trauma
At its core, trauma can be thought of as the psychological wounds that persist, even when the physical ones are long gone.
Still Dealing with the Loss
I was born in 1987 to two wonderful parents. They loved and cared for each other and we were all happy. 18 months later my sister was born, and then two years passed before my youngest sister was born. We moved a few times before settling in New York. Like most families, my parents had their issues and split for a while. Myself, my dad, and my youngest sister stayed in New York, while my mom and my middle sister went to Michigan for a while. I am unsure of how long had passed in between them splitting and eventually working it out, but we were all to meet in Maryland to get back together as a family. On December 26, 1991, my father received the most heartbreaking news possible—my mother had been in a car accident and was dead on arrival at the hospital. She was 22 years old, with a husband and three little girls. He made his way to Michigan for all the proper funeral arrangements and all, but was never the same after. My two younger sisters were too young to really know or understand what happened to our mother. It was not until I was 18 that I was finally given the accident report from that dreadful day. I, to this day, can still picture everything that I read in that report.
By Amber Consiglio7 years ago in Psyche
Interviews with a Big Black Broad: Sessions #7
Interviewer: When did you began to seek professional help to treat your BDD? BBB: I'm sure it's not surprising that I was reluctant. I was complacent in dealing with my issues on my own up 'til the age of 28. I hid from mirrors. I would dwell in front of mirrors. I took down mirrors. I put them back up. I spent all my money on food, alcohol, makeup, hair products and expensive girdles of all kinds. I hid from the world for days and weeks on end. I drank to endure those moments when I gave in to the mounting pressures I felt to rejoin the world even when I felt the worst about myself. The annoyance of having to deal with a disorder that caused me to focus so much on myself had also taken its toll on me. I wasn't a purposefully vain person. I wasn't someone who would choose to be so self-consumed. I wanted to travel the world. I loved people and wanted to meet more of them from all walks of life. I didn't want to assume that everyone who stared at me only did so because they saw someone ugly. I needed the courage to live the life I ultimately wanted. How could I live any longer without being able to face myself in the mirror? Without being able to leave my house without being inebriated in some way? So, I faced the fact that I would remain stuck in the same positions in my life (literally) if I didn't at least try professional help.
By Anarda Nashai7 years ago in Psyche
Religion Trauma Syndrome
This is something you should think about before letting your children go to just any church... I was raised in a Pentacostal/Holiness/Apostolic church that was named as non-denominational. I was lied on, mentally and physically abused. Even sexually used at one point, nothing was ever done about any of these things because "God had a plan for their life."
By Catrina Palko7 years ago in Psyche
Assault- Invasion of My Person
Working as a private music teacher you get to know most of the people you work with very well because you see them one on one, every week. Music is a very personal and emotional process so when you are working with someone in that arena you tend to forge a bond.
By Nocturne Cadence7 years ago in Psyche
Trauma
I had been molested by my father and grandfather for as long as I could remember. My Father would kiss me in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable, he would do things like putting my foot in his mouth, he made me feel horribly uncomfortable all the time. My grandfather would walk around the house completely naked. His reasoning was that when he was little he had to have surgery and the whole time he was in the hospital he didn't have to wear clothes, and since then that's how he's most comfortable. He didn't care if I was there, or if my step-siblings were there, or if my cousins were there. And he knew I was uncomfortable and didn't like it. I would tell him that constantly and he would just say things like, "but you used to like looking at my penis" or he would tell me, again, about his reasoning for doing it. He never stopped when I asked him to. I also have vague memories of my grandfather making me extremely uncomfortable on car rides when he would come to pick me up, but I don't remember any more than that. I know there was a lot more that happened that I don't remember.
By Mariah Kelley7 years ago in Psyche
Interviews with a Big Black Broad: Session #4
Interviewer: How did your collegiate aspirations relate to your experience with BDD? BBB: Before I begin, I should to warn you that this may be the most bizarre coming of age story you've ever heard. I chose a difficult major in college for two reasons: It was revered as prestigious and lucrative, and I was told that once I graduated from all those years of rigorous study, I would have little to no time for a social life while I practiced my trade. I wanted a career that would keep me so busy that I had no time to dwell on my awful appearance. I also wanted a preoccupation that would provide an understandable reason for why I had no time for romantic relationships—why I would never have children. My plan was to strictly focus on my studies, after which, I'd rely on my friends to satisfy whatever social needs I had. I loved to laugh and discuss politics, philosophy and art. So, I targeted those who majored in these subjects to help me indulge my interests when I wasn't studying my more conservative curriculum. Perhaps every now and then, I would enjoy a casual tryst or two if I was feeling up to it. I'd be a workaholic socialite from now on, I thought. Without time to focus on myself—to obsess over my ugliness, I could avoid what I referred to as "The cloud," which were my severely depressed episodes. My new distractions worked to steady my moods and lessen my obsessions. My grades were almost perfect. I'd even managed to acquire a small but well-coveted grant from the university strictly based on my academic merit. There are ugly people all over the world who are very prosperous, I thought. I studied the careers of very successful, powerful men who were also practicing the trade within the field I was studying. Most of them were single, with few or no children, and no one seemed to criticize their life choices. They weren't stigmatized for not living a conventional life. They were celebrated as playboys in fact. This was one of several observations that solidified my decision to become a playgirl. I could be satisfied with just a great career and friends. No husband. No children. I couldn't really conceive of living what all the other girls had coveted since holding their first doll baby: A "normal" life.
By Anarda Nashai7 years ago in Psyche
