#emotional and psychological abuse

[iamtheracoonking]

If Asagiri doesn't give us a beach episode after this arc I'm suing him!

[awhitehead17]

Day by Day - Chapter 20

Chapter warnings!!! Minor panic attack; talk of emotional and psychological abuse from a parent; blackmail from a parent.

Chapter Preview:

Monday brings a whole new set of problems.

To start with there’s the bombardment of lectures surrounding the dreaded ‘finals’. Teachers are warning students how finals are coming up, how they’ll be here in no time at all, and how everyone should be putting together a study timetable so they’re prepared enough. It makes Tim want to repeatedly hit his head against his desk. He knows he’s not the only one.

Further drama to the school day increases when lunch time rolls around. Tim surrounds himself with his friends in the canteen at their usual spot, Bart is stuffing his face while Jamie looks disgusted by his behaviour and Tim is engaged with helping Greta understand her chemistry homework. Only Cassie is missing from the group, however it doesn't stay that way for long because commotion coming from the canteen entrance draws their attention and that’s where they find Cassie.

She’s currently in some kind of argument with Kon. She pushes him away and takes a couple steps towards their table before she’s stopped by Kon grabbing her arm and desperately trying to talk to her. Tim doesn’t catch what they’re saying but he can tell it’s not a pleasant conversation. Cassie is red in the face and her expression is screwed up in anger while Kon looks both desperate and miffed at the same time.

[missmin33]

More about Narcissistic Supply

More about Narcissistic Supply

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net/solargaria A friend of mine is currently going through a messy, painful divorce and property settlement with his indubitably narcissistic wife, soon to be blessed ‘ex’. He doesn’t feel ‘blessed’ yet, but God willing, he will in time. Last week, as I rallied in support of him with mutual friends, the question of whether or not his wife might already be…

[sheltiechicago]

A Visual Exploration Of Narcissistic Abuse And Recovery

Narcissistic abuse is a form of emotional and psychological abuse that is characterized by a pattern of manipulative and controlling behaviors, designed to undermine the victim's sense of self-worth and identity. It typically involves an abuser who seeks to gain power and control over the victim, often through tactics such as gaslighting, emotional manipulation, physical abuse, financial abuse, and verbal abuse. Narcissistic abusers may use tactics such as triangulation, blame-shifting, and projection to control their victims. The effects of narcissistic abuse can be long-lasting and damaging, including anxiety, depression, PTSD, and chronic pain.

Wild Empress

[sacrifical-lamb-core]

So like, I think that Jupiter wanted to kill jason as a child.

Eliminate the threat, this little child, before he grows up to eventually dethrone him. But Jason was needed for the quest, so he just settled with physical and psychological abuse instead :)

And when the quest was over, Jason was free to kill anyway, and I think Jason knew it.

He thought he could outrun it, he'd go to Camp Half Blood and attend like normal school. He wouldn't be a threat.

Bur he was from his birth and he died. He knew he was going to die.

[furiousgoldfish]

Abuse can sometimes feel like a slow, torturous deterioration of your sanity. You can't name what was done to you, you can't point out what anyone has done to hurt you, you can't prove to yourself that you're being abused. You instead feel like you might be going crazy. Like everything they're saying about you might be true and you can't get a hold of your senses or figure out what is going on.

And when it keeps getting worse, you hang onto every little thing trying to analyze if you're having the correct perception of it, trying to figure out if what you're feeling about it is rational or true. You don't know what's going on anymore but you know something is wrong deep inside of you and it's harder and harder to exist, to experience anything. Your every experience becomes a mass of uncertainty, doubt, questions, endless analysis, and you still don't know what is right, what you're allowed to say, think, believe. You cannot state the facts, because you're not sure what they are. You're blind in a fog, unable to stop whatever is going on, unsure if you're being hurt, or if you're imagining it in your head.

