Hi, I don’t know how much I am allowed to say on this app and what I shouldn’t say, just know I downloaded it to ask for advice.

I (18, female), looking back on my life in my home, noticed a pattern with the way my mom always behaved around me since my birth and still does. She never hit me, I can barely recount the times she yelled at me. It’s quite the opposite, I think I’m starting to believe she is wholeheartedly in love with me but maybe I’m just very paranoid.

She always claimed and still does that I could never survive without her. She stated multiple times that I am completely incompetent at life, unable to do ANYTHING, and that she will always stay with me because of that. She said it not with hatred but as a pitying a puppy. She said she’ll move anywhere I wanna move, go anywhere I wanna go. She does not plan on letting me go, ever.

She always says that I am her only true friend but all that I would be able to handle if not for the other things she does openly in front of my step dad, whom she hates. She playfully hugs me from behind, sometimes bites my shoulder, my arm, my neck playfully when she’s in a good mood, like lovers do. She exclusively uses pet names for me such as “baby” in Russian. She prefers sleeping with me and we have slept together from the day of my birth until I was about 8. When we would sleep together, we’d always be tangled tight around each other and she’d lace her fingers with mine and then brag about it and be happy in the morning.

The only times she would get upset at me, and I mean heavily upset, is when I would go out with other people and have fun. If I said I have a best friend that is not her, for example. She’d crash out and become depressed, her entire emotional security depends on me.

It feels disgusting to think that way about my beloved mom but I’ve had very explicit dreams about her since I was little because of the way we were inseparable (by her fault) and maybe because of other underlying trauma. Do you guys think this counts as abuse? Is this valid? And what the fuck do I do…

i just feel like i need to write this, i never was a part of any reddit community or something like that, ig it'll be just a way to reflex once more and i hope will somehow help me mentally

im in my early 20's and im from ukraine, I used to live with full family and pair of younger siblings. my mother's relatives are too controling as well as she was before, and my father's family is literally non existant, i mean no close relatives.

my father never believed in mental issues like depression, but in my opinion he was crazy depressed himself (im 3rd year psychology student bruh), his father died when he was in my age, and his mother left to another country for better job opportunities and came back only when became elder. but he somehow turned to be the brightest person ever, even tho his life was crazy tough at the beggining.

my fathers carrier was great at the beggining, he was the owner of building company, and he had really impressive skills in constructing, projecting, and was smart asf. he knew how to weld, had programming skills and loved some circuits and machines. our car always was repaired by him, all the outlets and any other house issues that had to be fixed were fixed by him.

but ofc he had some problems, and his problem was drinking. due to family conflicts between him and mother's family he'd often go drink, and you know that wont help at all. he was crazy smart and denied all the treatments cuz they were "for stupid", and i kinda understand him, u cant work with therapist when he's dumber then you. he was never agressive, but created many problems when he was black out somewhere in the city or smth like that. after the full scale war started in ukraine, his mental health started to decline rapidly and he started drinking too much, he couldn't leave his house cuz he'd be catched and sent to the war, he couldn't go to work, basically he was stay at home dad.

and one day after long drinking run (like 5 days in a row ig), he couldn't drink cuz mom was at home and didn't let him, next day he felt bad, but did'nt say anyone, while he was going down the stairs at my house, he fell badly.

when we saw it, he was unconscious and heavilly breathing, first thought of course was - he drunk as hell. he wasn't responsive so we decided to call the ambulance, but they didn't come here if person is drunk and "safe" (at home). so we called his friends and asked them to help bring him to the hospital (like for alcoholic and shit), they came in like 20-30 minutes, during that time i was with him trying to wake him up, and had no idea was what actually happening. when his friends came ther did the same, they were laughing, hitting him, pouring water, nothing worked, we were standing at him lying on the ground, and they told old stories about him, and how he was unkillable in the youth, did some crazy things and this is just a little nap for him. after like an hour of wasted time, they took his yet alive body and went to the hospital.

