Kategori: Life story
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Those who love thunder
I had to wait in order to write this post. As of late, all the days have been too sunny. In order to revisit this part of the past I need earthshaking rumbles and crazy lightnings flying everywhere. Today is a good day. The first memory I have of really good bad weather is from…
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Shelter from the rain
Trigger warning – child abuse Furious drops of water cascaded against the windows and rushed in rivulets across the street outside. It was cold in the stairwell. We huddled on the marble floor, leaned back against the wall. I was probably the warmest of us, sitting on your lap and sheltered by your arms. Someone…
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Body triggers for switching alter
HUMONGOUS TRIGGER WARNING – torture, child sexual abuse I’ve wanted to write about this for a long time. If you were abused by the same cult as me – or a similar one – this could be vital information for you. I’m starting to be more co-conscious with alters that I have. One thing I’ve…
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Wild Dusk
Day and night, day and night, day and night. Night and day, night and day, night and day. Day and night… I’m balancing on the stone ledge of a flowerbed, singing those words over and over. It’s a monotonous melody and I feel slightly hypnotized. I no longer hear what other people tell me (”Stop…
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Stairs to my nightmares
BIG Trigger Warning – Cult stuff, child sexual abuse, physical abuse I see them in my dreams sometimes. Stairs, leading down. Hard corners and sharp edges, such that will really hurt you if you trip and tumble. The unforgiving kind. I always wonder what I’m doing there. I would never go to a place like this…
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Flower in winter
Trigger warning: child sexual abuse I can only say this much of my mother’s childhood, without giving away identifying details: she lost a beloved sibling, the light of her life and her one protector. Still worse, not one day passed without her and her other siblings being raped and hurt by their father. My grandmother,…
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Underneath the kitchen table
One of my first memories is looking up at the underside of the kitchen table. I know every white painted corner, every piece of metal and bolt by heart. The legs of the table are like guardian pillars, marking the entrance to my kingdom. If I sit very still and keep quiet, I am safe here.…
Writing our heart out 