Just. For The Record, For Anyone Worried After Seeing That Post; Traumadumping On The First Day Of Therapy

Just. For the record, for anyone worried after seeing that post; Traumadumping on the first day of therapy is like. A good therapist’s dream. Like they WANT you to spill out your problems so they can help you work through them. When you only have an hour with someone once a month it is a Godsend for them to be able to just. Say whats hurting them right off the bat. The biggest problem I had at therapy was I became so conditioned to not talk about my issues that nothing was able to get done. So please, ‘traumadump’ to your therapist. Its what they’re paid for. They are trained to decompress, you don’t have to worry about them.

People talk so often about wanting to go back to the "good old days" of childhood and I can't help but feel some kind of way about it. When I think about my childhood, in an overall general sense, all I feel is fear and dread and relief that it's over.

It's like reminiscing about the good old days is so unrelatable that my brain just turns off. I hate navigating those conversations.

her

when the purple faded from her hair she said she liked the way it looked like the ocean the way her lover said her eyes looked in the sunlight; like the ocean the way she felt when her feet were pulled gently, strongly, underneath the sand; by the ocean the way the salt chapped her lips when she overstayed her welcome with the ocean when she said she liked the faded color, the grey green blue- the memories of purple chemicals breaking down the keratin of herself remade, brittle and neon and defiant- she meant because she was seaweed all along grey green blue floating dead in the ocean washed up, sticky in the foam on dry land honest in death smelling of the ocean

It's like:

Sometimes I want my nanny back even though I know she was selling coke on the side and probably endangered my life, all I remember is her hugs and teaching me to sew and making me snacks and not letting anyone hurt me.

And then I'm forced to reconcile how a literal drug dealer who harboured her fugitive adult son was a better mother to me than the woman who brought me into this world.

Your best is what you can do without harming your mental and physical health, not what you can accomplish when you disregard it.

My parents: what trauma?

Me: uh-