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Freedomfrommypast's Journal (No Replies)

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Freedomfrommypast's Journal (No Replies)

Postby Freedomfrommypast » Thu Nov 01, 2018 1:33 pm

Moderator's note- no replies, please, thanks!

I don't feel like being interactive, but I also don't feel like creating yet another blog on the likes of WordPress or Tumblr. I need somewhere to track my mental health progress as I'm trying to recover from past traumas, and I hardly ever have the privacy to just whip out a notebook and start writing in/reading from it. I could use a journal app or something, but I actually do want to have this journey out in the open. Even though I won't talk here often, I feel more compelled to do what I have to do when I know I may have an audience. Plus if I ever do reach out for support, at least some people here might already be familiar with my struggle and can help me more.

I'll try to make a journal here in a little while.

So here's what my issue is: I am turning 27 in just three weeks, and I'm still stuck about ten years in the past. My teenaged years traumatized me. I haven't been able to move forward.

I was an outcast my whole early life. I never fit in with other kids or within my own family. My mother died when I was 8 and my father was physically and emotionally abusive towards me. I ran away from home frequently.

I didn't start making friends until High School. At about 14, I started meeting other freaks like myself. We grew in numbers as more freaks joined us. Almost all of us ended up dropping out of school and also running away from home. We started meeting other groups of kids who merged with ours. We were one big happy street family. I thought I finally found a place I belonged. I thought I finally had a real family.

But young adult relationships, platonic and otherwise, are almost inherently toxic. We had fun, but we f**ked each other up in many ways, too. By acting in place of each other's parent's, siblings, teachers and even doctors, we ended up leading one another down some very dark paths. Drugs. Sex. Demonic rituals. Ignorant, pseudoscientific medical advice. We were kids. We thought we knew it all. We lacked empathy. We lacked education and self-control. Our hormones were raging. Everyone started questioning their sexuality and sleeping with each other. Then friends started fighting over exes. Older people would join our group, so you had 20-something-year-old men sleeping with 15-year-old girls.

We did this to each other for years, and obviously since we were all each other really had growing up, we only got worse as we got older.

By age 21, I only continued to associate with a small portion of that group, as most of us did. We were adults, and suddenly we had responsibilities and couldn't find as many free resources for people our age anymore, so most of us abandoned the larger group and broke into smaller groups.

I got into an abusive relationship with one of the guys in my subgroup that eventually led to me losing the few friends I had left. Some of them I lost because I ignored them completely to be with my boyfriend. The others abandoned me because they took my boyfriend's side, and I never bothered trying to defend my side of the story. I didn't care. As long as I had him, he could smear me all he wanted. I was isolated.

Then we broke up. The only person in my life at that point was my brother, whom I was now able to visit more often since my abuser was finally gone for good. However, this did not last either...

I became homeless in 2015, and I am still homeless to this day. I'm in a shelter right now. But in December 2016, my brother and I had a falling out over politics that ended in violence, and we have not been in each other's lives since. My four-year-old niece wouldn't even recognize me now.

So here I am, homeless and alone, at age 27; single for over four years, homeless for almost four years, still overwhelmed with mental images and memories of the past. I don't even know how to begin reconstructing my social life, or what I even want it to look like. How close do I want my friends to me? Do I even want friends? Whenever I imagine having friends again, I just imagine fresher copies of people I already knew. When I imagine how to have fun with those friends, I just imagine doing the things I did with my past friends, but perhaps in a more "sophisticated" manner. Like perhaps instead of snorting cocaine off a toilet seat, let's get a motel room and snort it off a table like adults do!

I've even had the truly frightening idea of trying to befriend people within the ages of 16-21, since people in those age ranges remind me most of how my former friends were back when I still thought I was happy with them. I wouldn't dare think of befriending 14 and 15 year olds, though. Sure, it'd be creepy in a way, but I had 27-year-old friends when I was a teenager...which surely is to blame for some of my issues.

And the worst part, since it causes me the most distress... I still stalk the social media profiles of ex-friends and ex-lovers from that time of my life. In fact, my first step in my attempts to heal is going to be vowing not to e-stalk people anymore. It hurts me when I see that some of them are even still friends with each other and are having better lives than me (it seems). It angers me to see the kind of viewpoints they have now (one of my exes is a freakin' socialist now). It tempts me to know that a great deal of these individuals would still hang out with me if I decided to stop creeping and actually talk to them.

But I don't want to go back to that. I want a new life. I want new friends. New potential lovers. A new attitude. New ways of having fun; even if it's some of the same ways, I want them with new people, not just copies of people I once knew. I'm tired of ruminating and fuming over memories and slights from the past.

It's not gonna be easy to get past all of this, though. These things happened during the most delicate years of my life, while my brain was still forming. Those years were full of firsts, and I had no guidance but myself, other children, and adults with childish/predatory mindsets. It makes sense that I would be damaged, probably irreversibly, though I refuse to give up.

I mean, just imagine you dump a bunch of salt into cookie batter and then bake the cookies. The cookies are going to be salty. There's nothing you can do about it. The salt is already infused in every single bite of the cookie. That's what all that crap did to my young developing mind.

But I'm pretty sure there's some awesome scientific way to remove all the excessive salt from those cookies, even once they're baked. I'm hoping there's some magic way I can rewire my brain after everything that happened.

I might have to ruminate some more. Vent about certain things. Write letters that I never plan on sending. Just to get some stuff off my chest... and hopefully it won't make things worse.

I'm also going to do more self-discovery exercises.

And even though I'm very lonely, I'm not going to focus on making new friends or dating right now. First and foremost, I need to get a job and get out of the shelter.
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