Childhood Truama - Tumblr Posts

The Things I Hear

This one's a bit worse actually, not like making you ball your eyes out, but it's personal, cathartic to a degree so, keep weary.

I heard you had a new family, the little boy you've always wanted. I thought it would hurt, thought I'd feel disappointed you finally found peace. I think a part of me wanted to, but no. I'm not leaping at your absence, but I never wished for you to fail. I'm a bigger person now, I'm not the little girl you thought was like her mother. Willing, excusing, not only of your behaviors, but of you.

As a little girl I understood why she did it, why she stood by you despite your faithlessness. As a little girl, I didn't understand why she got so angry she cried, cried to me, cried to you, cried to gods she didn't believe in. You broke a good woman some days, and I'll never forgive you for that; but I will forgive being human. Because at the end of the long, restless, days, you are still, human.

I gave myself time. Like I had given you. All the time we could need, and more, and nothing ever changed and nothing ever will and, I think I'm okay with that now. You don't make dying horses drink, you don't lead dead men to water, and I won't with you. Not anymore.

I heard you had a new family. Heard you've stepped up to your roles. Heard you found peace. Though never hearing from you, I almost relish in what I hear.

Thank you, For setting the example of what not to look for, not just in men, but in people. For all it was worth, you did leave a few good things behind. Besides me and the others.

The inner core of my being is screaming.

The Solstice body of the mind has slowly eradicated itself into an ever-growing void of pain that has been hidden out of sight and out of mind of the body. The pain will never go away from this Godless earth. The world has turned its back on this poor creature, so the soul of this being that was once pure, will now be tainted with the scars of the past, present and future of all that is unholy. This being is a sinful beast that will burn in the fiery pits of Hell.

THIS creature, that was once an angel was torn to shreds by the godless beings that were called to arms to help this once innocent creature. This same creature that had tried for years to get over its fears and challenges was succumbed to the drowning red waters of the sinful pieces of its torn body.

It begs for forgiveness, yet the beings around it see the prayers going on deaf ears, for they bashed the beasts head with a metal slide. The beast tried to walk it off as if it was nothing, but the blood and scars littered the poor creatures skull as it grew.

The creature has cried for years. It needs a home. it begs for a family. It is so tired of the stress that the world has placed upon it.

The creature is still crying. Please, anyone can you hear my screams.

my head hurts from memories and junk, i journaled, head still hurt :(

MENTALITY OF THE HEART [ An ORIGINAL FICTION]

Original Characters [WMBW ORIGINAL ROMANCE FICTION]

Rating: 16+

Author: Lynnetty L. Mubanga (AKA Lee (me🤭) )

#MATERIALIST

SYNOPSIS: Alice Monroe, At the age of 25, found herself working at the largest psychiatric hospital in the city, where her skills and dedication were highly valued.

Despite her young age, she had earned the respect of her colleagues for her professionalism and unwavering commitment to her patients. However, not everyone was quick to acknowledge her talents. Some older male colleagues dismissed her as inexperienced, while women of all ages admired her for breaking barriers in a male-dominated field.

Though she exuded confidence and competence in her professional life, Alice's personal life was a stark contrast. With a bubbly personality and a caring nature, she often found herself struggling to maintain boundaries with her patients, especially those who appealed to her maternal instincts. This had earned her the nickname "Mother Nature" among her friends, a label she wore with a mixture of pride and exasperation.

On the other side of the spectrum was Alexander Dante Bianchi, a 29-year-old Italian billionaire known for his ruthless business tactics and his irresistible charm. Women swooned over him, while men envied his power and charisma.

Despite his outward image of success and confidence, Alexander harbored a dark secret that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed facade. He battled with a severe mental disorder that he kept hidden from the world, fearing the repercussions of revealing his vulnerability.

When fate brought Alice and Alexander together, it was a collision of two worlds that could not have been more different. As his newly appointed personal psychiatrist.

Despite their differences, they found themselves drawn to each other in ways they could not explain. The line between professional duty and personal temptation began to blur, leading them down a path they never expected.

Would they succumb to the fire burning between them, or would they resist the inevitable pull of their hearts?

CHAPTER WARNING SYMBOLS⤵️

♠︎\♤= Disturbing Trigger Content\ Mild Trigger Content

♥︎\♡= Smut\ Mild Smut

◆\◇= Extreme Violence\ Mild Violence (Anything that leads to such)

♣︎\♧= Little To No Warnings\ No Warnings (Safe)

♠︎INDEX♠︎

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHANGER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

More to come...

