Cora Lekki
New Here
Hi there,
Brand new to the forum. My snowglobe world was shattered last July when, on a long car ride back from St. Louis returning from a world of family f**kery, I listened to The Body Keeps the Score by Dr. Bessel Van der Kolk. It was then, after over two decades of nonstop abuse, neglect, and deeply misguided/abusive therapy, that I finally realized what had been going on: my life was so f**ked because all I knew was abuse.
Nine months later, I am better than ever. I am alive. I have the diagnosis. I completed therapy at my local rape crisis center. My days are no longer filled exclusively with "ED", "BPD", "addiction," and "manic-depressive" (all better known as *CPTSD*) behaviors. I actually live a little bit, and feel intense gratitude for being here. I even feel ecstatic at moments. However, each day is also a slog through the grief of my dead former self, the childhood that never was, the intense loneliness of a story so dark that nobody knows even 15% of it. People recoil from my pain. I feel intense shame. I feel out of place in my own body. I don't know who I am. I look in the mirror and only feel sorrow. It's tough not to crack open a cider (not a fan of beer) right now in the afternoon, just to take the edge off. And really, is a little alcoholism such a high price to pay for survival?
I just got off of the phone with Resolve, because the small people I have grown close to cannot handle this. That is why I am here. I am seeking confidants with which I can email and/or text and call. I want to become close. I want to hear your story. I want to hear exactly how it feels to you to cope with this fractured reality we are left to piece back together. I want to hear your rage, if you will hear mine.
What do you think?
Cora
Brand new to the forum. My snowglobe world was shattered last July when, on a long car ride back from St. Louis returning from a world of family f**kery, I listened to The Body Keeps the Score by Dr. Bessel Van der Kolk. It was then, after over two decades of nonstop abuse, neglect, and deeply misguided/abusive therapy, that I finally realized what had been going on: my life was so f**ked because all I knew was abuse.
Nine months later, I am better than ever. I am alive. I have the diagnosis. I completed therapy at my local rape crisis center. My days are no longer filled exclusively with "ED", "BPD", "addiction," and "manic-depressive" (all better known as *CPTSD*) behaviors. I actually live a little bit, and feel intense gratitude for being here. I even feel ecstatic at moments. However, each day is also a slog through the grief of my dead former self, the childhood that never was, the intense loneliness of a story so dark that nobody knows even 15% of it. People recoil from my pain. I feel intense shame. I feel out of place in my own body. I don't know who I am. I look in the mirror and only feel sorrow. It's tough not to crack open a cider (not a fan of beer) right now in the afternoon, just to take the edge off. And really, is a little alcoholism such a high price to pay for survival?
I just got off of the phone with Resolve, because the small people I have grown close to cannot handle this. That is why I am here. I am seeking confidants with which I can email and/or text and call. I want to become close. I want to hear your story. I want to hear exactly how it feels to you to cope with this fractured reality we are left to piece back together. I want to hear your rage, if you will hear mine.
What do you think?
Cora