There doesn't seem to be any way out. If you could only stop imagining it, stop going insane, but no matter how hard you try, your emotions go out of control, you feel like you're going to explode, you end up feeling helpless and ashamed. It feels like a descent into madness, you can't stop feeling like you've embarrassed yourself, done something wrong, had the wrong reaction to every event, ashamed of how others must see you as pathetic and crazy. It makes you want to hide from everyone forever, but the doubt and inability to see reality still follow you and drive you insane. You end up wishing you didn't exist because you can't even do that right.

This is what gaslighting does to you, and why it can be damaging and painful just to exist next to the people who have done that to you. Even if they don't do anything else to you, just being continuously gaslit about what did happen can make you feel like you're losing your mind, because you're trying to force yourself to emotionally experience a fictional reality that is super-imposed over the actual truth of what had happened. Your emotions are the result of the events that did happen, so they cannot change to correspond to the abuser's imagined, revised and fictional version. However, if you fail to force this process, the abusers will humiliate, degrade and psychologically attack your sanity, pressuring you to keep trying to change how you emotionally react to reality. No person can change that.

[rottenbutrecovering]

Mayhaps this is too hot of a take for this blog, BUT I'm tired of people being like "narcissistic abuse is an important label to me because it's the only thing that describes the form of abuse I was subjected to" Then they describe their abuse and it's emotional abuse. Like we have a term for it. We have for like decades. I've yet to see any definition of "narcissist abuse" that does not also define emotional abuse and/or psychological abuse.

MY abuse fits the descriptions I've seen of "narcissist abuse", and that's because I was emotionally abused.

I do not understand why suddenly emotional abuse and psychological abuse have just seemingly dropped out of people's lexicon. (Well. I have my theory why. But that's a long post for another day).

[daughterofanarcissistwoman]

You won’t realize how much you were walking on eggshells until they’re not there anymore.

You won’t realize how silenced you were until you’re not being silenced anymore.

[healingchildhoodtrauma]

If you were emotionally neglected as a child you might think having a person obsessed with you will help fill that void for attention you never got. But what kind of attention is it? Is it nourishing attention? Usually it's about control, and they end up criticizing your every move. Remember, control reduces you to an object.

Respect > attention

[wiserebeltiger]

Small town America is a torture chamber

Parents move to small rural towns so they can have total control of their children.

Control their flow of information, isolate them, abuse them.

No friends, no boyfriend, no fun.

Police and school likely to ignore abuse, or be ill-informed about the signs.

Deny kids opportunities, and a life.

Most of the neighbors are just as shitty. Most of the kids you’re in school with are also isolated and clueless about how badly they’re being abused, how abnormal their home life is.

Effortlessly, the small town silences victims and keeps them imprisoned. Psychopaths are allowed to get away with bad behavior while the authorities turn a blind eye; here, more so than other places, the abuser is allowed to win; and this impresses on the victim that the victim always loses, a warped lesson that may fuck with their head for the rest of their life.

A horrid display of quiet, lock-tight order, small town America.

And all disguised with a wreath of nice foliage.

Here, do not expect reason to prevail. Do not expect the truth to out. Not until it is too late. Or until after you are gone.

[family-trauma]

This is a really good post differentiating the two instances of mental abuse - emotional vs psychological. I think I've experienced both numerous times to lose count of the instances.

[storytellerslense]

JJ Maybank character analysis

Luke Maybank and the unhealthy dynamics of parentification

What is parentification?

Parentification is a role reversal where parents are emotionally unavailable to provide support to the child typically due to their own problems often caused by alcohol or drug addiction or a mental illness. The child is forced to take care of themselves and take responsibility of the parent. Parents who are emotionally unavailable might also put down their children, contributing to a lack of self-esteem and increased stress for the child. This unavailability leaves the child without the necessary emotional guidance and stability.

The relationship between JJ and Luke Maybank

Luke is a single father. He is drinking and addicted to the prescribtion drug "Ambien", also known as a Z-drug. He is neglectful and abusive, failing to offer the emotional backing that JJ needs.