I have a problem with guilt.

I am haunted by these specters

One by one

Till all I can see is the need for my damnation.

It is easy for me to get turned around in it.

Perhaps I can force down a couple thoughts

But all it takes is one big self-accusation

Then I am drowning beneath the broken damn.

Everything is my fault.

So my mental anguish tells me.

I am responsible for all the bad

Makes me easy to manipulate.

I gaslight myself for fucks sake

And always need to see the best in people.

Suddenly years are lost

While I'm still wondering

"maybe it really is me?"

Add to this a troubled connection to reality

And all the other psychological insecurities,

I risk reverting to that corner

Holding my head

Rocking violently back and forth.

I don't want to go to those dark places.

I don't see poetry in it like I used to.

I don't want to die

And I do not wish to feel compelled towards it.

My torturers have always been loved ones

Ever since I was a little child.

"I love you!

I'll never hurt you!"

While his hand is wrapped around his child's neck.

Kept repeating

Hurt by love.

"Be this do this don't you love god?

Wicked

Sinner

"How can you even face yourself!"

I always bowed.

Evolved to hide in plane sight.

Subservient

I never did anything of my own volition.

I didn't offer ideas or options

I just recycled what I knew they wanted to hear.

I became perfect

And was perfect

A marvelous reproduction

Of the conscience of the person talking at me.

I regurgitated their own words

"and it was good"

I mimicked their neuroses

"and it was good"

I broke me into a malleable putty

So I could be molded into their image.

I became a shape shifter

And disappeared entirely.

.

I have made a lot of progress.

Hurt the people I cared for most

When I turned out to be hollow.

Worse than hollow

Filled with raging psychic pain

From the life long concealment of my person.

A lie

Who professed to love.

Drew close to the door of my own extinction.

Saw what I had become.

Been fighting to heal

To grow and mature.

Yet somedays I still get low

Even after a stellar day,

Especially after a stellar day,

And begin to question myself

Wondering

"what if I am wrong?"

Guilt for being happy.

Guilt for being free.

Guilt for refusing the old pains

And the ones who caused it most.

If you didn’t grow up having to monitor and keep track of every eyebrow twitch, every footstep, every voice crack, every tone change, and all the other micro mannerisms of the people around you (cough cough your parents cough cough) then you don’t get to make fun of me for my social battery running out early. It’s a tiring existence monitoring everyone around you because your brain translates “not obviously pleased” to “obviously displeased”.

*check this user’s DNI’s before interacting*

This is for all the people that wish more happened to them so their truama/ truama responses could be “more valid”:

THAT IS A SIGN OF MAJOR TRUAMA BABE <3

*especially if you were dealing with emotional abuse because that often involves gaslighting <3*

And as for the argument of “other people have gone through worse”? UTTER BULLSHIT other people, hell, people around you could’ve gone through “worse” truama and that does not mean your truama is immediately invalid. You’re allowed to have your own thoughts and feelings without them being proportioned next to someone else’s.

My grandfather would pick me up from school, ask me how my day was, and if I expressed even the slightest bit of being unsatisfied with my day, he would say “oh well you know who never gets good school days? Starving children in Africa 😀”

Do you see how idiotic that sounds? Yeah, that’s what you’re doing to yourself every day when you invalidate your trauma. (Not calling you idiotic btw, just trying to prove a point. You’re not stupid, you’re being manipulated.)

Btw this also goes for the ppl with any mental illness (but particularly depression) that don’t have any trauma so they have nothing to “blame” it on and feel invalid. You’re depressed bc the world around you sucks. You don’t need trauma to see that.

Anyways stay safe, drink water, and try to be nice to yourself for a day!

*read this user’s DNI’s before interacting*

You think you can hurt me? The people who were supposed to protect me put me through hell and gave me emotional scars that will never heal. Oh yeah, and I still love them. 😀

*not a vent!!! Just random shitposting*

TW‼️ mention of ED⬇️

“Wow you ate all that??”

“I can’t believe you could finish that plate!”

“Seconds already?”

Yes and I have an ED so it was difficult. Shut up <3

Honestly though, the amount of times I’ve been told this and comments similar to these is just…..

