Hello everyone, I really hope you guys are doing well this week!

I’ve noticed that I’ve been struggling a lot with my eating habits lately and I know this is coming from the fact that I actually have been so stressed out since my abusive mother called the police on me on my birthday to throw me in the streets with my pets. That happened a few months ago and I’m still recovering from this episode

Since I had to change my entire life after that, I still haven’t been able to properly structure my life and routine yet. I know exactly what I need to have in my life that brings me happiness and peace, but I’m just not there yet. My nervous system has been in a constant state of shock and I’m resorting to food to avoid dealing with my emotions

Also, sometimes, I have so much going on in my mind that I don’t eat for hours, ruminating the past or thinking about my next step because there’s a lot going on in my life right now that I need to take care of (moving out of my current apartment, finding a new one, finding a trustable and reliable pet sitter for my babies as I’ll be spending a one month immersive intensive training at the Buddhist Temple, etc.)

Anyway, I’m posting this because I never realized I might have an eating disorder before but now that’s very clear to me because since I started doing Somatic Experiencing exercises I can notice the shifts in myself when I feel numb or hopeless or depressed or bored and my first thought would be to open Uber Eats and order something to eat. It’s also started to impact my finances and I can notice I’ve gained weight, but what I dislike the most is how much lack of control I have about this overeating habit

Could anyone share any tips, advice, recommendations, or even tell me a little bit more about their experience dealing with something like that?

Thanks so much!

I’m not really sure this is the right place for this but I am having a really hard time as of late. I am so sad so fucking sad and I can’t figure out why. I have adhd and autism and I have been working through my child hood trauma so idk if I can’t identify why I’m sad because of the adhd and autism or if it’s from the trauma. All I want to do is cry and curl up in a ball in a hole and never come out again and I can’t tell why I’m sad. I guess what I’m asking is has anyone ever dealt with something similar if so how did you learn to figure out the root of the problem because every time I think I have found it and will finally be ok again something happens and I get triggered again I feel like I’m going crazy because no matter how hard I try I always go back to being sad.
I really hope this makes sense if not please feel free to ask clarifying questions

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Hi, I am new to this community but have been in therapy for quite some time and I am wondering if anyone has any recommendations for good online support groups or anything else in this realm as I think it would be good to have a community to have support from in addition to my therapist as I’m pretty alone right now and lacking support. I did a search online, but it’s kind of overwhelming.

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I am 23 years old, and I have been living with chronic pain for 12 years.

I have been diagnosed with depression, complex PTSD (C-PTSD), borderline personality disorder (BPD), and fibromyalgia.

I have survived three suicide attempts, and I have been living on my own again for the past year and a half.

I don't have friends or family because my problems have become too much for others, and I often feel like people don't believe or understand me.

Over the years, I have tried different psychiatric hospitalizations, psychologists, psychiatrists, physiotherapists, and medications.

I feel hopeless, and I live with the constant fear that there may be no solution for my chronic emotional and physical pain.

So I would kindly like to ask everyone in this group: Does it ever get better? And what treatments, approaches, or solutions have you found that genuinely helped you?

I need hope to keep going. I have been unable to work due to disability for two years now, and I feel trapped in my own body.

Please only leave comments that are supportive or genuinely helpful.

Thank you for understanding.

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“18 months”

It’s been 556 days since you read my words, felt my wrath through verbiage most procured. Thoughts most absurd. Images most obscured.

I said my piece and blew with the wind. Never heard, seen, felt again.

But I see you.
You adorn my nightmares.
You interrupt my thoughts.
You distort my imagination.

But slowly you’re fading.
No longer parading.

I saw you on film.
The whole lot of you.
The core of my life.
The keepers of my memories.
The betrayers of my being.

I feel the tension in which you’re immersed.
I hear the silence you all sit in.
I see the ways in which you stare.
Despairingly, hidden, angrily, dumbfounded, confused, and lost.