Luke Maybank is addicted to sedatives

Until about the third episode of the first season, we don't learn much about JJ Maybank's abusive family background. The first time we get a glimpse of his father is when Luke Maybank is exiting Barry's house, where he possibly went to get drugs or being involved in other shady activities. We also learn, that Luke Maybank lost his job at the salvage yard because he turned up drunk for work.

In Season 1, Episode 3, JJ Maybank and his friends visit the salvage yard to steal an underwater drone. During this scene, JJ concocts a lie about his father to distract the security guard, crying that his father "was gonna hit him again" if he wouldn't finish a certain task for him. The viewer is left wondering if there is some truth in his lie.

In Episode 5, father and son are on screen together for the first time in a dramatic scene, which intensity shocked many viewers. Beforehand, JJ Maybank was portrayed as funny, reckless and rebellious. There were no actual signs that he could have really been the victim of such vicious domestic violence as portrayed in this Episode.

In the scene Luke Maybank picks up his son JJ from the police station. As soon as they got into the car, Luke's entire rage is suddenly unleashed on JJ as he brutally beats him up. The mistreatment continues at home, where Luke verbally abuses his son mercilessly, possibly being under the influence of prescribtion drugs and alcohol. Meanwhile JJ locks himself in his bedroom. He is badly bruised and anxious, visibly traumatized and shaken by his father's actions.

"How you gonna get that money back, huh? By sittin' around doin' nothin'? I'm gonna tell you right now, you are a worthless piece of shit! Your Momma knew." (Luke Maybank, Season 1, Episode 5).

But physical abuse only being one possible hallmark of parentification. Parentification mainly involves overstimulation in parent-child interaction, where the focus is strongly on the parent's emotional needs. A strong indicator for JJ being parentified is, that he only feels valuable when fulfilling his father's needs. He really tries to please his father, desperately longing to "earn" just a small moment of parental kindness.

When he steals money from Barry's drug shack to pay for his restitution, he is even willing to jeopardize his friendship with the Pogues, just to fix things with his father.

At first, Luke gratefully accepts the money. JJ is shown beaming with relief and happiness over his father's praise and appreciation. But soon after Luke makes it clear that he doesn't want to use it for the restitution to help his son. He argues that the money was his to spend because JJ had already "cost him so much".

Luke instills guilt in JJ by blaming him for his misery (Season 1, Episode 7)

With that being said, Luke twists the fact that it is actually his paternal duty to provide for JJ's basic needs. Instead, he manipulates JJ by making him feel responsible for financial burdens, further solidifying JJ's role as a caregiver.

When JJ objects and takes his money back, his father beats him again. This time, JJ fights back, ultimately overpowering his father, pinning him to the ground. JJ is about to possibly hit and kill him with an object, but at the sight of his father being defeated he breaks down in tears, heartbroken and frustrated about his father's repeated rejection towards him and possibly feeling guilty and ashamed about having to defend himself like that against his own father. As JJ realizes how weak his father is, he might have also felt uncomfortable and confused with the sudden power he has over him. Notably, that particular scene also visualizes the unhealthy role reversal between father and son.

"You gave me nothing. You gave me nothing but a shitty life. All you ever did was try to scare me. But guess what? I am not scared of you anymore!" (JJ Maybank, Season 1, Episode 7)

The internal struggle between longing for parental affection and dealing with the reality of his father's behavior becomes clearer in Episode 10 when JJ tries to steal the key to Luke's boat, the "Phantom".

As JJ is about to take the key off his sleeping father, Luke surprisingly wakes up in a changed demeanor. He apologizes to his son, not without shifting part of the blame onto JJ, saying: "You remind me of your mother".