My dad was like “you need to stop skipping meals!!” As if the reason I do that isn’t because he’s constantly made fun of my weight since I was 3 years old. (That’s not an exaggeration btw)

I still vividly remember when I was 3, sitting at my grandparents dining room table with them and my parents and my dad started on a 20 minute rant about how I was overweight and needed to start doing exercises. I WAS THREE.

Children remember every little comment. Don’t be a dick.

*read this user’s DNI’s before interacting*

The worst part about childhood trauma is that they never remember what they did to you.

“I never remember all these things you always bring up…” (actual quote from my father btw)

The second worst part is that you still love them.

Reblogging this for my fellow traumatized tumblr users <3

This is for all the people that wish more happened to them so their truama/ truama responses could be “more valid”:

THAT IS A SIGN OF MAJOR TRUAMA BABE <3

*especially if you were dealing with emotional abuse because that often involves gaslighting <3*

And as for the argument of “other people have gone through worse”? UTTER BULLSHIT other people, hell, people around you could’ve gone through “worse” truama and that does not mean your truama is immediately invalid. You’re allowed to have your own thoughts and feelings without them being proportioned next to someone else’s.

My grandfather would pick me up from school, ask me how my day was, and if I expressed even the slightest bit of being unsatisfied with my day, he would say “oh well you know who never gets good school days? Starving children in Africa 😀”

Do you see how idiotic that sounds? Yeah, that’s what you’re doing to yourself every day when you invalidate your trauma. (Not calling you idiotic btw, just trying to prove a point. You’re not stupid, you’re being manipulated.)

Btw this also goes for the ppl with any mental illness (but particularly depression) that don’t have any trauma so they have nothing to “blame” it on and feel invalid. You’re depressed bc the world around you sucks. You don’t need trauma to see that.

Anyways stay safe, drink water, and try to be nice to yourself for a day!

*read this user’s DNI’s before interacting*

I think something about my nonhumanity makes me very protective of the people I care about.

It’s either that or my childhood trauma and neurodivergency but either way

Like my true reaction when someone I care about tells me someone hurt them (emotionally or physically) is:

“Oh really you fuckwad? I will kill you.” And I always get strong phantom wings, claws, and teeth.

When someone expects me to know why they’re mad at me without telling me and suddenly I’m 6 years old again wondering why my dad won’t stop yelling.

When someone slams a door and suddenly I’m 9 years old again counting down from 25 to make sure it’s ok to leave my room.

When someone raises their voice and suddenly I’m 4 years old again wondering why I’m always screwing everything up.

When someone uses my name at the end or mid sentence and suddenly I’m 10 years old again wondering why my dad is making me clean up 7 grains of rice while telling me I’m worthless.

When someone says I’m too loud and suddenly I’m 10 years old again listening to my dad yell how I’m talentless and worthless and how I don’t mean anything.

When someone touches me without warning and suddenly I’m 8 years old again and getting weird looks because I flinch when anyone moves.

When my teachers tell me I don’t try hard enough and suddenly I’m 11 years old again crying in my room, careful to not be too loud as to not wake my parents.

I’m fucking trying ok?

*read this user’s DNI’s before interacting*

I have a question, for all those people out there who struggle with trauma.

How do you view your repressed memories.

Like if u imagined it as an object what would it be... Mines a box

Had to round out the bunch with a little Seeker 💫

I think Seeker was extremely treasured growing up.. but they should have been loved a bit more. Their destiny awaited them, and no one ever let them forget that.

Aaand now that I've done all four characters for 🌐7 Circles🌐 as kids (bby Klaus, bby Val, bby Kaz) I am NOT drawing another child for a GOOD while 🎉 lol ᵉˢᵖᵉᶜᶦᵃˡˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᶠᵒᵘʳ ᵃʳᵐˢ BUT! I'm now curious about what yalls ocs were like as little'ns!! Share one (or more) of the following about your ocs early days;

Something expected of them. Something they came to believe about themself bc of other people (ex. told you're annoying, or you're so smart). A childhood habit they've continued as an adult. How they were treated by adults. Childhood nicknames. Sketches or reference pics welcome but not necessary!

taggamez: @katenewmanwrites @smellyrottentrees @wyked-ao3 @lychhiker-writes @the-golden-comet @fortunatetragedy @cowboybrunch @zackprincebooks @urbiggestfan-01 @quillswriting +Open tag (no pressure tho!)