Trauma + Healing Stories
Empowerment + Validation + Support for Trauma Survivors, one story at a time.
Tonight, sitting in the bathroom and writing inside the tiniest binder I have ever found, I am setting some intentions for my personal growth and healing journey.
I am writing to the Universe and speaking my truths. ♡
I have decluttered and organized mine and my spouses little bedroom + our kids little bedroom to show love and appreciation for it.
After almost 5 years living in my in laws place for help while we struggled, showing frustration and circling in my small space like a stressed out tigress ----> I have finally surrendered to this space.
Instead of letting my depression paint these walls and the caving in of unintentional space being taken up sink me further ----> I have utilized the rebirthing energy I have had all day long to RECLAIM THIS SPACE.
Tonight I am thankful for the JOURNEY and I am telling it this was all great for my growth but I am ready for MORE.
I gave my three kids who share their little room a bunch of space and organization now to sit and play with intention, to display their art, and appreciate the fact that they share it all with love and joy.
It is hard to feel JOY when you do not feel like you can BREATHE in your space.
I have never known what it feels like to have a HOME of my own.
I never went to bed feeling safe in my bed or like it was a place I could miss.
I've always been ready to roam, no weights on my ankles or reason to hold myself back.
I write in this little book my complete desire for HOME.
A HOME FOR MY FAMILY.
A HOME FOR MY PASSIONS.
A HOME FOR MY HEART.
I cannot wait to speak unto the Universe for my biggest dreams and goals, without fears that my ink spilled in waste.
I am ready to receive as well as believe I am worthy of more.
My bookshelf is now only filled with the books that will bring my future closer to me.
An alter space has now been created with my favorite photos + mantras + the start of my crystal collection and my money jar.
I have wishes in tiny corked bottles and a magical little purple bag with stars that holds other intentions and wishes.
I am stepping into my power as I finish off 2019 and it feels so good.
Like a door is closing and I'm now looking forward on a path paved just for me.
J.S. Jaded Savior
Your progress is not the sum of everyone else's support.
If you want to grow + expand your mindset and do something, you just have to do it and with your own motivation.
Your motivation can be seen as rock bottom. It might be that you never again want to be or feel alone. Or the way that you just did.
It could be the FINAL disappointment you faced and consciously decided no MORE of that.
Motivation does not have to be pretty.
And guess what?
Some people's reactions wont be pretty either.
What it has taken for you to change your life around, ONLY YOU KNOW.
YOU are the creator of your own LIFE story.
And whatever it takes to write a better future---> as long as it is healthy and wise ---> DO IT.
ONLY NON SUPPORTERS WILL SHOW UP TO SHADOW YOUR HAPPINESS.
And you do not need them anyways.
IF YOU ARE THINKING:
■ I DON'T HAVE THE MONEY TO CHANGE
■ I DON'T HAVE THE TIME TO CHANGE
■ I DON'T HAVE THE RESOURCES TO CHANGE
Know that the only thing going on right now is your fear is trying to talk you down.
Anxiety and depression are fighting for the SOAP BOX to tell you that your story has already been written "and it's a tragic one".
That is not true.
It is not logical.
Here's a thought that is though.
If you show up, you are bound to change.
AND SHOWING UP IS FREE.
NO ENTRY TICKET.
NO DOOR CHARGE.
If you show up for progress, you not only have a free pass but you get to choose what you take with you beyond the door.
BONUS DEAL, not everything is going to fit so you will need to travel light.
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE....
Whatever does not fit in your life simply will be too heavy to carry on your journey.
And there is no time on your ticket.
You can SHOW UP whenever you want to.
Even if it is someone else's birthday or a holiday or mid breakup or a call to get away during a time others needed you.
You earned this ticket.
Any damn time you feel like accessing it.
I decided I need to be better.
Even though I'm poor.
Even though I have depression, anxiety and CPTSD.
Even though I don't have a set career.
Even though I don't have my own place to live.
Even though it's a Friday and a random time in the year.
EVEN THOUGH MY ANXIETY TELLS ME I HAVE TO START ON THE "FIRST OF THE MONTH" IN MY PLANNER OR ELSE IT WON'T COUNT AND I WILL FAIL LIKE I ALWAYS DO.
Anxiety is kind of a c*nt.
I need money to change, but not alot.
