Meadowsweet
Diamond Member
It seems to be a regular part of accepting or talking about abuse for me.
The pattern is familiar to me: I help myself through the memory, I nurture myself and see the positives that I'm ok now. But then, it's like the tail of the memory is the realisation that I'm in a world full of people who really don't want to know about abuse.
There is a moment that I'm horribly aware, that it happened, nothing can change it, and I'm on my own with that. It's me who has to take the responsibility for it by myself, because somehow others feel it is too horrible or 'negative' for them.
Where are the strong and caring people who want to put the world to rights, as long as they can keep it at arms length.
I get angry. I don't act on the anger, but it gets to me. And I'm horribly aware that the only person my anger is hurting is me.
The pattern is familiar to me: I help myself through the memory, I nurture myself and see the positives that I'm ok now. But then, it's like the tail of the memory is the realisation that I'm in a world full of people who really don't want to know about abuse.
There is a moment that I'm horribly aware, that it happened, nothing can change it, and I'm on my own with that. It's me who has to take the responsibility for it by myself, because somehow others feel it is too horrible or 'negative' for them.
Where are the strong and caring people who want to put the world to rights, as long as they can keep it at arms length.
I get angry. I don't act on the anger, but it gets to me. And I'm horribly aware that the only person my anger is hurting is me.