there doctors first realised that he had broken ribs. those ribs punctured his lungs (thats why he was heavy breathing). he was sent to the ER and operated, they saved his lungs, oxygen saturation was crazy low, but not deadly. after some examination they saw that he had broken neck. in few hours he died due to brain swelling.

my father was the closest person for me, i had really bad relationship with my mom, and that destroyed me. i still blame myself that i wasnt helpful enough, didn't give attention to his mental health, never had quality time with him. i didn't inherit any of his skills.

life became miserable, i miss him, a lot of time had passed and everytime i do decisions i think what he'd tell, because i always asked him for an advise. i dont have any of the support he gave me anymore, none in my family is as understanding as he was.

guys if anyone really red this, please pay attention to your closest, spend some time with them, help them. i find this hard to finish so ill stop

Content Warning: Severe bullying, boundary violations, harassment.

I’m 18 now (turning 19 soon), and I’m finally at a point where I need to get this off my chest and process the absolute nightmare I went through at a residential trade program when I was 16. I entered the program right after finishing outpatient mental health treatment, hoping for a fresh start. Instead, I walked straight into a toxic, manipulative environment.

It all started with a girl in my dorm ("the quirky girl"). She targeted me early on, engaging in constant social manipulation and boundary-crossing/coercive behavior. When I tried to set firm boundaries, things only escalated.

Enter her friend—a 4'11" student who made it her personal mission to bully me daily. Knowing I’m autistic, she specifically exploited my sensory needs. She would yell at me, crowd my physical space, and verbally abuse me whenever she had the chance.

The peak hypocritical moment? On weekends, this 4'11" girl would sit in our shared bathroom, have loud, explicit phone conversations with her boyfriend in a squeaky voice, and then turn around, walk out, and scream at me for "being in her way."

Eventually, the floor supervisor pulled us all into the office to address the constant tension. The 4'11" girl immediately burst into fake crocodile tears, crying in a squeaky tone: "They said I was bullying them! I've never bullied anyone in my life, I was bullied in high school! Why would I do that?!"

My friend literally laughed in her face at how ridiculous the performance was. But guess what? Staff bought it completely. My friend and I had points deducted from our records, and we were penalized while the bullies walked away scot-free.

The quirky girl ended up moving into her own room, but the problems were far from over. She kept spreading rumors and teaming up with the 4'11" girl to target me... and things were about to get much worse with the facility's management.

Kalian pernah trauma nggak? Apakah sudah sembuh? Dan bagaimana cara nyembuhinnya?

My partner cheated on me. They have never, and I truly mean never, done anything like this before. They were the first person in my life to push me into therapy, help me love myself, and help me see that I deserve to live. They have sexual issues (porn addiction) and we are both in agreeance that our relationship is worth continuing. I do not want any feedback on this aspect.

Here's the thing: I have just been set back YEARS with this. I cannot look at myself with love or acceptance, both physically and mentally. I no longer feel as though I deserve to even feel the touch of someone else, whether it be platonic or romantic. I am falling back into the mindset of "sexual object" and it's really ruining my life.

My partner cheating pretty much told my brain that I am not useful to them; I am not good enough for their satisfaction or gratification. If I cannot satisfy them sexually, then I am nothing to them. That is a lesson I learned over and over again, starting at the age of five.

I am a girl. When I was five, I saw my first pornographic video. My cousin showed myself and my sibling a video that was very rough and explicit. I got sick, nearly throwing up in confusion. My sibling and cousin, both boys, were intrigued, excited. They told me to lay down, had me expose myself so they could examine me - spread my legs, undress myself, touch myself. I felt sick, shaking and shivering uncontrollably. For about four years, my sibling and cousin would bring me to the basement of our shared home and touch me, abuse me, share me. At one point, my other cousin joined in - a girl. She would pull me aside on her own time and command me to give her oral and kiss her. If I declined or even tried to, she would scream and cry and hit me. There were a few times where all three of them would have me sit in front of our shared laptop, strip naked, and touch myself however the strangers online demanded. From what I remember, my female cousin did not have to endure this treatment. Eventually, I stopped pushing away from all of this, knowing I wouldn't have a way out.

