TWELVE THOUGHTS FOR TWELVE YEARS SINCE THE ABUSE ‘ENDED’

When I say ‘ended’, I mean that the physical side of the abuse finished because it’s so important to recognize that there never really is an end to abuse. I don’t say this in a hopeless way; but more as an acknowledgement that the memories, the thoughts, the feelings; they don’t just ‘end.’ 
Note: why am I not posting this on the actual anniversary? Because I'll be too busy having fun with my best-friend! 

1.        I’ll never forget the day I really first reported it

This is something that you may think I’ve spoken about but actually, I’ve only ever talked about my reporting the abuse to professionals and the Police. The reason I haven’t been able to talk about the first reporting is that it’s been hard to find a way to see it in a way that doesn’t reveal who my abuser was because - for legal reasons - I can’t do that. So basically, the first time I ever told someone what was happening to me happened after a huge argument with my abuser and something in me snapped and I thought ‘this is never going to end if I don’t do something about it.’ So, I told my abuser’s ‘boss.’ I was called a manipulative liar and it, obviously, left me completely convinced that I could never tell another person. 

2.       I can still feel unconditional love

I always thought, going through what I had, and dealing with it by dissociating, meant that I’d always stay cut off from the world. I – and others – put a lot of trust in my abuser and I actually relied on him at some point before it began so I worried that I’d never trust in another person again. That I’d never feel another feeling towards someone because I’d be forever scared that someone would destroy me the way that he had. It did take a long time to get to where I am today in terms of relationships but going into recovery helped me to appreciate all of the people who had been there for me through the hard days and in stabilizing my mental health, I’ve learnt how to build stable and healthy relationships.

FROM CUTS TO CARLISLE | HOW I CHANGED MY MENTAL HEALTH AROUND IN A WEEK

*Note: This post contains talk of self-harm*

Last Friday (15^th June) I had a complete mental health crisis in the form of two dissociative episodes within hours of one another.

One minute I was at home watching Netflix and the next thing I knew I was staring at a huge cut in the palm of my hand, blood dripping from it and covering the floor; which was littered in pieces of a broken cup. I still can’t for certain that I smashed the cup on purpose and cut myself but since I’ve done that in the past it seems like the logical explanation(!) I think that the only thing stopping me from accepting that as the case is the fear that comes with it. If I’m capable of completely switching off from the world and self-harming without knowing it, then what the hell else am I capable of doing?!