You all have me on your mind.
Quietly looming over you in darkness.
An unrecognizable feeling, unsettling you, distressing you.
It’s me.
It’s the feeling of your betrayal. How it festers in you I need not care. You can feel it as anger towards me. Or think the delusion that this predicament is my fault.
Feel what lie comforts you.
I need not your blankets of insecurity.
I live, breathe, and feel reality.
You’re engulfed in oppression.

I feel warmth from the sun.
You deny its existence.

Let your thoughts wonder and ponder the past. The nostalgic family we were. The love, care, presents, actions, words. Look at them through her distortion, her narrative, their abuse.

Parents of grandiose nature the hindered our self for their gain.
Crumbled our life to build up their palace.

But look at us now. I’m standing outside your decrepit fort; outside the floundering family.
Breathless you still find yourselves from reading my words.
Mindless words still dribble from her lips.

I speak in truths while ya’ll live in lies.
I found my self while y’all sending spies.
I’m living my life while ya’ll’s withers and dies.

Hi, I'm asking for what helped you when you got your diagnosis. I recently got mine and I've since then been met with feeling a lot of disgust and self judgement and I don't want to self isolate or any other but I also am not sure how to really navigate all of this.. what do I tell people in my vicinity? Friends and loved ones? I am staying away from my mom, well, except that I told her I'm sad and unhappy with her and the world and she gave me an avoidant answer so I'm really trying to give me lots of love and support instead and I think if my friends know they can support me in this transition.

What helped you accepting your diagnosis? What helped you let go of the guilt, the shame, that you're broken and process the anger and rage that comes with knowing you did not come out of the package this way, this was done to you, and thus be angry with those people..

Thanks

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The Door

There is a room.

One wall is painted white.

There is a painting of a door.  

Painted directly on the wall.

It's a crude door. 

Crude, but solid.

Made from layers of rough sawn wood. 

To touch it, is to get splinters.

The painting is done in "super natural" style. 

I  see every crack in the wood. 

The checking of the paint, 

Reflections glint from the knob.

The door is labeled. "Enter here to find connection

The door behind me is real. 

Made in the same rough style.

It's sign says, "Return to your life"

I come into the room. 

I stare at the door. 

I'm barefoot, ragged cutoffs, ragged tee/

Time passes.

I’m Me again.

Fingernails broken from clawing at the door, splinters driven deep under my nails. 

Knuckles bloody from hitting the door. Shoulders bruised, black and blue.

Bones in my feet cracked from kicking at the door.

Tears of rage, now dry streaks,Adrenaline hangover, 

I’m shaking, I hurt. No longer angry. Just sad.

I turn from the False Door, limping back to my life.

To heal my body.

Soon I will come back.then come back and beat myself black and blue once again.

“What to talk about”

I feel okay.
Things disaster around me.
But I feel okay.
There’s a light swirling. A quiet twirling.
Chaos in the background.
But I feel okay.
Not much to ask for.
Not much to say.
I’ve triumphed obstacles throughout the day.
Here I sit, in pain of silence.
Waiting for the next wave to hit.
But I feel okay.
The edge is pulsating its will to crumble, but still nothing happens.
I feel okay.

So in this quiet moment. In this silent mind.
What do I write about?
Do I speak of good things?
That’s just not my way of thinking.
It’s not the life I’ve known.
Only terrible instance creeping around my mind.
Never silence, never peace.
Only bad, so only hurt known.
Only treachery and pain to echo through my writing.
So in this calmness, what do I say?
What conjures me so?
Nothing I can tell.
Not much I can surmise.

So what to say then?
What spills from me?
What ails me or frails me?
What grips me and rips me?
No stormy sea or begrudging me.
No frantic pacing, no heart racing.

An eire calm, a little qualm.

What’s to happen now?
What’s tomorrow look like?
How long’s this last?
How happy should I be?
What’s happy even look like?
What’s that supposed to feel like?

Fear wants to embody me now.
The teetering edge wants to give way.
The heart wants to outpace life.
Compulsion wants its power felt.

But still am doing okay.
I am feeling okay.

These emotions are banging at the door. But I feel somewhat separated from them. A glass barrier absorbing their blows. A clear shield silencing their howls.
Yet I watch unencumbered.
I feel unimpressed.
I feel okay.