In the reality of reality, if I ask for donations in order to help me grow ----> a simple dollar donation from someone will get me [say it with me] ONE DOLLAR CLOSER TO THE HELP I NEED].
EXPANSION AND FEARS ARE ANTONYMS HERE.
You have to strip yourself of shame, worry, and what ifs.
ANXIETY IS NOT CONSIDERED CARRY ON.
So understand this.
You CAN. NO. YOU WILL FIND THE ANSWERS, SO LONG AS YOU START ASKING THE QUESTIONS.
So... do the work.
Ask for help.
Research your options.
Type in "free resources for .....".
Email a non -profit Organization that works with Trauma + Mental Health + Education + Transformation.
Whatever your unhealthy or undesirable struggles are ----> an answer awaits you.
The solution is just to SHOW UP.
J.S. Jaded Savior
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Louder I follow the beat, one tick at a time with slow breathes to calm my chest.
I am not calm yet but I am now centered.
It is 11:11 and the third panic attack of the morning has set in. But here I am, ankles crossed and legs bare on the bathroom tile.
Leaning my weight against the wall, nestled in the nook between shower and door.
This is my place of solitude, here in the bathing room -----> where my thoughts bounce around and come to a halt as they ricochet off mattress walls to ease my anxiety down.
My trauma does not reach me here very often, so this is where I go to find peace.
I never did do well with meditation music or counselors voices.
Between the irritating tones and sound waves of relaxation that everyone else seems to enjoy, I would hear nails to a chalkboard and a condescending tone.
PTSD makes it hard for me to remember things in order.
My mind is often like a jigsaw and I have to unscramble the 4000 plum pieces to decipher where my feelings come from.
I could get lost in a 3 hour roam around target, not for the pretty dresses or cutlery sets ----> but the way my mind loses track of time all together in wide open spaces.
Nothing brought more chaos and pleasure than walking aimlessly around malls when I had deep anxiety and depression.
The fact that I had no real direction or thing to drive home with felt synonymous with my swinging moods.
And the sea of strangers that scattered about made me feel like I was not alone, while at the same time providing no single intimate moment where I would have to dig up a boundary or conquer a trigger.
Time was a weird thing.
Perhaps because I was never allowed to own time, being told where to be indefinitely ---> and that was usually my room.
It could have been minutes or hours, or months, of solitude from evening til morning every day that kept me blinded to the clock.
Lack of play dates or outings unless I was locked out on purpose.
And in those times when I fell into the wind, I had everywhere and nowhere to be til whatever time.
How much does time really matter when your personality is stifled down by trauma?
When day after day after year, you only know that the abuse is timely?
The one consistent tick is the utter dissatisfaction your parent has with your existence...
When you have PTSD you evade time in ways others just don't understand.
In one moment, you are there just staring beyond the dinner plate ---> and in the next blink, you are a 10 year old with nails tightly gripping your thighs and tears streaming down your face as the THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Of the stomping feet and the furniture crashing down to the ground startle you.
And in the next, you hear a voice that is no longer familiar but very much real. Telling you that you are ungrateful and unworthy of the things that you have. That you did nothing to earn them and you should have it all taken away.
Right back into sipping your water and shakily chewing your chicken, taking extra small bites as to not need seconds.
PTSD can be really subtle, this time traveling between moments and emotions.
It can present itself as calmness, being collected or just sleepy. It can look like a smirk and kind eyes, with a tight grip on the thighs under the table where no one can see.
PTSD makes it hard to wear a watch.
In fact, I always hated them.
Hated schedules and deadlines and calendars, without a clear reason why.
So I recently made a decision, against every fiber of my being, to use a gift card and buy a watch.
I consciously made the decision to step into the present.
I decided, in 2020, I want to master time.
Somehow, listening to the Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. has become therapeutic from the moment I first wrapped the silicone band around my wrist and pulled the tab off pause.
Now when I feel like my mind is about to leave, I focus on the ticks and all other noises just fall away.
Like a metronome.
I picture a heaviness in my wrist that anchors me to the present, and travels like a warmth through my veins within my entire body.
Hot lead, filling me up and telling me it is safe to stay.
J.S. Jaded Savior
On December 11th I wrote a text to the Universe [and my email address]. I asked for specific blessings of the things my heart wanted.
Since that afternoon, with tears of anxiety and fear in my eyes, I have anxiously repeated my list. Not because I was dying to receive objects.....
