a splintered mind.

results of my 1 per minute pokemon speed draw attempt

But when you grow up in a house that doesn’t communicate.. When you only know aggression and silence.. When you only know how to bury it all down into separate pieces of yourself..

You don’t know what communication is. You don’t know how to communicate that something bothers you. You just bury it all over again, not understanding why you’re so angry and so upset about things. You feel like shit but you don’t know why you feel like shit. You can never piece it together, but you just feel like shit.

The conversation happens, and you get into your normal position. You get ready to feel that corner against your back, and you get ready to growl and snap and bite. You feel like a feral animal being threatened and persecuted for something you didn’t—or maybe did—do. You’re ready to snap and fight back against anything they say.

But then you come into contact with what communication is supposed to be. Kind, caring, understanding, open. At first, you try to get into that normal position, but there is no corner. Even when you snap and lash, all they do is just put a hand on your head and tell you “I see you” without even saying the words.

I am here for people who don't perform perfectly as they recovered from their trauma and abuse.

I am here for people who weren't believed.

I am here for people who went back, who reached out, who were unsure about what was happening to them until they were.

I am here for people who behaved chaotically and uncharacteristically in reaction to their trauma.

I am here for people who screamed, yelled, or hit back.

I am here for people who froze, stayed silent, or couldn't fight back.

I am here for people who couldn't get their stories straight, because their own memories of what happened were so fractured by the trauma.

I am here for people who's boundaries became rigid and impermeable as they tried to create a new sense of safety in their life.

I am here for people who lost all boundaries, who felt unsafe setting any boundaries in the wake of having them violated.

Whatever happened that makes you feel like you were a "bad" survivor, I am here for you.

"But it made you stronger!"

the little girl I left