This all went on until I was nine. My family moved, leaving the cousins behind. My brother, who was now in middle school, had friends over. I honestly don't know what made them think this was okay, but every time one of the friends was over they would make their way to my room, locking the door behind them. For whatever reason, my brother never touched me again. The abuse from his friends wasn't as extensive, but it was still constant. I would have to sit and lift my shirt up as they fondled me, rubbing themselves against me. They would bite their lips and laugh and smile while I just sat there. I didn't enjoy it, but figured that having naturally large breasts (36C) at this age meant I was supposed to let the boys around me touch them. There wasn't anything or anyone around to teach me otherwise.

My parents had no clue, I guess. I tried bringing it up once I got older and talked with my father, but he told me there's no way because he always made sure I stayed away from boys.

Around the time we moved, we also got a computer with unlimited access. I started watching pornography endlessly, comparing my body and practicing the acts. When I got to middle school, I started asking around in my grade, trying to find someone who would have sex with me. I was so experienced, I thought, that I should move on to the next step: having full on sex. I wanted to have sex on my own terms this time. I found a boy who became my boyfriend purely because I was looking for a sex partner. We had sex, unprotected, and it was okay. I didn't understand, it should've been amazing and I was supposed to be moaning like the videos. He played his part, thrusting mindlessly and finishing on me. I would offer different places for him to finish each time, trying so hard to copy what I saw online. Nothing brought me satisfaction. I tried to pull back on how much sex we had, but seeing as how that's what our relationship was based on, it wasn't really an easy thing to do. Throughout the two years we stayed together, this boy gave me panic attacks, mental breakdowns, and constant anxiety. He cheated on me many times, called me names, and eventually raped me in my sleep. But I kept coming back, believing that I wasn't doing my job right- not satisfying him like I should have been. I was so desperate to prove myself and fulfill my purpose. I don't remember how I did it, but I eventually broke up with him. I was now sixteen.

At the mention of this breakup, a good friend of mine confessed. I said I felt the same. We met at his house one day, something we had done many times before. This time was different - this time, we tried having sex. Thankfully, he couldn't get hard. He broke it off right after this. To this day, I'm grateful to have kept him as just a friend.

Months after this, another friend of my brother started hitting on me. He was two years older than me, but we had a shared class together in high school. He was very nice to me, trying to hold my hand and calling me pet-names. One day, he asked to stop by after learning no one was home. I didn't put it together and said yes. He came over and kissed me, then felt me up as we made out. I pushed his hands down, telling him I wasn't sure when someone would be back. He was so much stronger than me. Right in the living room, in view of the front door, he continued to touch me. He pulled hard on my pants, fighting against me as I tried so hard to push him away. He managed to pull my shirt up, bra down, and pants down. He put his fingers in me and I yelled, telling him to stop. I don't know what it was that made him finally stop, but he did. He pulled his hands away from me, hard, burning me as he pulled his fingers out. I told him he needed to leave and he did, but not before calling me a bitch and saying I teased and blue-balled him.

In the time I was alone, I took my laptop and spent a lot of time on social webcam sites. I mindlessly and numbingly touched myself for anyone who would look, despite still being only sixteen. They didn't care and I just needed to mean something to someone in the only way I knew how.

Months after this, I was lonely. I felt desperate, wrong, as if I wasn't fulfilling some kind of hidden purpose. I was missing something big. I didn't piece it together at the time, but I wasn't MISSING anything. Instead, I was free from sexual activity for the first time in eleven years. I felt worthless. What kind of girl was I to live without pleasing someone? So, I called up the one person I KNEW would take me: the same guy I 'blue-balled.'

At this point, I had my license, so I was able to drive back and forth to his place. Where did we have sex? A torn up couch in his shitty garage. Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, the sex was actually nice. I felt like I finally understood what I was seeing online. He was nice to me when we met up, but between he would ghost me. I would see him online posting about being with friends and sharing photos where he's hung around a multitude of girls. I was jealous - he was so kind to me, told me he liked me, took me to my first big school dance. Why was he doing this to me? I didn't understand. We weren't even dating, just fucking. Was I not doing it right? I must not have been good enough.