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“Over it”

I’m so tired of the swirling head. The restless mind. The confusing tension.
The tingling beneath my skin.
The racing of my heart.
The frantic sense boiling my nervous system.

I’m so fucking over it I can’t explain.
Which just pisses me off more.
I’m so fucking angry it HAS to spill out. Onto my wife, my children, myself, my life.
Every aspect needs to feel my wrath.
Every person must heed my warning.
I am coming and I am bringing torment with me. I am bringing the heathens of lore. I am smiting your gods and idols. I will smother you out of existence and burn the ashes. I am the second coming, the beginning, and the revelations molded into one.
I am the king, the peasant, the jester, and your queen. But I am no longer anything not of my choosing.
I am the strong willed power of a thousand of you. I am the will and testament to the lies you betrayed.
I am the belief in me that you stomped to dust.
How could you have said that you loved me.
How can you live with yourself.
The fibs so innocent, but larger they became as reality set in.
The veil lifted.
The curtains closed on your play.
I saw the acting you did.
Your “care”, your “love”.
The true anger and frustration.
I see you now for the mask is off.
It took forever for me to admit the was a mask or acting; but now I can’t unsee it. I can’t seem to unfeel it either. I can say it here because these words won’t reach you. I can’t seem to get past it. Struggling are my days still. Frantic are my nights still. But yet stillness eludes me.
Mostly frantic and pattering are my moments awake. So calm stillness eludes me.
Peaceful rest a fiction.
Silent mind a fools errand.
But still I continue. Because death would only tighten your grip on the lies you spun. Like a monstrous spider lurking in the dark corner of our minds. Building your web of lies ever thicker, ever more dense.
But I’ve been clearing you out. Inch by inch I have been combing the spaces in my mind. Ridding it of you. Ridding it your horrid memories.

Forgotten traumas everlasting in the background. Screaming silently the misfortunes of old. I did not hear them, but I lived them. Now I feel them, and blaring now are their cries.

Without them I will no longer live. They are heard, seen, and felt. Over they whelmed me. Once lost in what ales me. No longer a stormy sea. Glistening warmth of light beams.
I might be closer than it seems.

Forever chasing an end to my trauma. But what’s the aftermath look like. What’s the emotions gonna be like.
I’m scared to be there. Maybe I am there.
Maybe this cycling is it. Never gonna end cuz it never seemed to stop. Relentless abuse and torture.
Endless twirling and swirling.

Lost again in its thoughts.

I’m freaking again. It’s coming again. The heart pacing, mind racing. Pounding heart beating my chest into airlessness.
Eyes darting, sickness ensuing.
Stomach drops.

numerous bad things have happened in my life, but the biggest thing that messed me up the most, which I won't discuss, concluded, insomuch as that the bad person got out of prison on my bday and parole ended also on my bday, and the cops *laughed* at me, very cool, not, but after I was able to verbalize it to the police, despite them laughing and not caring at all b/c it was "so long ago", I... became myself again? My trauma began to heal itself, and I've been working very hard on myself. I have so many things that are no bueno atm, but, and idk if it's bc i started taking plaquinel for my lupus over a year ago, bc healing coincides w/that, but, idk, I feel.... betterish.

I have extensive history w/therapy, and I have my entire everything about me figured out, self-discovery was insane, and I feel like my own brain is self-aware of itself which sounds kinda weird but w/e lol.

W/o going into too much detail, bc I don't want to, I just finally can put it out there that my CPTSD no longer defines me, it no longer controls me, but it does pop up every now and then when triggered, but the other day, I took a walk past the spot that the thing happened, and I haven't stepped foot there since elementary school, and I felt my heart speed up, I felt panic, and I had memories I had blocked out and parts of me had suppressed surge back into me, and I was able to keep them at bay, to not let them consume me, and I kept walking. I won't let that bad person control me, and I will sing, even if everybody around me hates my voice, like he said, but I've been taking informal singing lessons, and training every day, and I actually can sing, it just took me a very, very, very long time to be able to find my voice.