Because I was dying to be heard.
By myself. By others. By the universal energy that provides.
And I've learned something since that you may find quite valuable.
I did not receive any of it without first asking.
First I knocked on the universe's door.
Then I began writing intuitively each day.
Pouring my heart out and sharing my vulnerability without criticizing myself for my:
I decided not to police myself or lecture myself about etiquette or principals.
Not to say "stop asking for things and silently work on them."
The truth is, when we silence ourselves it's like putting a cap on a candle.
We snuff out our own hopes and dreams.
We suck the air right out and then cry when we find the dead things.
The things we wish we had.
The things we wanted or needed so badly but refused to show up asking for.
Every day I read my list and I thank the universe for it all.
Some of the things in there include "an unexpected apology" and "a thank you note".
"The ability to give JOY."
"The ability to receive JOY."
My heart felt called that day to write out many things that served myself and others.
Every day since, I have been in awe as I watch it all unfold before me.
As I see the beautiful affects of allowing my heart to breathe.
Friends -- write your letter.
And do not tuck it away in your mind or a notebook.
Keep it out.
Read it out.
Tattoo the words on your heart.
Instead if reciting discomfort, speak the things you wish into reality. ♡
The answers are often waiting at the tip of your fingers and tongue.
J.S. Jaded Savior
I've been thinking a lot about the concept of "whole" and how unattainable it feels for someone who has been shattered by abuse.
We idolize this idea of "whole" because we think there are people out there who just "are".
Who were born into the perfect, loving family.
Who never had to struggle without money or shelter or food or provisions.
Whole means holidays of magic and celebration.
Whole means a full fridge all the time and a happy person ready to cook and serve it.
Whole means loving relationships and healthy communities that all go [not out of their way] exactly as ALL IN as they should into helping one another out.
Whole means friends who show up, call, celebrate, and encourage you.
Whole means a job you love and an environment you absolutely love showing up to.
Whole means great health and balanced diets. Strong bodies and athletic stamina.
Whole means pleasured and pleasuring and nights full of orgasmic perfection.
Whole means all time is managed and all nooks are in their crannies and all bows are perfectly symmetrical.
Whole means never having to heal from the bad.
Whole means kisses and promises dont taste like regrets.
Whole means heard.
Now a days I ask myself...
Who even is "whole"?
Who had the luxury of being raised "whole" without nightmares or anxiety or depression?
Without illusions of who they can really trust or what their reality is really like without abuse?
Probably very few.
I want to talk about our TRUTHS.
The things that keep our shards of broken emotions taped together.
"I want to shake the standard and provoke the term 'whole' because too many people are avoiding their truths thinking that facades are crazy glue.
The truths are that we are every bit made up of trauma, each and everyone one of us is in some way hurt.
And so long as we chase our tails thinking the tip of healing is the end all, we do not really see the entire value of what we are in the present.
Not being whole has taught you a whole lot about life.
Not being perfect has helped you to grow through your mistakes.
You just need a reminder daily that what you are currently is a moving mosaic.
And it is beautiful.
So sit down with it, the fragments of your being.
And tell yourself it is enough now.
You are enough right now, your valuable insight and resilient nature.
And you will never "become somebody" or "do something meaningful" once you are "whole".
You will be invaluable now if you speak your truths.
Your purpose now is to be transparent during the hard days.
So that we can all realize we are quite similar.
And finally stand together.
J.S. Jaded Savior
You cannot have a healthy life if you are busy building your house with mud.
If everything every negative person throws at you, you honor as bricks.
Your foundation is only created with honesty, transparency, and awareness.
Those are three different fundamental ingredients in building a healthy YOU.
Though linked, they serve entirely different purposes in your life.
Honesty is the tool we use to differentiate between right and wrong.
Transparency is the way we paint that truth for others to see.
Awareness is the way we paint it for ourselves.
You cannot keep picking up mud from others when they do not have a foundation to even stand on.
No amount of money can buy the ground in which I talk about standing on.
No experience in the world can fabricate it, unless you apply what truths you have discovered to your personal growth.
In the end, we are all a sum of our truths.
I decided that my truths had to be painted across my whole life.
I had to reveal to people what my struggles really are.
As someone with PTSD, I am often stuck in my own past truths.
The stories that came along with the beginning of my life.
I have only been building that foundation for 29 years, 28 of which I spent worried about what people might think.