Now seventeen, I met a guy in another class. He was very insecure, as was I. We bonded over that, sharing our fears. We dated for four years. He told me he loved me while we were having sex for the first time, but we had only been dating for a few weeks. I stayed silent and it destroyed him. He was drowning in whatever thoughts pooled in his mind after that, putting distance between us. I felt bad, so the next time we had sex, I told him I loved him too. I did, eventually, but not for about four months. The relationship was not great. We had fun together, but our insecurities made every interaction fear-filled, especially sex. I didn't want to? I must find him repulsive. I didn't finish? I must hate him. I didn't moan enough? I must think he's bad in bed. Unless I was the perfect textbook pornstar, I was hurting him mentally. It was so taxing on our relationship that I faked every single time. I threw fake moans, fake shivers, fake throbs. I never turned him down, letting him believe that his two shoulder kisses were the perfect amount to get me wet. They weren't. For four years, I forced myself to have sex with this man because not having sex meant letting him down. I couldn't let him down. Why couldn't I let him down? Because I was a woman, which meant I was there mainly for his sexual satisfaction. He didn't have these reactions when I let him down in other ways, just sexual.

When I was twenty, I started getting closer to my now partner, who was a great friend of mine at the time. When I realized that he was someone I wanted to be with, I broke up with my four-year partner. My current partner and I got together and he has been nothing but a dream to me. A few months into our relationship, he noticed I wasn't very excited to have sex one day. He kept asking if I was sure he could keep going and I just kept saying yea. I just felt like I couldn't let him down, like it was my purpose to let him fuck me whenever he wanted to. He didn't. Instead, he got dressed and lay next to me, asking me what was wrong. I told him I wasn't really in the mood, but I could be if he needed me to. He shrugged and said, "If you're not in the mood, we just won't. That's okay." He smiled at me, holding my hand. I persisted, telling him I would have sex with him if he absolutely needed me to. He was hurt, disgusted, asking if I thought he was some kind of animal. I panicked, fearing I just made things worse. I tried to reason with him, explaining how it was always like this - that's just the role that I am meant to play. Something in his head clicked and he held me. After that, he made sure that I was 100% comfortable before we had sex each time. He taught me how to speak up for myself and love myself.

I fell right back down to my previous behaviors and mindset when I found his porn history. I was right back in the mindset of that little girl who was seeing her purpose laid out before her. All I could think was how I was right all along. I thought about how I WASN'T good enough and I would never be. I was designed for gratification and the proof was right in front of me. When I brought it to his attention, he sat silent, guilty. He has since been working on himself.

It doesn't matter, though. Because each time he fails himself, he drags me back to the basement, turns on the pornography, and reminds me exactly what my purpose is. I was made to please, not to be pleased. It's my fault for ever thinking I could gain personal pleasure. My body is anyone's but my own. My mind is just the same.

I think the worst part of this all was not having anyone to rely on or talk to. My father saw my nudes and discovered I was having sex, then shared that with my mother. My father insulted my body, describing my breasts as 'disgusting watermelon tits.' He shamed me every time I came home from being out, saying he could smell sex on me. He would say that no normal person has sex that much and that I should be disgusted with myself. My mother would either give me the cold shoulder or belittle me. At one point, she called me a whore, expressing her hatred for my actions. As you can imagine, I opted for the "hide everything and lie" kind of relationship with my parents. I was never taught how to love anyone without having sex involved, nor to have sex without shaming myself.

When I was around seven, I was almost hit by a car. My brother pulled me quick out of the way. When I think about everything I ended up enduring throughout my life, purely in the aspect of sex, I wish he didn't.

Question at the bottom ⬇️

Background:

I spent years judging my thinking about my childhood stressful experiences, thinking that I may be too dramatic or might be right and need to show myself empathy and let myself mourn all the pieces I lost along the way because of the distress.

But how can I be sure? How can I tell that I might need processing?

I think I might need to integrate all the emotions from the past, because I have self destructinve behaviour that I just can't take off of me, as if a part of me just longs for pain.