Things click into place on the daily, mind you, even now, but, I am going to be okay. I may not post here often, if not just this one time, but I wanted to put it out there, I am okay, I am going to be okay, and when I"m not okay, I have to remind myself that that too shall pass, and I will once again be okay.

That's all, thanks for reading if you did, never give up on yourself, because you are a person, and anybody looking at you from the outside just sees a person, and as simple as that sounds, it is the thing that helps me in times where I get lost in my own emotions, "I'm just some person to somebody else, and I'm just whatever outfit I'm wearing that day and however I am portraying myself, so I can be okay, because now, I am okay."

Anyway, recovery has been strange, but I can't yet verbalize it as to how, only that I Feel that way.

“Honestly”

How many times can I say the same shit. Over and over repeatedly.
I’m tired of trying to decipher my thoughts, actions, words, and feelings.
I’ve put in so much mother fucking work! Why can’t I enjoy the fruits of my labor!?
Yet I’m stuck dwindling in past realities, searching for the light to get me out.
But I muster and mold, decaf and rot, linger and cycle over and over.

Go down and down, further and further. Until I pull myself out a little, only to have another memory, another instance, another trigger pull me right the fuck back down again. I get no breath to hold me over. I get no rest to recover. I’m just down again, continuing on like I’m not struggling because that’s all I’ve done. It’s all I’ve known.
I’ve I let a break in, I’ll crumble to pieces.
I’m held together with tape and glue. Promises of a better tomorrow and a forgetful past.
But yet I cycle still.
Dying slowly wishing it come sooner.
Guilt immersing because I can’t do that to my children.
So stuck I remain.
Putting on the happiest face I can conjure up with what resources I have to build me up.
Still I’m held up with twigs and rope.
When will I break free from my oppressors!?

I’m tired of it all. I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times. Written it over and over again.
Said it so much that if I spelled it wrong my phone would change the dictionary.

But let’s not spit rhymes of rapping tones. Don’t want to get my hopes up of a brighter dream for me. That just leads to disassociation tendencies which end in me festering cold and alone in my bleak reality of unending turmoil cycles.

So what to do then?
Obviously continue on, that’s not even a choice. I have to keep going for my children. But how do I turn it to where I want to keep going for me? For my parts?
Where is the love and want for me?
Stomped out at birth.
Only recently have I started to ask myself, “what do I want?”

So, what do I want?
Peace, silence, solitude.
Fame, glory, recognition.

Can I have all of it? Aren’t I deserving of something for my efforts?

I bleed, cried, fought, and scoured my mind endlessly to get back what was mine.
My life.
How do I cope with only being ordinary now?

“Truly”

What do you want me to say. It’s just the same thing again. I’m struggling for some reason. I can’t figure out why. I just keep going. Move through it. Eventually notice that I’m through it before transcending again into the same feelings. Feelings which elude me from meaning. I have no recollection of the emotions they hold. No understanding of what ever I’m feeling presently. I just don’t feel well. I don’t feel right. I’m calm and panic. Frightful and encompassing. I’m well and dying. Bored and overwhelmed. Still and restless.
Two halves of an eternal hole.
Full spectrum of unrelenting convalescence.
But here I am still. Stuck ever wandering piles of ash and ruin for a city to inhabit.
Eventually I’ll be done, right!?
I’ve got to be. I can’t stand these feelings, this cycling, this torment, this unbegrudging turmoil festering my mind.

I won’t stand it another minute; yet days pass by before it’s in my rear view.
I won’t talk one more syllable of my thoughts; yet I’ve spilled out pages turned books on the matter.

Welcoming relief soothes me by the purging of these words.
Shall I conjure more as medicine to my ailment.

What more can be said again and overly exacerbated profusely.
What other words can I stack to tumble these emotions into oblivion.

I tire of this game.
I’m fearful in shame,
Hobbled and lame,
A flickering flame.

Words of discourse and of grandeur drip simultaneously.

I can’t be me outside myself.
My screaming internal dialog pleads for a chance at the helm.

