trauma

At its core, trauma can be thought of as the psychological wounds that persist, even when the physical ones are long gone.

Program Kid
It’s been more than 15 years since I was kidnapped in the middle of the night and imprisoned by my parents in a school called Academy at Ivy Ridge, in Ogdensburg, NY. I was there for 19 months.
By Cynthia Vergara5 years ago in Psyche
My Beginning Trauma and PTSD
My life hasn’t ever been easy, I’ve been thinking about my life choices and how they led me down this path of self destruction and everlasting relapse. Sometimes I wonder if I can ever stay clean or if I enjoy the madness of it all too much to try. I don’t want to justify the use of drugs, but I continue to try and convince myself that it helps me balance out my messy brain so I can feel the slightest bit of emotion. The last few years I’ve watched myself fall into addiction further then I’ve ever gone before. I feel lost and alone, isolated away from the world because I’m an unstable addict that cannot seem to get my shit together. The only time I feel like I can is when I’m high, the only time I can think clearly and make a clear plan is when I’m high which has led me to what I’m about to write about my life in this book I’ve convinced myself to write so here’s my story I’ll start at the beginning so you can understand how addiction took over my entire life. My earliest memories as a child revolved around drugs, and my father beating my mother daily while strung out on meth. My brothers and I lost our mother to drugs shortly after she left us with the monster she loved. She was found dead in a motel room in Stockton California when I was two years old. My father pushed her out of our lives and took a very important piece of my life from me due to his narcissistic personality. He took her to court for custody claiming to be a victim to her addiction but failed to mention that he took part in that personally. He was cooking and selling meth all over Stockton countless times I remember him dragging me by my arm to go sell his drugs walking so fast my feet would be pulled out from under me. This would make him very angry, he would yell and curse at me to get up, run, walk faster. That happened many times in my childhood. Not only did he remove her permanently from out lives but, he also removed the very few memories we even had by shedding every picture of my mother Nellie and selling everything she owned to his druggy friends things that were promised to be mine once I was old enough to be given her possessions. After she died things began to change drastically he became abusive to my brothers and myself. Once she died he lost his punching bag and resorted to us mainly me, he never loved me he has proven that time and time again my little brother Ryan was extremely neglected he was only eight months old when she died. I remember the funeral being very confusing everyone was crying except my dad he stood in the very back filled with rage as we got to view her body before she was put to rest. My Aunt Cindy and Uncle Vince told us she was sleeping with tear filled eyes expecting us to believe their lies. We all got into the limousine watching as everyone grieved it seemed like time went by slowly, when we finally pulled into St.Josephs Cemetery to watch as my Uncles Edward, Vince, Floyd, and Euel carried her casket from the Hearst to this huge hole in the ground next to my grandfathers headstone.
By Abrasive209bunny5 years ago in Psyche
My Three "Fathers"
I know what you're thinking. Claiming to have 3 dads seems kinda fake. Just a quick clarification before I get into the messy bits: none of them are gay, one was my biological father who I've never known, one was my sister's dad I grew up with until I was 6, and the final one is my current legal father. I only count one as my dad, and that's the last one.
By Kayleigh5 years ago in Psyche
Echo's of the past
Trigger warning abuse, mental health, narcissistic behaviours I used to think that because I was never physically hit, I was never abused and until the resurfacing of memories, I did not know that I was sexually abused either, nor did I comprehend that I have been emotionally and psychologically abused in a form all of its own.
By Saffiayh5 years ago in Psyche
One of Them
Warning this is a saddening monologue about homelessness. Viewer discretion is advised. Xavier is on the sidewalk with needles and litter surrounding him, he is holding a sign that says, “Please help.” He has a bandage on his hand. The sign is clearly written in his own blood. He is extremely dehydrated, pale and starving.
By Jack Kirwood5 years ago in Psyche
life after a traumatic event of an active shooter
I just moved to Florida and I started working for amazon in August 11th 2020, I worked nights cause I thought if I worked night I wouldn’t have to deal with people... well I was wrong big time, I was on my way to work on Oct. 3rd 202 and I stopped at a gas station to get petrol (Gas) in Lakeland Fl.. I started filling up my tank on my car.. I heard a lot of yelling and I looked around the corner near the pumps and I heard her yelling grab him she said to me to grab her bf because he was chasing the shooter that shot into a vehicle that had 8 people in it.. I had no idea what I just walked into... and I started checking on people seeing if there ok and a Girl was shot in the back... I have been trained for that type of situation but have never been in one till now.. it was really scary I had to miss work and answer questions from law enforcement... they couldn’t find the shooter and I hope that kid get thrown in Jail big time.. also I hope that girl who was shot is healing up and is ok... I didn’t get home till 7 in the morning because of what happened, I have a hard time going to gas stations because of what happened.. I don’t sit near windows nor my back to the door.. I don’t know why I do that now.. Lately I have been having nightmare about that whole ordeal.. I wake up in a sweat and breathing hard... I listen to classical music now and more because every time I hear a sound I go and investigate.. I wouldn't say I am paranoid but if you have ever been in that situation then you know where I am coming from.. I watch people’s hands and movements more than ever because of it... I check my surrounding a lot and my aunt thinks I am going crazy and she is like you are protected.. she has never been in that situation. but believe me if you have been in that situation how did it effect you???...
By Jessi Small- Price5 years ago in Psyche
My life story
This is how it began... I had always been a shy kid and that left me vulnerable. I’d let people walk all over me and I was too scared to stand up for myself. And that’s when it happened.
By Natalie5 years ago in Psyche
XYKOLOGY
”HELLO!” “WHO’S THERE?” “JAZIA” “WHO? I do not know no Jazia!” “Well I know you!” “Who and a what and how?” “Look. Listen. Feel.”
By Jazia Tara5 years ago in Psyche
I Wish I’d Never Been Born
Memories aren’t always good. The things I remember mostly were never good . Trauma embeds itself deep within your mind . It’s always there and until you figure out a way to let it go then it will remain there. When someone hurts you that’s suppose to love you , It causes you to question everything you know about love. I remember feeling real insecure, and timid when I was hurt the first time. A parent can do even more damage to their child just with the words they say above anything else . Bruises will eventually fade , but the words you say will last forever.
By Betsy Jane Hiatt5 years ago in Psyche
An Open Letter to My Family
Do you remember this little girl? This sweet girl who deserved love, who deserved to be cared for. This little girl who deserved to be protected. This little girl who grew up to have PTSD and anxiety and crippling mental issues because her family didn't protect her.
By Tawny Skye5 years ago in Psyche
The six stages
I grew up the youngest of a blended family, between my mom and dad it was just me, on my fathers side he has a daughter, my mother side she has a son and daughter making it four of us.
By SMc5 years ago in Psyche
Sharing My Experience
As a 19-year-old, I may not have as many stories as others sharing about their mental health. Unfortunately, my trauma started early, so early that I'm not even really sure when it started.
By Kayleigh5 years ago in Psyche