What will people say if I tell them my present? My past?
If who I am feels empty of a sense of "home" because trauma taught me how to live life on the streets.
Always with no strings attached and ready to burn bridges.
With a paintbrush in one hand and a match in the other.
I never wanted to believe other people's bullshit and baggage ---> infact my hypervigilance made me see the mud beneath their fists, their elevated heartbeats and loud thoughts.
I grew up around people who did not know the concept of truth.
Mental illness made my parents believe in stories that never even happened while running out scenarios they never could remember.
That is what addiction does.
What schizophrenia did.
Paint pictures on the wall of mud caves and convince them it was a mansion.
I chose early on to not fall for illusions but that kept me fearful of building something for myself.
I always questioned if I was capable of making my own dreams come true ----
Or if PTSD just kept me stuck as little girl making sandcastles in the sand.
At 29, I've had an awakening.
I've woken up to realize that sand was just mud.
And all I have done is sat around squeezing it through my fingers like a stress ball to ease my anxiety.
I have come to realize, through education and healing, that those people who gave me mud were not sitting around laughing.
That would be rational.
When someone throws constant judgement and criticisms at you, tries to tell you who you are for you and dismantle your chances of happiness-----> they do not have the capability or awareness to stop. Or say sorry.
Sick people cannot apologize for misleading you.
Guess what they lack?
Mud flingers have no foundation.
How on earth do you expect them to help you create yours?
So what is the solution?
The ironic thing is we often learn the hard way.
Through struggle and awareness, we realize we did not need anyone else.
Growing up, I had very little encouragement to follow my dreams. My life was kept very sheltered and controlled.
But I grew only as big as the tank that held me every single time.
Now I know I need to stop expecting tools or encouragement from broken people.
I can be resourceful AF on my own if I'm not sitting around waiting for others, especially those surrounding me, to build my life.
I know what it takes.
Sitting with my truths. Speaking my truths.
Brick by brick.
Until I arrive at the life I love, in full cognizance of the things that made me become healthy and whole.
J.S. Jaded Savior
When you start showing up and speaking your truths, the BIG PUSH happens.
I like to call this the "big push" and I always thought it was because it was a shove at you for DOING SOMETHING WRONG -----> BUT IT IS ACTUALLY THE UNIVERSE PUSHING WHAT IS BAD AWAY FROM YOU.
The BIG PUSH happens like this:
You start to speak up about your BOUNDARIES.
You begin to
out your true feelings and
desires out into the universe.
You let your entire circle know what is UP.
The truth about your emotions, your needs, your likes, your dislikes.
The truth about your depression, your anxiety, your mental health.
The truth about what people piss you off, what wrongs have been done, what lines have been crossed.
And then, pushed out of the nest like a baby bird with fuzz on its ass still.
The universe says -------> FLY.
Some of you will FREEZE mid air, saying
Faaak faak faaak $#!T as you fall.
Some of you will look for any ledge or branch or familiar safety to GRAB desperately onto, because you did not feel ready for the gust of wind feeling like it is tunneling through your lungs and gravity that would quickly steal control from your body after leaping.
The truth though, is that it was worth that leap.
Worth the pent up anger and frustration you have had while living as "passing" in miserable situations and toxic relationships.
The big push is not in place to kill you or your self esteem.
Once I processed my feelings as I cascaded down heavily through the air of truth, I realized all I had to do to survive it was expand.
Expand my arms for the glide.
To embrace the wind as it carried me not down through lower expectations but AHEAD on nee horizons.
As a survivor of the fall, I am telling you now that I left the nest with my truths not with a fear of falling but with a clear of remaining stuck and in suspension of growth for never leaving.
For never even seeing what life would be like if I could fly.
This year, the BIG PUSH was a reward for taking that chance.
As I wrote out my truths and worked through them, I figured out more puzzle pieces as to who I am.
As I honored my BOUNDARIES, friends who did not were PUSHED OUT.
As I honored my needs, the items or things I did not need in my life were PUSHED OUT.
When I sat with myself to face my own fears and demons, the anxiety and the pain of walking daily with coal in my chest were PUSHED OUT.
THE NIGHTMARES WERE PUSHED OUT.
Because I stopped living in my own box of fears and depression, instead taking them to paper or computer screen for awareness and validation -------> my crippling fear of not being enough got PUSHED OUT.