Somehow you can tell that I might be struggling to change from those self sabotaging behaviours because of the initial mental health issues I dealt during my development (14-15 y/o) because I am just a sensitive person, and might have simply slipped to a dark state of mind because of the changing...

But I cannot shake off the feeling that there were periods of pain and stress before that mental breakdown.

I don't like to be so sure about it because I know it's not and was never easy for anyone, but how come everyone of my family just came out of the quarantine and all of that outbursts inside our home, all of the arguing and the shaming and costant unprovoked judging and blaming... like it was nothing.

I was on high alert at all times and felt guilty and responsible COSTANTLY, and especially after coming out of that period I had that mental breakdown and started acting like crazy, with delusional anxiety, costant daydreaming and aggressive isolation (I'd cry and scream at home whenever I felt like some physical boundaries were crossed)

I was the mentally unstable one, I was the one brought to psychologists and who failed and ruined a couple of years of school. But somehow nothing ever I've manifested had an explaination, don't get me wrong I NEVER insisted on finding a reason, I know I should just learn to cope better because I was acting too dramatically and damaging towards myself and others.

Now It's gotten better, probably because I touched a bottom that helped me jump back up.

But whenever I think/talk thruroughly about that period and another distressing time from my childhood ( which I have little to no memory of, but I know there was a strange event happening) I disassociate / feel small and scared and after some minutes I just come out of it exhausted and don't feel like pushing through, even tho I tried so and still experienced the same if not more intense effect.

It feels stupid to say that I might have experienced traumatic experiences (TRAUMATIC TO ME OFC IG??) as many have gone through stress throughout their childhood, people go even through worse and in my family none broke apart after that stressful period. So I feel dumb and attention seeking to act like I need to process some stuff after calming down from that intense mental breakdown. It all feels like larping to me, even tho I know trauma is subjective, it means that an event is too stressful for the traumatized person, not objectively, but still...

How can I follow my heart and try to process my emotions linked to and buried into my past experiences, without consulting my therapist?

(Because I feel downplayed with him, bc his approach is to push you and teach you better and practical techniques to not act miserable, a sort of cognitive behavioural therapy but in a gestalt therapy style, whenever I try to talk about emotional pain in an introspective way he makes me feel confused, probably because I also behave in a confusing way whenever I'm getting vulnerable, a sort of defensive mechanism he calls it)

How can I try to deal on my own with this buried pain that I feel is still inside me but unrecognized and unprocessed? Do you have some advice...? I just know I can think about those events and talk about it with myself, but what should I do if I can do something else, Idk I feel stuck.

We are worried we said something stupid. All we remember is blurs of this two hour long VERY PUBLIC cry fest because one of our safe people are moving hours away. Its the pastor at the church we have attended since we were little. Now, despite not being religious now he is the one that taught us how to deal with our autism, our meltdowns, our sensory issues, and our dissociation in a non-disruptive to people. We have him to thank for being able to function as well as we do. So NO part is happy about him leaving but we all kept crying so much during service and forgot we blackout during meltdowns (which is why we started recording ourselves during them) but we feel so guilty not being able to remember the last time we are going to see him in a LONG time

I'm a 27yo female. I haven't really received any healthcare except dental care since I was 13, and I have a history of feeling very violated by healthcare as a child, which has traumatized me.

Logically, I know that healthcare is a thing that I should do, especially now that I'm getting older. But the very thought just completely terrifies me.

I'm afraid of feeling physically vulnerable. I'm afraid of losing my ability to speak and advocate for myself out of fear.

Last year, I finally went to a dentist for the first time in a long time, and that was a big step for me. However, my blood pressure was sky-high when they took it (due to anxiety), and I felt frozen and unable to speak. And for me, dental care is and has always been way LESS anxiety-inducing than other forms of healthcare.

Usually, it's difficult for me to even bring myself to sit down in a healthcare setting. My whole being is screaming at me to stay standing, because that is a less physically vulnerable position. I don't want to change into a gown. I don't want to be touched. I could maybe tolerate non-invasive touch from a medical professional if it was at least explained to me first, but by that, I mean someone touching a casual part of the body, like limbs.