"I know I'm hard on you sometimes. But sometimes I see your mother in you. And it get's me a little tweaked, you know?" (Luke Maybank, Season 1, Episode 10)

Although Luke comes across sincere and apologetic in this moment, he actually refuses to take any responsibility for mistreating his son. Worse than that, he shifts the blame onto JJ's mere existence and heritage. This justification for his anger issues is another form of abuse and emotional manipulation.

Additionally to that, Luke Maybank repeatedly brings up JJ's missing mother and his frustration about her, with complete disregard for his son's feelings for her. He never considers whether JJ loved his mother, if he misses her, or if JJ himself is hurt or confused by her disappearance. He focuses only on his own pain and frustration, completely ignoring his sons feelings who must navigate complex emotions and family dynamics all by himself.

JJ finally accepts his father's attempt to hug him because he deeply craves for his approval and love. In doing so you can see him desperately trying to push down his emotions and unsuccessfully holding back his tears. The intimate moment is interrupted when Luke, under the influence of his drugs, collapses back on the couch sleeping, allowing JJ to think clearly again and finalise his mission of taking the key of his father.

Another instance where the role reversal becomes very clear is when Luke JJ helps his dad to escape to Yucatan in Season 2, Episode 8. After they share an emotional farewell on the boat, JJ gives his father some money for the journey and secretly disposes the pills fueling Luke's addiction. These actions are another example of JJ routinely stepping into a caretaker role, which traditionally belongs to the parent.

Luke Maybank pressures his son into helping him for the last time (Season 2, Episode 8)

JJ stays behind, relieved that his father cannot harm and manipulate him anymore. But his hopes are fading that he will ever change. JJ is left with the growing certainty that he will, despite his relentless efforts, never be able to have the unconditional love and acceptance he craves for. It is questionable if JJ will ever give up seeking his father's love and acceptance, but due to his personal growth in the last three season it becomes clear that he will no longer fight for it to the point of self-sacrifice.

Luke Maybank leaves his son (supposedly) for good in Season 2, Episode 8

[missmin33]

She said what? The Verbal Giveaways of a Covert Narcissist

Following on from my last post about the behaviours of (abusive) covert narcissists, here's a mini-look at their typical ways of expressing themselves verbally.

Image Courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net/artur84 Just like Overt Narcissists, the covert narc will love bomb you in the early stages of the relationship, but the manner in which they woo you is different. They’ll listen intently to every word you say, making you feel completely heard and understood, perhaps for the first time ever. They’ll also mirror you – pretending to be interested in what…

[bitchapalooza]

I relate to Sanji too much because it really does seem like he’s adopted the mentality that physical and mental abuse is a form of significant affection but only directed towards himself, like he sees it’s wrong and unjust when other people are being abused, but when he’s the victim he feels this conflicted sense of I deserve it and Wow they love me so much! It’s heartbreaking just to think about tbh

[treluna4]

Fan fic saved my life

TW: emotional abuse, coercion, control, intimidation, homelessness, psychological abuse, DV.

Today, I (through an attorney) served my abuser with a protection order. I entered the apartment I’ve been banned from for the last four years, took back what was rightfully mine, and left.

I’m free.

My life is mine again.

I never thought I would have to do something like this. Now that I have, I’ve come to realize that I’ve learned a lot of really hard life lessons from this fucked up experience. Here are a few of them:

What I’ve learned as a survivor of DV:

DV doesn’t just happen between family members or romantic partners. Your abuser can be a lifelong friend. Someone you have a shared history with. Someone who has helped you, supported you, loved you in the past.

Your abuser can be a disabled person.

Your abuser can have a chronic illness.

Your abuser can be financially dependent on you.

No abuser starts out that way. There’s a shift that happens over time, so gradually that it’s hard to know it’s happening until it’s too late.

My abuser gaslit the fuck out of me. She labeled me a monster, a villain, a sociopath, an abalist, because I didn’t empathize with her enough. No matter what I did, it was never enough for her. I was never enough.

And I believed her.