I SHED SO MANY UNNEEDED THINGS IN 2019.
I PUSHED EVERYTHING THAT DID NOT WORK FOR ME OUT.
I spent years holding onto friendships and acquaintances with people who did not care for me or about me in the way that I WANTED TO BE CARED FOR, because of the anxiety of letting them go.
I felt guilt to cut people out.
I thought I had to love everyone regardless of how they treated me because I was happy eating other peoples crumbs of care instead of baking my own damn pie.
This revelation is so juicy, I can strip out all the metaphors.
I can tell you I simply trusted that I could show up and be myself, tell my truths, and be worthy of love.
I then decided I could love myself through the process, even if no one else did.
So I leaped.
I write about my mental health, the abuse I have endured, the revelations I have and the thoughts that come from my soul.
I no longer GAF who holds a word count to my posts.
I no longer worry when I hit share.
I do not time or limit or pressure myself when I speak or write my truths.
I do not censor or screen myself before I share what I think and believe.
Because I no longer live under anyone else's standards but my own.
I used to think the BIG PUSH was the Universe saying "Jean, you suck."
■ WRITE TOO MUCH
■ TALK TOO MUCH
■ THINK TOO MUCH
■ PLAN TOO MUCH
■ ARE TOO MUCH
I was pretty sure I'd been born or maybe created into TOO MUCH because of being neglected or taught the wrong things since I grew up in an abusive environment.
I thought I was too much for wanting to tell people that:
■ HAVING ABUSIVE PARENTS IS NOT NORMAL OR HEALTHY
■ HAVING A CHEATING OR LYING PARTNER IS NOT NORMAL OR HEALTHY
■ HAVING BEEN NEGLECTED OR GAS LIT AND GHOSTED IS NOT NORMAL OR HEALTHY
■ LIVING WITH ADDICTS IS NOT NORMAL OR HEALTHY
■ STAYING WITH AN ABUSIVE COPARENT TO HONOR THE KIDS IS NOT NORMAL OR HEALTHY
■ HAVING FRIENDS WHO LOVE MISERY AND NO COMPANY IS NOT NORMAL OR HEALTHY
■ MASKING MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES WITH CODEPENDENCY, ADDICTIONS, OR OVERCOMPENSATION IS NOT NORMAL OR HEALTHY
■ LIVING IN STRUGGLE CHRONICALLY AND NOT CHANGING HABITS/LIFESTYLE IS NOT NORMAL OR HEALTHY
■ LIVING WITH MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES AND NOT SEEKING HELP IS NOT NORMAL OR HEALTHY.
AND LASTLY, "NORMAL" IS NOT SYNONYMOUS WITH "HEALTHY".
Once I was ready to speak up about my experiences with sex, birth, abortion, abuse, domestic violence, eating disorders, neglectful and abusive family, gas lighting and ghosting lovers/friends, narcissists in my life, and the physical trauma it all caused me ---->
Such as: depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, night terrors, panic attacks, heart palpitations, shortness of breathe, foggy brain, speech slurs, stutters, indigestion, weight gain or loss, skin problems, circulation problems, stomach pains, body aches, hair loss etc.
I suddenly felt RELIEF.
Relief that I did not have to hide myself from everyone ----> from happiness.
Now that I am on the other side of Trauma, the place of recovery, I realize I only nested myself in unhappiness because joy felt foreign.
I did not believe I was able to achieve past a certain level in life because I had been stuck in trauma for so many years.
The BIG PUSH did the rest for me after I made the first move.
So now I'm telling you one vital thing.
If you want to heal, you need to tell the truth.
To your friends, your coworkers, your parents, your partner, your kids, your bestfriend.
Most importantly, yourself.
No one else is going to care if you are ever brave enough.
In fact, many people in your life count on you to stay perched in your nest.
In your discomfort.
I want you to be brave enough to leave it all behind.
And know you do not even need to think or plan or map out what is best for you.
All you have to do is honor yourself.
The rest is going to follow according to the moves you make.
Happiness is trusting the air beneath your wings will take you exactly where you want to go.
Embrace it. ♡
J.S. Jaded Savior
Today feels like a day to talk about f*ck boys.
We know them. We have crushed on them. We have dated them. We have been crushed by them.
For 28 years I walked around with an inkling that men who like to play games and hurt other people for fun were super f*cked up inside.
