The Good & Bad

It’s been basically 3 months since the last time I wrote anything here, and reading my previous post made me sad. I felt that way because I feel like it hasnt’ really changed. A lot has honestly changed since then, but it still feels like I’m stuck. I can see a lot of positive things, but behind the facade of motive and drive it is not really there. I have started sleeping more and more as well as later again. Nick and I just seem to be butting heads a lot lately, and well it sucks. I know that I’m still burnt out, and continuing to burn at that. I just don’t know how to put out the fire and pull myself out of the quicksand. To try and at least maybe simmer down the flames, I’ll try to be positive, and list the good & bad.

Good:

  • I have started to really commit to my business.
  • I have had my Etsy store viewed 356 times
  • Favorited 10 times
  • I’ve had 3 orders totaling 51.00
  • On Pinterest, I have 580 Followers
  • My website is now up and running
  • My Facebook page has 31 followers so far.
  • I’m planning to host a giveaway once my Facebook page gets to 100 followers.

Bad: 

  • I feel like the everything I have accomplish is minor.
  • I’m worried that my business will fail.
  • Nick and Me butting heads all over the place.
  • Nick is trying to start his own business that I’m worried will fail as well.

Well, I guess the good outweighs the bad after all. I’m glad that I took a moment to sit down and write this all out. I will try to make it a habit of blogging a lot more here and on my business blog.

 

 

 

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Voices

The point where you realize that no matter what you do you are just going to continue to spiral. I am completely burnt out beyond the point of a quick recovery, and I’m beginning to doubt that I will ever even be allowed to recover at all. My anxiety started to eat at my what is left of my core. The night terrors have consumed my dreams to the point I don’t even want to close my eyes at night, but when I try to wake up, I can’t keep them open because I’m so exhausted. I don’t get restful sleep, because my dreams are filled with running, fighting, sobbing, blood, death, and more. I wish that they were simply figments of my imagination, but no sadly my dreams are real. A reality that of the past still haunts me tainting my present.

I’m so exhausted and tired that I have begun to have suicidal ideations. What if I don’t press my break? Maybe I shouldn’t turn. If I take these, I could sleep forever. It will only hurt for a moment. Just one little step forward. This isn’t a phase or a call for help it’s merely just a glimpse into my life because this isn’t something new to me. It may be that this could potentially be one of the more powerful pulls to the darkness that I have experienced though it isn’t the first or the last.

Doubting everything around me is completely normal you see. Listening to the voices tell me that no one cares. That I’m simply a means to an end and that I’m just a tool to be used and discarded. Some would probably tell me just not to listen because it’s not true. That would be where you are misguided though because it has never been wrong.  It was right while my ex-husband played games with my head making me believe that I was a freak, and it was right while my ex-Master used me as a tool. Time and time again it has never proven to be wrong. That is why it’s not just something that I can shut off or ignore. What if this time it is not wrong yet again?

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.

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.

Through the looking glass

I am not editing this right now. I am just blurting it out. This is not a fictional story. It’s one piece of my story. One glimpse in on the abuse I suffered in this case from a man who was my Master. This is not for the faint of heart.

Trigger Warning: Mental, physical, and sexual abuse. Rape, and mind games. 

As the world blurs around me. I hear his voice. It’s hot on my ear. My body goes numb, but it feels like I’m floating. When I open my eyes I realize I’m swimming with him. His body tangled into mine as we float. His words are soft and sweet at first. His touch gentle and sexual, but then his words grow dark.

He’s mad again. I said something wrong again. My body tenses as I try to pull away. This makes him more angry. He grabs my hair… he knows this is a trigger. I begin to flail and panic. He rips me back my body sinking under the water as I forget to swim. He wraps his hands in my hair keeping me under. I’m trying to fight the flash and him. I’m not a good swimming or fighter though. The water isn’t happy it begins to feel dark, but calming… like its trying to help. He screams out and releases me.

I manage to kick away and run, but he catches me on the Shore. We are completely alone. He grabs my hair again and knocks me down and is on top of me. His smile is wild and his eyes look mean. I feel him pressing against me and I cry. I know what he wants and I have no energy to fight him. He whispers, “I love you.” in my ear and I turn away the best I can. He growls it this time. I know if I don’t say it back whatever he plans won’t be pleasant. I didn’t care though.

I’d rather him kill me. I looked at him and whispered, “No you dont. This isnt love.” His eyes turn black as his fist raises up. It slams down a second later into the ground near my face. He’s careful not to mark me. He’s too smart for that. He begins screaming things like, “How can you say that?” “I do everything for you.” “How could you hurt me like this?” “How un grateful you are slave.” “No one else is going to take you” “Pathetic, worthless, good for nothing whore.” I’ve heard it all before. I close my tired eyes knowing what’s going to happen. He begins ripping off what little clothes I have….

I can’t breathe as he begins to caress my body. This is how it always starts. Soft and gentle… My body begins to react. I can’t stop it. He knows exactly how to play with me. I begin freely sobbing. There is no point to call colors, safeworss, or even say no. He’s ignored it before plus it makes him more angry. He begins telling me, “That he will prove he loves me.” “Look how your body is reacting whore” He slams his open palm down on my vagina. The pain screams through me, and instantly detaches. This is the way my body and mind try to protect 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.

 

Liar

I do not care if you think it will hurt me. I want the truth the raw pure truth. I have been lied to enough in the past. I don’t even like white lies though I will tolerate them to an extent.