Finding My Own Path 🌳 (Fellow travelers welcome)

TW (Trigger Warning) (Massive Trigger Warning)

I can't breathe.

I feel like every second of my suffocation is being watched while people peer over my shoulder judging how I suffocate.

​​​​​​I feel like people are more interested in watching and giving pointers on how best to suffer gracefully.

My PTSD wraps it's thin fingers about my neck and squeezes. There is so much pressure I pray for my eyes to pop out.

Help I can't breathe.
My vision has gone black and I feel numb.

I cannot feel my face.

Here lately when I have sex I want his hands about my throat.

I feel fear flood me and I want him to hold on tighter.

When did I become like this?

I can't breathe, and we aren't even having sex yet.

Just the thought of him brings that smell to memory and it wraps about me like a warm comforting blanket.

I think about that other one... that other one... and that other one... those other ones...

They pushed her into a ditch and laughed? She said, she said.... She says nothing now.

To me it was more gentle, They were blacked out memories on a canvas bleached white and made new.

When I had sex for the first time it was on the floor with the door open and the boy I loved who loved to beat me more took a nonexistent virginity with a truck stop condom. I married him for the favor and he did it again and again.
And tried to kill me.

He bought me such pretty apologies, with mirrored love letters and made art from everything. Inch by inch he carved his name into my soul until it was whittled down into nothing. Then he blamed that nothing for his losses.

I was his loss, his wasted effort.

I think of him and them and them, the sociopathic one with red hair, the Irish racist who married a black girl? I am so confused. How does one accidentally marry a clan member?

I think of the smiling faced quiet spoken one who leapt off the cliffs drunk and survived. I cannot remember the times he?
Oh no my memory is....

Filled with wild onions and popsicle dollhouses.

I am on a slide, a slide and breaking... My thoughts are broken...

......
-Crow

Still alive (TW maybe?)

I ended up changing therapists, my symptoms got worse, and I caught the worlds longest stomach flu. >> I sunk into a funky depression, and haven't had the energy for much other than signing on and attempting to do one path a day. Seems like I even flubbed that up at some point! But for a while there despite it all I was keeping it up.

I have blood work tomorrow morning, and I haven't mentioned this but I am terrified of needles. No idea why I've had guns put in my face and been fine) But you show me a tiny little butterfly needle and the feral comes out real quick! It's not even the pain, I'm fine with pain. I've been tatted! And well dealt with a lot of pain, but seeing that needle sink into my vein just freaks me out and I go wild. Last time though I told the people I had PTSD and they handled it a lot better. In the past, I've just said I don't like them, and I get an apathetic response no matter how much I explained it wasn't a normal dislike. PTSD people somehow understand better so I'll give that a go and see if it works again.

I have missed writing here. I have an online journal I write in but I feel more comfortable being able to let my guard down here. I miss the people here, they are awesome. I'm not back at 100% but I'm giving it a go. This new therapist seems to be struggling a bit in her personal life, but at least acknowledges that and has mentioned an actual appointment. It's a little rocky because god forbid I just want a smooth ride with a therapist for like the first week to get me in the groove, but such is life, a mess for everyone so I'm holding on hoping it works out.

-Crow

So ... here's the thing... Sorry maybe?

I ended up with Covid, have a secondary infection that sent me to the ER. More trauma stuff, more trauma stuff, more trauma stuff. Went off the deep end, had some DID issues... Tried to get back on the horse but can barely sit up (chest infection) Bottomed in the deep end, thought shit was getting to a place I could come back and write and work on myself, then found out I could tunnel further into the deep end.

And I lost this place, and a lot of other things that was keeping me healthy. Partially because it was a struggle to be alive, partially because sitting up still hurts my chest, and causes breathing problems. Partially because I didn't know what to say, and a little bit because I wasn't always sure who I was, or when I was.

PTSD is being a real bitch, and I don't like it.

Positive things I am attempting but not sure of. NaNoWriMo, starting a blog, and getting back to work on this site.

I have a lot to write about... I am also really tired, and unable to do as much living as I'd like. Most of my day is taking medicine and sleeping.

-Crow

So... I committed to a bunch of work which is going to make me hyperventilate into a paper bag every ten seconds. O.O

By January I have committed to writing two books. One YA novel, and one for Story Vault. Setting up a website with a blog, and beginning to release my first graphic novel. Since believing in myself is about as easy as .... well I suck at it. So much so I have consistently self-sabotaged for years despite talent. I've decided to give it a try and just throw up a few times, and maybe fail or succeed who knows. Either way, it's a good idea to put myself out there as a social practice.

Meanwhile, I am still kicking but fighting this secondary infection. I have started a diet and made it to the park the other day without needing the inhaler. And I bought Valhalla. I made a list for Turkey day. (some really interesting things going on around here grocery lists and panic) lol

There is still so much going on I should write about, but right now there is just so much I guess it's easier to ease into it. My head hasn't been in the best place, and I want to try to hold onto any positivity I can hold onto.

Meanwhile, PTSD is difficult to handle right now. At the store today I found myself standing in a blind frozen panic, unable to speak or move. But I think focusing on the positive and accepting PTSD and its new expressions is the only way through.

-Crow

I'm going to have a mental breakdown. =-=

I've been told that I am a racist horrible person unless I change my main character in my book to white. I don't know how to explain that, that just isn't okay with me. I can't just flip her skin color like it's not attached to her body or person or apart of who she is. Don't get me wrong it isn't who she is, but it's apart of who she is. And I don't have time or the want to write a new book... and I don't want to only write for female, pansexual, white main characters.

I thought I was doing this the right way. This character came to me, she is telling me her story. I reached out to black authors, to black lgbt groups, and more because I know damn well I am not black and black has meaning and so black voices need to have their say about a black character specifically black lgbt voices. The story isn't even about her being a black lgbt girl it's a fantasy with a talking raccoon she just happens to be lgbt and black and yeah that comes up but it's not all about that. It's about her finding herself and that's part of it, and faeries.

I have to write a novel in a month... It was supposed to just be a whimsical fun adventure... *cries* that's what I loved about it... now people want to see it... Want it publishable... and I'm a racist at the same time.. *vomits and hyperventilates at the same time*

-Crow

My name is Avalon and I am hijacking this diary for my own until it's being used again by the host. I'm not entirely sure what to write here, but I find myself agitated more and more lately by expectations. Jack is constantly acting like a manic child and I used to be able to decompress while out by talking to Kitten but even that has become a trigger for internal chaos. Kitten is a mutual friend of our system but due to Jack's childish behavior, I am stuck avoiding this person lest I trigger some sort of drama. Which leaves me alone at the park with stray cats.

I don't mind strays but I'm no longer allowed to fall asleep at the park or even leave without prior permission. I am expected to keep others inline while we deal with this new researcher which may or may not take our case. The host is perpetually in crisis and to be frank, I could use a drink, but there in again I am not allowed to drink either. As noone appears to be writing here, it seems like a safe place to let out my annoyances.

I have also not talked to a shrink before. What does one say to a shrink?

Avi

@WalkingCrow. Haven't see you around. Just wanted to say youve been in my thoughts and I hope everyone is ok