But simultaneously, I experienced dating many males who were "the best listener", "so supportive", "showed up", "were so funny", and "were on a self discovery journey".
I said things like, "he is young though. He is still confused about life".
A toy soldier.
One who was programmed since birth to march but in what direction, he did not know.
He did not know. Ever.
I wasted many excuses on men who were toxic.
And for that I was deeply disappointed in them and myself.
When the promises did not ring true.
When the bullshit surfaced and then I was too afraid to admit the abuse or the fact that I was wrong.
Back then, when i was in a group of girls all giggling and swapping stories of how romantic and AMAZING their partners were ----> I shriveled up inside.
But you best believe I told stories and I giggled.
Now, years after spotting abuse ---> honing in on my hyper vigilance ---> and gaining self awareness, I have realized something so disturbing.
Those amazing stories had similar qualities.
"And then he planned it all. It was so perfect."
"And he didn't even complain."
"AND he let me share my feelings. He wasnt even mad."
Or the worst...
"He said he was just really busy..and I get it."
"His phone broke so he left it home."
"His mom was like mean or whatever growing up. She never understood him. I understand him."
"His ex was like...CRAZY. yeah. Yeah. 10 calls in a row. Showed up at his house CRAZY."
Who does that?
Now I know.
When a man was:
Indifferent, charming to a fault, inspired by my feelings to NOT OVERREACT, had me thank him for listening, pointed out his patience and kindness, asked me to restate concerns when my attitude was better, or deflected my "issues ....MY ISSUES....
What he really was...
BUSY = Cheating
FULL OF EXCUSES = Can do no wrong
ANGRY = UNREASONABLY angry
INQUISITIVE = GUILTY
PREFERENCES = BULLYING
I though a whole lot about these past people in my life and how I met them. What they did for me in the beginning.
Things like "planning the date right away and going all out" did not at all raise a flag.
Why would being pampered raise a flag?
When he picked out my outfit and his to match.
When he planned his favorite food place and a movie right after at the theater that he always goes to. So much that the girl behind the counter rolls her eyes but gives him extra popcorn.
When he didn't ask me a thing as to not bother me and be chivalrous.
Was it though?
I realize now that what I would have done is asked someone what they like..had conversations about who they are..picked something personal.
But hey, the guy tried hard right? What is wrong with that?
We all "wished" a guy would try hard.
And that was the thing of it.
In the beginning of my abusive relationships, the guys tried SO HARD. But hard was actually just "their routine".
It was a routine.
And had I not been clamored by the details and the initiative, I would have maybe seen that.
Dating and opening up to someone...a healthy relationship.. it is not a routine.
It is not a formula.
It is just baby steps into each others lives.
It consists of silly, awkward dates.
It consists of asking questions and doing conversations for the purpose of forming a connection. A two way connection.
My exs were one sided.
It was me.
I was the side that was committed.
And on their end.
Their phone broke. They had an emergency. Their job ran late hours. They had to do something with their mom and forgot to tell me. They had to run errands and forgot to call.
On their end. I was crazy. I was paranoid. I was a worrier. I had anxiety. I was insecure.
I was insecure... where did that come from?
Pre-boyfriend I felt strong. Beautiful. Good.
I chose clothing for me. What I liked.
I did things for myself that I liked, just to feel good. And me time was not selfish. It was self love.
When I got a few mos in with these guys, self care was for them.
To serve and turn on and appease them. In the way they envisioned it.
"All my exs had dark long hair. weird. But yours is nice." He said.
"I am used to curvy girls. But I love your smile. It makes me feel good."
I made them feel good with my looks.
Like when I wore sweatpants and did not try.
Like when i was not in the mood to smile.
Like when i was not "in the mood".
"Come on, babe. Just do it for me."
I realize now too that many things I took for initiative were really about control.
I realized none of the presents were ever personal and came generically on time, OR in hallmark fashion ---> out of season and with a hauntingly paranoid feeling of "what was this for?"
When ex stories came up, they barely had any. Even though most girls smiled in their direction or they knew every girls name and partners name.
"Its not weird that he knows that, I'm social and I know peoples names." I would think to myself.
Yeah. But i dont have memorized every guys name that ever smiled at me and what his girlfriends name is. And where they live or work.
"I dont keep inventory of peoples behaviors and relationship statuses, because that would be weird right?...." I would justify it.
