#ptsdpoem

[slytherinthelibrary]

I try I wish to be who I was

I go back in time and through my past and searching for when I was happy and free and then

I found that it doesn't

Didn't exist

In my past, it was sad more than it was happy

Because all I can see when

I look back on those memories

Is how I should have left

I was so naíve

Thinking I could be joy

For them

Make them

Happy

Because they made themselves sad

Through me they dug their hole

And I tried to please them

What did I do wrong

I did everything

What didn't I do wrong

What was in my control

Where is that moment

That people wish they could go back to

Because mine

I don't have one

It's so

Blurry

Faded

Wispy

L

O

S

T

[ptsdpoems]

happy ptsd awareness month!

[unspoken-thoughts-7]

Battling for Purpose

This may be war

But my heart can still break

When you fight for the love of my brothers

Instead of anger and hate

I may not cry

But wounds take long to heal

When I continue to fight through pain too real

So if you crave my death

Destroy my heart

For I am but a lonely soul with nothing to lose

And battle has left me all alone

So without my enemy, what would I do?

[vanitasviejas-blog]

When I was a child my needs were not important. They weren't valid, and at best, they were a means to teach a lesson in relying only on myself. A lesson that I should be lucky to learn- and I should feel lucky to be learning from the best.

When I was a child my needs were not important, and so, I learned not to need.

  When I was a child my wants were offensive. They were something to feel guilty for. They were an insult, and something to be kept to yourself. They were, at best, a funny remark amongst adults talking, and how easy a child I was, to have no wants. How good a child I was, to have no preference. No demands.

When I was a child, my wants were offensive, and so, I learned not to want.

  When I was a child my words were silent. They weren't heard, and who could hear them ? Could anyone hear me? Was I talking at all? They were, at best, easily ignored. At worst, an interruption. Was it that time then, that my words were gone? I learned that my words are not their words, and my words are also not my own. They are too much, or too little, and will never be enough.

When I was a child my words were silent, and so, I learned not to speak.

  When I was a child my thoughts were unwanted. They were indiscernible, insignificant, not appropriate, not important. My thoughts were pictures, that only I could see. I could watch them privately, while my mouth spoke words that no one could hear. I learned that my thoughts were not theirs. They weren’t mine either. And so, they lived always as a television left on, a steady hum, flashing images, a remote out of my reach. Out of my control.

When I was a child, my thoughts were unwanted, and so I learned not to think.

  When I was a child my presence was a nuisance. To be relieved immediately, and to anywhere. My presence had invisible permanence, always somewhere, but never there. It was, at best, a useful distraction from a grocery store run-in, a sacrificial lamb. My presence is a picture of someone else. Someone older, before me, above me.

When I was a child my presence was a nuisance, and so I learned not to be present.

I learned to be, by being small. I learned to exist, by disappearing. I learned to hold my breath to survive, and to hold on to nothing so that nothing could be taken away.

[slytherinthelibrary]

I feel the ptsd before it hits

It makes no difference

Still, I thrash and gnash my teeth

Instincts, raw and visceral

Completely animal in nature

The panther screams

And so do I

[ptsdpoems]

i was given this paper during treatment the other day. very helpful tips for self care!!

[ptsdpoems]

[ptsdpoems]

something that helps me whenever I start having an intrusive thought or a flashback, I like to have a safe spot to go to in order to feel okay again. I found this park on the same street as the new place I’m living at.

[ptsdpoems]

something that helps me whenever i get triggered is word magnets. as a poet, this is a good relaxation method especially. whenever i sit down to write when i have an anixety attack, i end up triggering myself more bc it requires me to think about what i want to write, whereas magnets are more physical and require less thought. there’s also limited vocabulary and the words don’t have too much emotion behind them so it helps prevent mental spirals.

[ptsdpoems]

the heart.

the heart bleeds inside of itself.

- ptsdpoems

[ptsdpoems]

(via @nekid_magazine on insta)

[ptsdpoems]

the hard thing about outpatient is showing up I feel like. it’s hard to think about all the mental work you have to do before you get there. the thing that keeps me going back though is that every time I go back in to figure out my trauma and how to work around it, I always come out a different and more emotionally stable person, even without meds. I need meds tho LOL my anxiety........ waiting on my therapist to start me on this shid....

[ptsdpoems]

just ptsd things

i always have anxiety about whether or not i accidentally plagiarize poems. like ik my poems are mine but then i’ll think....... what if i read this from someone else and i subconsciously rewrote it SKSKSKKSKSKSKSKSKS i luv having ptsd!!

[ptsdpoems]

the future isn’t the future (if i were marty mcfly)

if i were marty mcfly

i know i’d fly high in the sky,

in my silver DMC DeLorean.

nothing would ever go wrong.

i would always be able to save the day -

and change what’s happened to me.

knowing what i’d know,

i’d be the world’s keeper.

i’d know it’s secrets, every crevice of every timeline,

and then ultimate chaos would ensue.

as bad as i want to be living in the future,

or fixing the fragments of the past,

i know the present is more important now.

[ptsdpoems]

identity

i am glad to be

someone

finally.

[ptsdpoems]

welcome to my blog

hi. im Kirsten. im a college student. i was diagnosed with ptsd a few days ago, and im currently in a recovery program. ive created this blog to provide resources for those who also suffer from ptsd, and to also keep a place for all of my poetry. writing poetry has helped me to cope with the more severe symptoms of ptsd. with that being said, i hope you find what you're looking for here, and maybe you’ll learn something about me.