She convinced me that there was something deeply, inherently wrong with me. Something I must fix and change and grow from in order to be a good person again.

She convinced me she alone could fix those monstrous parts of me.

She convinced me that everyone else could see those parts too. That all my friends and family thought there was something deeply wrong with me. They just never said anything. Because I was an angry, violent person and they were all too scared to say anything. She reminded me, constantly, of all the ways which I was a failure.

Her relentless judgment and criticism changed me. It changed who I was and how I interacted with the world. I was scared of my own shadow. Scared of anyone in a position of authority. Terrified of ever doing anything wrong.

Trapped as I was in my circumstances, I became bitter and angry. Gone was the bright, happy person I’d been my entire life. It was wrong to be so happy, she said. No one is that happy all the time. It was time to grow the fuck up. Be an adult. And I agreed.

Caught up in my new mentality, I said things, did things, thought things that I will deeply regret for years to come. I was cold to people who didn’t deserve it. Rude for reasons I didn’t fully understand. I was trying to grow, just like she said. Trying to change. Convinced as I was that she was right. This is what it meant to be an adult. After all, no one is that happy all the time.

My newfound bitterness only proved her point. Of course I was a terrible person who never knew how to love people. Here’s the evidence! Obviously, what I thought was love had only ever been manipulation. She was right, after all. She was always right. I’d never truly loved anyone or anything.

I really was a monster.

It got to a point where I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. I didn’t even want to look at my reflection. I didn’t want to face the broken shell of a person I’d become. I didn’t want to see what the rest of the world had always seen.

I stopped my spiritual practices. I didn’t want to face that uncomfortable truth that I was a failure. I was bad and wrong and terrible. So I hid the best parts of myself, to keep them away from the cruel person I really was.

I downplayed my queerness. I wore muted clothes and became a muted person. I fled from anything that might draw attention, anything that would warrant a comment. After all, she couldn’t attack something that no longer existed.

She made me question everything. Every single aspect of my life. She convinced me everything I’d ever known was a lie. I’d never actually done anything with a pure heart or good intentions. Everything I’ve ever done was a manipulation. A way to get everyone around me to do what I wanted them to. I was incapable of true, genuine love. What I felt was not love. It was a lie. Who I was, was nothing but a lie.

She told me I was a bad caregiver, and that I only ever made tough situations worse. She told me many times that I was emotionally unstable and should never be allowed to work with vulnerable populations. As someone who spent her life working with children and caring for others, this devastated me.

Despite all of this, she said she loved me. That she cared about me. She was simply telling me all of this for my own good, because it was her job to fix me. I had to stay with her, I had to continue to support her, until I could prove to her that I was mentally sound. Then and only then would she let me go. After all, she said, It wouldn’t be safe for her to let someone like me out in the world. It was her job to make sure I was healed first, so that I wouldn’t hurt anyone else the way I hurt her. That’s why I couldn’t leave her. I had to stay. I had to help her get better, since it was my fault she was ill in the first place. If I had been more emotionally stable, we wouldn’t have been in this situation and she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. So the only way out (for both of us) was for me to fundamentally change.

She constantly turned her abuse around on me. Whatever terrible things she said to me were justified. After all, she didn’t say anything worse to me than I once said to her. And since I obviously never cared about her, why should she care about me now? She was just matching my energy. Playing my game. I was actually the one controlling things here, and any misfortune was my fault, really. Any of my accomplishments were solely because of her, and all the work she put into making me a better person over the course of our decade + long friendship.

And I believed her. Always. Why wouldn't I? She helped me all those times before, right? Whenever I was at my lowest, she was the person I’d always turned to. She was always right back then, why should this time be any different? She was a good person. Kind. Brilliant. Not like anyone else is ever known. Surely that had to count for something.

Right?

Turns out, it’s not that simple. Just because someone helped you out before doesn’t mean they’re helping you out now.