Yeah. That would be weird. Because I was focused on myself. Who I was. what I was interested. What my passions were. What my plans for the future were.
When I'd ask them, "what do you love to do?" , "what do you want to be", "what is your purpose and passion?" I ALWAYS GOT THE SAME RESPONSE from all of them.
----> I'm in between things.
----> I am meant for grand things. My purpose will find me.
----> I tried ______ but the _____ was so ________, I just didn't fit in there.
Again. These all sound normal right?
And who knows themselves at 16? 18? 22? 25? 28?
He was just "taking it a day at a time."
But I wasn't.
I had plans. Goals. Dreams. Passions.
And slowly, the guys would say the same thing. "What will you do with that? How will you even make a difference? What is the point of that?"
This was all in regards to helping people. Serving people. Working through peoples triggers and emotions.
Social work. Teaching. Counseling.
"Only crazy people need that."
There it was again.
Void of compassion or depth of psychological structure of the brain. Lack of understanding what it means to be human.
What did crazy mean to them?
Their "ex" was always crazy.
Mom yelled because she was "crazy".
Even I, when I presented accusations, was crazy.
Without facts ---> I was crazy.
These men did not validate emotions.
They did not put emotion and logic in the same sentence.
No intuition or self awareness of mine would convince them I was sane.
And they were professional dancers.
No, not tap or tango.
They danced around their words.
They had excuses and circle jerks around every single conversation I started that ended with them having to explain themselves.
Swirling and dipping around all the PROOF, a curtsey to dodge a date or time.
And in the end, I had "trust issues" that they just had to get away from.
While girls swapped stories of their dates and their sex lives -----> how he knew what he wanted and did what he did so well...
I felt like I was collapsing on the inside.
What about my needs? My ideas? My dreams?
What about my worth?
Self worth is conceited, according to his logic.
Even though he bragged whenever he was remotely good at something. An epic story.
"And you should have seen me, babe. First time up, and I was amazing. A natural. The best of the day. Too bad it was guys only. You should have been there."
Self idolizing, pedestal type inflations about their ABILITY.
BUT THIS WAS THE SAME GUYZ WHO EVER FEW MONTHS...in fact, like clock work, every 3 months had a crying and raging episode of self loathing and would text me things like "I can't take it anymore...." and then no reply. For hours.
I was left swirling. Foot work and body twisting around like a samba. No control in my mind but my body moved on point with familiarity in each step.
Abuse was a dance.
I stopped thinking the dance was cute when my gut proved me right.
When I'd get so much "evidence" and confidence in myself that I would .....
I would prepare to present it.
I would recite a breakup in my head.
And then, I would fall apart.
I would spiral at the loss of a love.
A one sided commitment that I worked so hard on.
It was like writing a 200 page dissertation, getting the format correct and nailing my theories ... only to LOSE THE ENTIRE PAPER AT THE END because I didn't save it properly.
Only a relationship that is one sided often lasts way longer than 200 days and the mistake of not deleting sooner can cost you years of torment after.
Years of wondering why they finally ghosted you. Left you for someone and then called you the next CRAZY.
Or worse. Said they needed to find themselves for a while and then deleting you out of their life completely.
But wait... what was this dance for?
Weren't we figuring out life together?
No. We weren't.
And you should have known.
From the first dates he planned himself.
From the many things he planned or bragged about.
He was the center of his own world and he never spent even a day planning along side you.
Not in bed. Not at dinner. Not for the present or the future.
I see it now.
How the group of girls talking about who's man is more amazing are all suffering.
And I can actually back it up now with DATA.
You see, it is not about them being wrong...
It is that their words are fluff and they do not have the self awareness to realize 3 out of 5 of them are in fact being abused.
Are experiencing gas lighting and manipulation, affairs and bullying.
They did not look for signs because no one has ever even held the conversation about them.
No one has sat their daughter down and said "these are the signs of an unhealthy relationship."
Instead we were told things like "he was mean because he likes you."
"Hes a boy so he doesnt know how to talk about feelings."
"Boys are no good at these things honey. We have to SAY what we want."
"He is just immature. He will come around with your guidance."
"Most men don't know what they want. That is normal."
It goes deeper than a "man being born this way".
Men and women are not taught healthy.
Women are taught to be supportive, selfless, nurturing, loyal, and effort full.
