don’t want her to die… I don’t particularly want to sit in the hospital and watch her. I want to stay positive and say she will get better, but I have enough medical training to know that the chance of her survival let alone her survival with no brain or lung damage is slim at best.
So this is the maelstrom that is my life right now. Even on relatively good days, I don’t know which way is up or down any longer. I feel like I have a worsening case of vertigo that is never ending. I’m praying silently and weeping aloud for a time of quiet. So a time of balance and peace once more.

 

Frustrations

I find it extremely frustrating when I am trying to take time for me, and he doesn’t take care of himself. Recently, he got his daith pierced in hopes that it would help relieve his migrains. Doing so I believe has actually had a dramatic improvement on his health. He actually has had far less migrains then he was orginally experiencing…but he doesn’t take care of it at all. I’m constantly reminding him to clean it and soak it.

I literally just had to wake him up take his ecig from his mouth make him let me clean his ear, put on his cpap mask, and put him back into the bed…

This isnt the only time by far… most of the stories are similar like when he got his most recent tattoo I had to constantly remind him to clean it and put lotion on it.

Reminding him to take his medicine is a daily occurrence as well. 

Sometimes he can’t remember if he has taken his medicine or not. I got him a box, but he just stopped using it… He likes certain routines and doesn’t like them messed with.

I have to constantly question if this is part of the PTSD or is he just being lazy? The sad part is I feel so lost and alone, because I can’t answer those questions.

We have been members of the Wounded Warriors Project now for a year, and I have gone to two different caregiver functions which are meant to get you away from your veteran and for you to socialize. The problem though is that most of the caregivers attend are woman, and typically aren’t interested in getting to know me due to my appearance.

I’d really love to go on a caregiver retreat, but it would have to be at the same time he goes on a veteran retreat. I couldn’t just leave him home for a week without me.

Who and what am I…?

12239918_10153747281759443_2635632062915857508_nI am Snow

My story is ever changing to the point I can’t always answer who and what I am. I can though tell you that I identify as a pansexual genderfluid demiboy. I’m married to amazing man that is a veteran that struggles with PTSD and memory issues, and as his partner I am also his care giver. A job title that doesn’t get paid vacation or sick leave, but one that is still vastly rewarding.

My path is that of a Christo-Pagan. I have never met anyone else that follows the same path as me, but I pray that one day that I do.

I  myself also suffer from PTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, and body dysphoria. With that being said I tend to put my health on the back burner a lot. Recently one of my family reminded me that I can’t help anyone if I don’t help myself first. So I am starting this blog as a therapeutic way for me to sort my thoughts.