If I could go back seven years, this is what I’d tell my 30-year-old self; fresh from a break-up. Lost. Scared. Vulnerable.

Write it down. Whatever she says, whatever she does, write it all down. You might not want to face it. You might not want to see how bad it really is, but write it down anyway.

A person who feels they have no control over their own life can find comfort in controlling yours.

No one ever anticipates finding themself in an abusive situation. There’s no planning for it or preparing for it. Even if you know the signs (and I knew all the signs), it can still happen to you.

If you don’t feel comfortable speaking up for yourself, if you can’t somehow say “no” to someone, it doesn’t mean you are a weak person, or that you’re doing anything wrong. It means you don’t feel safe around them.

Anything done “For your own good” rarely is.

You cannot be bullied into feeling empathy for someone. But that doesn’t mean you’re incapable of feeling empathy.

You are allowed to leave. You are not obligated to stay in a toxic situation, regardless of your past. And you are not a heartless monster for leaving someone, even if they are sick. There is nothing wrong with putting your health and safety above all else. That doesn’t make you selfish. That doesn’t make you a monster.

You’re allowed to be a full, entire person. You’re allowed to make mistakes. That doesn't mean you’re incompetent, or manipulative, or fucking ablist. It means you’re a person. A human being. And regardless of whatever mistakes you’ve made in the past, you don’t deserve to be treated this way.

We warn children about the dangers of keeping a secret. That doesn’t just apply to children. Do not keep her secrets. Do not keep her silence.

Isolation comes in many forms and each is toxic.

Do not isolate yourself. Talk to the people in your life. Let them in. Even if you think what you’re going through is not a big deal, even if you don’t wanna burden them. Even if you have trouble saying the words out loud. (Especially if you have trouble saying it out loud) Tell someone. Let your friends in. Let them help you.

You are not a burden.

Luckily for me, I have two incredible friends who helped me get out. Two people my abuser never knew about, because she told me to stay off of all social media. She told me fan fiction and fan spaces were bad for my mental health. It was childish for a grown woman to still be writing fan fic. Or acting in plays. Or listening to musicals. Or doing any of the many things that brought me so much joy, in my life before her.

Thank god I didn’t listen. At least, not for long.

Because two of my pocket friends that I met ON THIS VERY HELL SITE are the reason I’m free today.

@celeritas2997 and @statueinthestone . None of this would have happened without you two. I love you both so much.

Cee taught me what it looks like to support someone who is not ready to leave. When I finally worked up the nerve to tell her what was going on, she listened. She didn’t judge. Instead, she gave me the resources I needed to get out and encouraged me to seek help, without ever once shaming me for not being ready.

And it took me a very long time to be ready. But she never once demeaned me for it. She waited SO patiently, and listened whenever I shared new details of my abuse with her. She continued to suggest I get help, and when I chickened out again and again, she was still there. She never gave up on me. When I finally took her advice and reached out to the resources she suggested and started the process of leaving my abuser, she celebrated with me. She never once said “I told you so”.

Thank god I finally listened to her.

Jesi. Fuck. Jesi helped me in so many fucking ways, but none more so than this: she taught me that not everyone shows love the same way, and that’s okay. Just because the way I show love is different from what others expect or demand from me, it is in no way less valid. Thr way I love is valid. The way I love is enough.

I am enough.

Beyond the emotional lessons, this experience taught me a whole host of other things as well. For almost four years now, I’ve been homeless. I’ve been living in my car while my abuser lived in my apartment. I paid for her rent, food, medications, clothes, household items, streaming service subscriptions. (Streaming services I was forbidden to use, by the by. Because. You know. Mental health. I didn’t listen to this either. 😂)

And it was no big deal! It made sense, really, to do all this for her. After all, she was sick. And she was my best friend. She had already sacrificed so much for me. She was a good person who’d been dealt a shitty hand. She’d NEVER take advantage of me.

Right?