But I’m too scared to let go of my hidden nature for that of the spotlight.

Anything at all you want to say but don't want to make a post. Victories and progress encouraged but certainly not required!

Please remain mindful of rule 5: Take all possible effort to Trigger Warning AND bury triggering content. Use typed TWs and spoiler tags if unsure.

Anything at all you want to say but don't want to make a post. Victories and progress encouraged but certainly not required!

Please remain mindful of rule 5: Take all possible effort to Trigger Warning AND bury triggering content. Use typed TWs and spoiler tags if unsure.

For backstory, I started writing off and on about my ‘healing journey’ (low key hate that description) in 2023 after a really toxic relationship and domestic violence. I got out and thought I found a healthy relationship after but unfortunately got knocked even harder on my ass in 2024.

Since then I have spent more time in a trauma response than not so it was harder to differentiate that from a baseline. And there are months that I don’t really remember. I’ve really, really fought hard to pull myself out of it.

But I still have episodes and I still have flashbacks. They are just shorter and easier to recognize now.

In 2024, I walked in on my partner attempting to hang himself. I found out I was pregnant exactly a week after and had a miscarriage that September. So the initial event was buried pretty well and overshadowed by trying to come to terms and cope with the events around my pregnancy and miscarriage.

A month ago, I had been doing really well but crashed out when I was training to do some outdoor training using ropes. Since I could actually remember it all vividly, I decided to write it out moment by moment to hopefully help anyone who might be googling ‘What does a flashback look like?’ Or to help someone who might not experience these things but wants to understand what it is like.

I also wanted to show what my internal monologue was like trying to keep the flashback at bay until I felt safe enough to ride it out and how I took care of myself after using binaural beats.

Overall, I just want to be able to help other people find clarity in the mental mindfuck that is PTSD or CPTSD. And if it helps even one person feel less alone or brings comfort that hopefully it can eventually get better, even after another bad day, makes sharing all my horrible life experiences on the internet completely worth it lol.

But this is a detailed account of both my flashback and walking in on him so please, please be cautious reading if those things trigger you. My intention is to help, not harm.

Anyway, I named the essay ‘Knots and Rope.’ And you can read it on my blog.

https://hawkmothrising.com/knots-and-rope/

Edit: I would like to clarify that this is just my experience with this specific flashback. Everyone experiences them differently and it manifests in many different ways!

“Tired of the shit” (rap)

Tired of this shit not working,
Times still hurting, I’m still blurting,
The same fucking shit all day long. Nothing bringing relief, not even this song.

Tired of the same fucking story.
All guts, no glory.
The same fucking bull shit I spew,
But it sticks like glue, gum stuck to a shoe.

Bring me peace on a silver platter,
Watch from below I climb this ladder,
Jump so high I fall and splatter,
Bring me relief from all the chatter.

Cries of my children smite me,
Can’t be the father I ought be,
Forever drowning a stormy sea,
Can’t stand to be with the likes of me. I see parents and their children laughing and smiling, while I’m stuck pilling and dying. I’m crying and lying, telling myself I’ll get through it, just fuck it and screw it. I knew it, from day one, I live a prison son, just cock the gun, I am done.

But I still wake up each morning, drowning in sorrow is boring, I’m snoring.
But I must keep going, keep fighting and bleeding. Watch the fruits grow from all that I’m seeding.
But the waiting is excruciating, I need to be revolutionary.

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Trying to tell myself this over and over again until I believe it.

I have had insomnia for almost my entire life, and also been fatigued/tired/exhausted. Since I was a toddler was labeled as lazy as a family "joke".

I've had medical tests, and it's nothing physical. I'm sure my constant exhaustion is from being hyper vigilant, constantly stressed and emotionally dysregulated.

I nap when I can overcome the guilt of not being "productive." Although when I am walking around in a zombie like state, that is hardly productive.

I received a late diagnosis of ADHD, and Adderall does nothing for my constant fatigue. I also finally received a medication for my insomnia, and even though I get a full night of sleep, I'm still tired:(