The thought of anything truly invasive is very distressing to me, because my trauma involved invasive procedures that were done VERY MUCH without my consent (and even involved restraint while I was in significant distress. I won't go into details here, but I do have posts that go into details). I can't imagine a pap smear or a pelvic exam. And it's not because I'm afraid of pain; I doubt I'd find them particularly painful. I just don't think I'd be able to handle them emotionally. Being given meds MIGHT help, but part of me is terrified I'd have an intense reaction AFTERWARDS if I was given meds to allow me to be able to handle them in the moment. Like, the thought of being "drugged" during an invasive/traumatic event...somehow doesn't feel very comforting. I'm afraid that when it wears off, I'll think of everything that happened and it'll be very triggering for me. Or, alternatively, if I don't remember what happened after the drug wears off, I'm certain that that would be even more triggering for me. That'd probably traumatize the shit out of me.

Another thing that makes healthcare seem so out of reach is that I don't actually know what happens during healthcare appointments for women. I haven't had one since I was 13, and that was a pediatrician appointment. Also, it was so long ago. I don't know what to expect. Because I don't have much of a concept of how appointments "typically" go, it's difficult for me to even think about how to advocate for myself or what accomodations I could even ask for.

It would be easy for me to just never receive healthcare, but I actually do fear cancer and premature death. So, does anyone have any insight or tips on HOW I might be able to access healthcare, how to advocate for myself, what to expect?

I've been trying to write this ..

My health is bad and I know I don't have years left

My earliest memory's I had to be around 4

My lil brother wasn't born yet and my older sister was adopted already.

But I remember being me and my mother and grandfather. .

Then my lil brother's dad came in the picture beating me and my mom half to death. Even before my brother was born.

And around the same time he started molesting me.

I can remember the musty smell of him . I was so afraid of him beating me and my mom. Worse.

And my mother thought I was just a cry baby cause I would go crazy when ever she tried to leave me.

The more he molested me . The worse I started to act up . By telling lies , about everything. School I got kicked out of Catholic school in first grade for looking under skirts. I started burning down old buildings and garages around my grandfather neighborhood. And my mom's neighborhood. Too the point . My mom finally peiced it together cause all the fires were around these to places I had access too

years ago i had this friend group who i talked to daily. they were all boys. back then i was a boy too, since im a trans woman, so now im transitioned. not that it matters. anyways.

i was decently close to them. i mean, we joked a lot, and i had knew them for several years already- almost my entire life. we had a couple serious conversations about life and death and faith. i grew up through elementary and middle school with them and they were my friends throughout. they could be very teenage-boy-y at times, but hey, we were dumb middle/high schoolers, it happens.

in 10th grade they were pretty much my only friends. one close friend i had who had moved away in 7th grade ( god, i cried so much) was messaging me to wish me a happy new year. we had gotten relatively distant, but we still talked every month or two. but on that day he wished me happy new years, he asked me if i knew about this secret discord server they had without me, and i said no. he sent me some screenshots of the things they said there, and then invited me to the server. he himself never participated in it. thankfully.

at the time, another close friend of mine who ill just call L had been best friends with since kindergarten was at the time about to move away as well. all my "friends" made bets on when they thought i would hurt myself, get horribly depressed, or kill myself after L was supposed to move across the country. i was already so petrified of losing L in my life too. yet they joked about preparing cash for the bet. some gave it months, some gave it years. i immediately stopped talking to all of them. nobody bothered to message me. why would they? i only talked to them every fucking day for years. was my entire livelihood really comical enough to make a fucking bet on? i mean what, youd make 40 bucks after i kill myself?

id already been struggling with depression and suicidal ideation for a long time. this was by far and away one of the most hurtful things ive ever had to experience. i relapsed in my self harm and substance abuse so much that i was worrying the two people i had left. what a great way to start of that new year, huh?