And though there are people who hold these conversations, there are kind men and healthy relationships out there -----> what I am talking about is NOT a critique or a judgement or a claim that healthy is not found anywhere.
I am pointing out the missed signs.
The missed red flags of abuse.
The subtle hints that when stretched apart look like little toe points. Nothing.
But when strung together, execute a pattern that is not usually broken until it's too late.
So what is healthy? How will I know healthy when I see it? When it is portrayed and shared with me?
Healthy is growing together as well as apart. It is a personal journey we are all striving to be on. So a healthy relationship will be tested a lot by two growing people with different thoughts, desires and opinions.
That is actually normal.
Making mistakes, not being perfect, laughing off a hard day, being humble in our qualities but PROUD when we achieve something... those are all human qualities.
Struggling. Struggling and questioning and worrying are human feelings. Not something we wield as a weapon on others.
And feelings are valid.
If you have a partner who feels invalidated and lost, they are not toxic .... they just do need growth.
But a toxic person, an abusive partner, mocks growth.
Mocks the idea of change. Of things being out of routine.
Routine = control.
A toxic partner will NEVER RATIONALIZE YOUR FEELINGS but will always validate their own.
Not with an explanation or truth. With questions as responses. With deflection.
Void of shame.
Know the signs. Speak the signs. Light the way.
And let it be known that you are not their Jaded Savior.
When an abusive person comes knocking or texting or dancing with ways you can solve what is wrong with them.
It's not your job to fix anyone.
You can only work on yourself and not make the same mistake twice.
J.S. Jaded Savior
Love and other things we find too intimidating, so we dabble.
We dabble in hearts.
We give 10%.
We dip a toe in it.
But if it seems too cold, we retract.
No, no. This is not right. Too hard to try and love this. Too much effort. And too much resistance.
When we meet, befriend, or are family with someone who is cold.
And it hurts us when they are distant back.
When their game face is the same as their "I love you face."
If you are empathic or a highly loving person, this is dangerous for you.
Yet you are in awe of the snow aren't you?
Cold things have an appeal to them.
It is that stark, quiet, resilient, strong exterior.
Ever notice how you feel playful and happy with snow once you play in it?
How delicate and unusual it is, to touch and get a taste of something that is quite deceiving.
It is actually quite delicate and fragile in your hand, isn't it?
In fact, cradling the snow in your palms you can see that it just melts.
And you feel warmth inside from this beauty.
"Look what I can do."
Let's talk about the love and intimacy issues an empath has when they fall in love with snow.
When they delight in the cold things.
Like a child, filled with wonder.
Looking forward to days off, to quiet play.
Let's talk about how cold, frozen things cannot be hot. Like...ever.
There is no warmth in snow.
Yet we look out for it and we choose it.
Let's talk about how falling in love with a narcissist, for an empath, is like leaping up Christmas morning to snow fall on the ground. Running outside to play, no coat or boots.
Running and twirling, socks getting soggy in the powder.
How a beautiful thing, a cold thing is so tempting that even when their lips turn a blueish hue and their teeth begin to chatter, they say "its ok, I am not cold."
Let's talk about how they will lay right on their back in the fluff, arms and legs spread out wide. Taking the snow right in. Absorbing it. Nose wrinkled, eyes shut.
"Just a little while longer."
And now, immersed in the deep end of the yard and burried in this puffy, cool blanket they finally look around at the vast white emptiness.
And the silence kills.
The empty streets, no one around for miles. The isolation snow has. Everyone else safe and warm in their homes while the empath lays there naked and shivering.
Wondering how she got so far away from the warmth, how the feelings got drained from her limbs.
What a realization, that snow does not bless growth -- but instead feeds on all it touches, to death.
How the snow did not warm for her after all. It just melted away into nothing, that is if it did not swallow her whole and take her with it.
J.S. Trauma + Healing Stories
A collective of stories about Trauma + Healing, to promote awareness, validation and support for Trauma Survivors.
Content mention of Rape, Abuse, Neglect, Addictions, Mental Illness, Kidnap, Molestation, Child abuse, Teen Pregnancy, Abortion, birth, body image, gender/identity dysphoria, sexuality, personal trauma, domestic violence and other extremely personal stories. Please practice caution. I am not a licensed physician or mental health professional. No medical prescribing is provided on this site, Only personal insights, experience stories, and advice; All stories published have had prior authorization. Questions? Contact Jean at: firstname.lastname@example.org
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