And anyway, I wasn’t really homeless. I CHOSE to live in my car. It was the right thing to do. That apartment was so tiny and she was so, so sick. And I’d always wanted to live a nomad lifestyle! I got bored living in apartments. That’s why I moved around so much in my life before her. Living in my car just made sense. It’s what I wanted.

Right?

Being homeless has taught me so much, not just about myself, but i e picked up a lot of car living life hacks. Here are a few of them:

You can work two jobs and still be homeless.

Like abuse, homelessness can look like many things. It’s not just that one stereotypical image that pops in your brain when you hear the word. To this day, my employers have no idea I’m homeless, and I’ve been working for them for two years.

Battery powered anything is a godsend.

Public restrooms are an absolute necessity for all of society. I will forever and always be grateful for them, especially for public park restrooms that are open all year round.

There are certain places where sleeping in a car is legal, and many places where it’s not. Familiarize yourself with your local laws. Be safe.

There are at least 20 different meals you can cobble together from the prepared food section at any grocery store with about $10 and a little creativity.

Quarantining with Covid sucks. Quarantining for 5 straight days in a car sucks absolute dickhole. (That said, doordash will deliver directly to your car and leave the bag on the hood, if you ask nicely)

Wet wipe showers are 100% a real thing and are a good solution in a pinch, but NOTHING beats a hot shower. Absolutely nothing. (I can’t wait to have a bathtub again.)

Stuffing 4-6 Hot Hand packets in the bottom of a thick sleeping bag will go a long way to keeping you warm on subzero nights.

For curtains: crack open a window, stick the edge of a sheet through, and close the window again. Repeat as necessary.

For sleeping, if possible: remove the headrest from the front passenger seat and lower it completely until it reaches the back seat for an impromptu L-shaped bed.

Try not to sleep in the same position every night. Your body will thank you later.

Always keep at least one window open a crack, even in the winter. Condensation leads to mold.

If you take a second job working nights, know that it is fucking impossible to sleep in a car on a hot fucking summer day when you can only open the window a fucking crack (for the sake of safety). You will wake up in the afternoon gross, smelly and drenched in sweat.

Gym memberships are an absolute must.

Beyond that, I’ve also learned the importance of setting boundaries, and that not only is it okay to say “no” it’s essential. I’ve learned you’re not selfish for wanting to leave a toxic situation. I’ve learned that freedom can be taken from you, but that you can take it back. And above all, I now know one thing with absolute certainty:

You cannot be broken.

You. Cannot. Be. Broken.

No matter what happens to you, no matter how they try, they will NEVER break you.

Abuse can lead you to forget, for a while, who you are, and you might need to lock up certain parts of yourself temporarily for the sake of your own survival.

But one day.

One day.

You will hit the point where you have had enough. And on that day you’ll find that she was always there. With you. The whole time. The person you truly are was with you all along. She never left. She’s simply been waiting for you to need her again.

And on that day, that glorious day when you truly wake up, your entire life will change. Even if you can’t leave yet, when you realize the full weight of what is happening to you, when you realize the truth, you let the hope back in. And every step you take toward your goal from there on out, every step toward your freedom, will be all the sweeter for it.

You will doubt yourself, of course. Even after you choose to leave, even as you prepare and plan, you will doubt yourself.

She’ll be so angry if I go. So hurt. Can I really do that to her? She’s sick. She needs me. She doesn’t have anyone else. Can I really hurt her? I’ve hurt her so much already.

What if it’s not actually as bad as I think? Maybe I’m just being dramatic. Maybe I should try harder. Be better. Maybe I can save us.

She’ll come after me if I leave. She said so. She’s going to make me pay for what I’ve done to her. What if she makes good on her threats? What if she makes my life hell?

What if she was right?

What if she was right?

Can I really do this?

It’s natural to second guess yourself, especially on the “good” days. The days after a big blow up. When it seems like she’s moved on and conversations between you are normal again. Or as normal as they’ll ever be. Especially in those moments, you’re going to doubt yourself. That’s okay.