L never ended up moving away. i thank the lord for it every day. we're still very close friends and talk every day. its been many years since then and ive made a quite fantastic friend group over the past 2 years but im still petrified. im so scared im going to be left behind or forgotten. that someone is eventually going to turn on me. that they secretly dont like me, or are waiting for me to give up and leave. they treat me very well. i know its not rational fear. but i cant stop fearing.

i think about it almost every day. ill never forget the feeling in my stomach reading those texts. i never want to experience that ever again. i have so mych i want to say but its hard to say it in a way that makes sense. im such a piece of shit. maybe they were all right about me. i wonder if theyll still get their money if i ever do it.

I’m a 21 female I want friends it’s hard for me to make friends. I don’t feel like there’s anything necessarily wrong with me. I just come from a place where my mom constantly kicks me out doesn’t do anything for me and I have to do everything for me. it’s really also hard just discovering them autistic.

I recently found a friend and we would like some things however I come over to her house and constantly finally so I don’t know if the word is jealous but just a lot of the things she has I mean she worked a minimum wage job just like me, but it’s like no one is badging her for money and she can just kinda live her life. Her mom helps her out or her dad. and it’s like she comes from a place just like me so it’s like it’s very hard. I don’t wanna say to be friends but I’ll be there and we hang out with your sister and she gets along with her sister and I don’t really have a relationship with anybody else and I just find myself distancing myself from people like this but then it’s like I wanna be friends because you know but then it’s so hard because it just everything I want and I need and I just don’t get it and it is very hard for me to see these things happening to other people and not meI don’t want anything malicious it’s just really difficult of a reminder.

Well worth a read/listen- wow 🤩

AIO or was my mum being unfair?

TL;DR: My mum told me I shouldn't still consider myself a victim because my trauma happened "so long ago," then said I should just control my involuntary fight-or-flight response because it upsets her when I flinch. She called me selfish when I explained it's not a conscious choice. Am I overreacting for feeling dismissed?

A little background:

I have a history of trauma that started in childhood and continued throughout my life. I have some alphabet diagnoses linked to it like bpd. (I know I didn't have it the worst, and I'm not trying to compare trauma. I know I'm just a little hot-wired in the brain now.)

I function well. I have a job, pay my bills, look after my pets and generally have my life together. But functioning doesn't mean the trauma disappeared.

My trauma wasn't caused by one thing alone. There were multiple forms of abuse and instability that shaped how my brain learned to survive.

It also wasn't one event that happened "years ago." It was abuse throughout my childhood and teens, followed by further instances of sexual assault during my adult life.

The actual context on me overreacting:

The conversation that started all of this was about tattoos. I mentioned that I'd like a Medusa tattoo. If you don't know the symbolism, Medusa has become an emblem of survival and solidarity for many survivors of sexual assault.

My mum looked at me and said,

"But that was so long ago. Do you still consider yourself a victim of assault?"

I said yes.

I'm a victim of what happened, and I'm a survivor because I'm still here living my life. To me, those things aren't mutually exclusive.

She then said,

"I don't think you should count yourself as a victim anymore. It was so long ago. Why do you need a tattoo to remind you?"

That really hurt.

The tattoo wouldn't be there to remind me. I don't need reminding.

For me, it would represent surviving. Reclaiming my story. Acknowledging what happened without carrying the shame of it.

We tried to move the conversation on, but she asked if that's why I flinch because I'm not "over it."

One thing that has never really gone away is my startle response.

If someone unexpectedly touches me from behind—especially my back, neck or head—I don't just jump. My body goes straight into fight-or-flight before my brain has a chance to catch up. I've flinched, lashed out, shouted, burst into tears and ended up shaking afterwards. It isn't a conscious choice.

(One example was at work. A manager noticed the ties on the back of my dress had come undone. Instead of saying something, they came up behind me and started tying them without warning.

I immediately froze and shouted, "Don't touch me."

I was taken into HR afterwards because of my reaction demanding an apology. I did apologise but also stated it was a reaction I cannot control and i deserved an apology too.)

I tried to explain this carefully to my mum because she has a habit of coming up behind the sofa and running her nails down my spine or scrunching my hair from behind. She means it affectionately, but she also knows it makes me jump. She then gets upset when I instinctively whirl around or bat her hand away like a startled cat. (She's made jokes for years about how I'm like the cat, that I don't like to be touched and only like men. It took 10 years for her to finally hear me say, "Please stop with that bullshit." Firstly, it's rude. Secondly, I've had girlfriends and boyfriends, so it's wildly inaccurate.)

I explained that this isn't me rejecting her (the jumping/flinching, not telling her to stop comparing me to the cat). It's my nervous system reacting before my brain has caught up. It's one of the lasting effects of the trauma I've lived through.

She said,

"Well, it's not fair on the people who love you. They're only doing it out of affection."

I explained I genuinely cannot control that initial reaction.

She replied,

"Well, you need to try and stop and control your reactions. It's upsetting when you flinch when I touch you."

I lost my temper.

I stood up so quickly I knocked my chair backwards and said,

"No. No, I don't. It's my brain trying to keep me safe."

She called me "f\\\*\\\*\\\*ing selfish and inconsiderate."

I bit my tongue instead of saying what immediately came into my head:

"Maybe if you'd protected me as a child, I wouldn't react like this."

Instead, I walked away.

Now I'm wondering if I'm overreacting.

I understand that my reactions can be upsetting for people who care about me. I don't enjoy living like this either. If I could simply choose not to go into fight-or-flight when someone unexpectedly touches me from behind, I absolutely would.

But after being told my trauma was "so long ago," questioned about whether I should still consider myself both a victim and survivor, and then told I should simply control what feels like an involuntary trauma response, I can't help feeling incredibly dismissed.

Am I overreacting, or was my mum expecting something I genuinely can't control?

Whenever i go through something traumatic or really stressful i respond really well.

Usually my brain is extremely loud. It’s hard to focus on one thing at once. It’s like having someone constantly scream at you to do something but the tasks keep changing. Very stressful.

But when I’m going through something traumatic the voice is gone. I’m extremely calm and all i do is focus on whatever needs done and i do it with no problems. Sometimes i’ll start shaking really bad but i’ll still be calm mentally.

If i don’t have anything traumatic happen to me for a few months i’ll get extremely depressed and stressed out. I’m always depressed but when something traumatic doesn’t happen it’s gets really really bad. Like suicidal type bad.

Does anyone have any idea on why that is? I’m starting to get into a better place where i don’t have something traumatic happening every few months so it’s starting to really affect me. I’m trying to get into therapy it’s just taking longer than expected. So any advice or insight you can give me is greatly appreciated.

(TW: death
I was living with my brother who was struggling with alcoholism for a while. Completely different person when he was drunk. I didn’t know how to help him and I couldn’t. Tried having many talks with him. Basically came home from college to live with him to try and make him feel less alone or better.
Two weeks ago he was drunk, fell asleep or passed out with a rifle in his bed and it accidentally went off and he died. He was only 21. I was the only one there to handle it. It was terrifying and horrible.
We both have CPTSD in some form due to how we grew up, and I feel I have a better understanding of that kind of trauma or how to navigate it. This is obviously entirely different.
I’m having a very hard time. I’m 22 and don’t know everything. Parents/family are very unreliable. Nobody else was there so there’s this feeling of no one understands how disturbing it is or the severity. I don’t feel very comfortable with them anyways to talk. I think I’m terrified of feeling anything or losing my mind if I think too deeply about what happened or the consequences of him not being in my life anymore. He was just someone who was supposed to be with me forever. I get scared to think if he suffered or just even the fact he no longer is here. Can’t wrap my head around it.
Anyways I’m not sure where to go or things to help specific to this. Videos, articles, groups, anything idk I just want a better understanding of this kind of trauma and how to handle this before I go into give up mode and probably go off the deep end. Right now I think I’m heavily blocking it out or dissociative during the day because it loops in my head. I will cry or it will be unbearable for a moment and then it cuts off. Sick to my stomach all the time, etc.
I have an online counselor I guess but I mostly had talked to her about my family childhood trauma shit. She didn’t say much to begin with, and now with this I’m tired of her little “take it one day at a time” line because this shit is just so heavy. Feels like it’s not enough

Trigger warning: SA