Doubt yourself. Do it anyway.

And in those particularly low moments, reach out to the people who truly love you and try to believe their reassurances, even when that feels impossible. Seeking help from your friends is not manipulation. There’s nothing wrong with needing guidance or validation. Especially not now.

I’m free. I’m finally free and I feel elated and giddy…and also scared. She told me multiple times in no uncertain terms that she was going to spend the rest of her life getting back at me for all the pain I caused her (and that was before I left).

But I’m also, surprisingly, sad. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to get to the point where I would have to press charges against my former best friend in order to escape her. I loved her. I never wanted to hurt her. This is her absolute worst nightmare and I take no pleasure in making that happen.

But I have no regrets. I am a fucking human being with a good heart, free will, and some semblance of self respect. I don’t deserve to be treated this way. I have the right to protect myself and she’s made it clear, this is the only way I can do that. It’s sad, yes, but it had to happen. And after all, she has been threatening to do the same thing to me for years!

For at least two years now, she’s been saying that if I didn’t start giving a shit about her, she was going to have me arrested for abuse of a disabled person. She was going to have me placed under a conservatorship, or admitted to a psychiatric facility due to my mental and emotional instability. She said she was going to tell everyone I once loved what a terrible person I am, spread my secrets far and wide, among so many other threats, all intended to keep me in line.

It was an effective strategy. For a while, at least.

Leaving is painful. And scary. And sad. And quite possibly the most difficult thing I've ever had to do.

But it was necessary. And it was worth it. Oh my god it was SO fucking worth it!! I’m free. And my freedom is worth fighting for.

There’s a lot I still don’t know. I’m going to need a lot of time and therapy to feel like myself again, but in spite of all this, as I look at the boxes of my belongings I managed to rescue from the apartment I haven’t been allowed to enter in four years, I feel like I won.

I won.

I got my life back.

As hard as this was, never have I felt more hope for the future as I do right now. There is so much I want to do! So much I CAN do now! I have incredible friends I want to make things for. I have a beautiful cat (Vayda) I need to meet one day.

I’m going to get that haircut I always wanted, but never got for fear of ridicule (too queer). I’m going to get another tattoo, I’m going to travel, and soon, I’m going to have my own place again. For the first time in almost a decade. A small apartment just for me. A sanctuary.

I’m going to have a real bed again. And a kitchen. I’m going to take bubble baths and bake cookies and keep a toothbrush in an actual toothbrush holder and clothes in a real dresser instead of in a plastic tub in the trunk of my car. I’m going to have an herb garden and hang a bird feeder outside my window.

Hopefully one day I’ll even get a cat myself. A pet I can pour all my love into because I have love to give. I have so much love to give and the freedom to truly give it now.

My life is bright and full of possibilities again and none of that, not one single shred of the happiness I feel now would have been possible without fan fiction.

Fan fic gave me a community, when I was forced into isolation.

Fan fic gave me refuge on the long days when I couldn’t escape her relentless criticism.

Fan fic kept me warm when my windows were crusted over with frost.

Fan fic gave me lovely comments from lovely readers that kept me going. Words that told me maybe I wasn’t so worthless after all.

Fan fic has been my home, my one remaining source of joy, my tiny act of rebellion.

I’ve spent a lot of time already reminding myself of what is true and what isn’t. There’s a lot there left to sift through. But the greatest truth of my life is, and I’m not being hyperbolic when I say this:

Fan fiction saved my life.

[furiousgoldfish]

my parents, who have a home, handle every bit of stress by abusing their child, throw tantrums, use any manipulation to get their way, yell insults and slurs unprovoked and threaten murder at slight disobedience: you have it SO EASY

me, sitting there with my cptsd, dissociative disorder, anxiety of a person being hunted for sport, paranoia of being killed, fearing for survival and engulfed in deep shame and guilt over even existing: I what