Over the holiday, I had to endure yet another slew of testimonials from family members about this or that time they prayed and god of course came through for them. One stuck with me - the person was telling about a storm that happened in the area her daughter lived, many people died, but god answered HER prayers and he daughter was spared. Told it just like that - no irony, no self awareness. History is told by the victors, and religious testimonies are given by the survivors. I prayed, I survived, ergo god is real and protected me. Oh, those folks that died? Must not be favored, maybe that was gods plan, etc.
I made a comment on a post not that long ago that several people said should be it’s own post. I’m going to paste the comment in it’s entirety, then add some more info after.
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I’m seeing so many comments urging OP to go to the police. Honestly, it makes me angry. I get it, y’all are trying to help.
I was raped. I was a minor. My mom reported it when she found out. The police were downright rude to me. Asked me all sorts of question about if I just regretted it, what I was wearing, if he really raped me. The guy was 21 and I was 15. No matter which way you slice it my case was clear cut. He got me pregnant. Undeniable proof that he, a grown man, had sex with a minor. I was sneered at by the police that were supposed to protect me.
At trial I had to be subjected to his defense attorney all the while being stared down by his mom and his sister. When I was leaving the courtroom his mom cornered me and screamed at me for ruining her sons life. No one from the courthouse intervened, my mom did. There was a cop and someone from the victims advocacy office standing right there and they just watched.
At sentencing I had to listen to his mom talk about what a great guy he was and how it was all just a mistake. The prosecutor was the only part of the legal process that was nice to me.
It was reported when I was 7 weeks pregnant. He was sentenced the day after my daughters 1st birthday. The entire time was filled with cops coming to talk to me, testing being done to make sure I didn’t get any STDs, talking to the prosecutor, talking to detectives, and sitting in a courtroom.
I will NEVER report again. Ever. Period.
OP carried no guilt here. Trying to help her with the feelings of guilt is 100% ok (the guilt is all too real, and I still carry a bit of it 16 years later). However this trend of trying to talk someone into reporting makes me angry. Do not add guilt or burden to a survivor of rape. She clearly stated she doesn’t want to report. That is her decision.
Reporting isn’t just filing a report and walking away. It’s a year, at minimum, of telling people exactly what happened while they belittle your feelings, sneer at you, and make comments about “regret doesn’t equate to rape.” OP said she was very drunk, she invited him to her place, she invited him to sleep in her bed… she will face a very hard road to “justice” and it will be lined with people insulting her. She was not in the wrong. She did not deserve to be raped. She should have been respected. S
... keep reading on reddit ➡I met a friend back during treatment because we both had osteosarcoma. We both had it in the same leg, same bone, she was a month older than me, I was only a month ahead of her in treatment, and we both had similar interests. She lives across the country and there were a ton of similarities in our treatment, but her cancer had spread to her lungs and now it’s spread to her brain.
I just saw her, two weeks ago. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I just got accepted into an program and I got the email and I called my parents to tell them and as soon as I picked up I knew there was something wrong and then my mom told me that her parents had called and she’s in surgery and I just feel so, so, sick. I’m out here living life, applying to scholarships, doing whatever the fuck I’m doing with my life and she’s still in this hell that I can barely look back at now.
I can’t talk to my therapist because of MLK day and she’s taking the week after off. I don’t know what I’m fucking doing anymore. This stupid acceptance letter keeps weighing over my head and I can’t even look at it or feel happy about it because I just feel so fucking selfish.
I’ve been talking to this guy who’s in a similar situation that I was in, same age as me now. He has osteosarcoma, he’s going through treatment, he had it in the same fucking leg I did and he’s asking me if there’s anything wrong and if there’s anything he can do. Anything HE can do??? Aren’t I supposed to be helping him????
I had another friend back during treatment, a few years younger than me. Osteosarcoma, same fucking leg. It spread to her lungs. We were always roommates back and our treatment schedules would always match up and we would always share rooms because the nurses would put us in the same room and we’d watch stupid romcoms. She died recently.
I can’t think straight. I feel like history is just repeating himself over and over and over and over again.
Sorry for ranting. I made a similar post but I deleted it by accident. I wasn’t sure how to flair this.
I lay awake at night now knowing that millions of innocent lives were lost to the nazi fascist trump supports on that fateful day. Yet I'm still here. I know that I didn't do enough to stop this from happening. I was not in the same state, and I slept through the entire thing at home. I should have done more. I should have been on the front line fighting the nazi forces. All the deaths from jan 6th are on my hands.
This doesn’t even have to be country specific, but we “got out” of our home country a little while ago and now have an overwhelming sense of relief and guilt for leaving friends and family behind in a country where most people are far worse off than where we are now. All countries have their problems, yes, but I feel like we escaped something and I can’t even really place the feeling except to call it survivor’s guilt. Especially when I read the news from back there. I wish I could have taken some of my friends and family with us who are really suffering under our home country’s conditions and everything just seems to be getting worse there. Can anyone else relate to leaving your home country for a better one and feeling guilty for getting out?
My fok(hoopelik word dit toe gelaat). Alles wat ek op kyknet en via sien het iemand survivors guilt. Nou gewoonlik sou dit my nie pla nie. Maar ek het survivors guilt so. Dit is soort van 'n trigger.
Block the entrances Close the door Seal the exits Because this is war All gave some Some gave all But for what I want to know Carry on Don't mind me All I gave was everything And yet you ask me for more Fought your fight Bought your lie And in return I lost my life What purpose does this serve A folded flag A purple heart A family all but torn apart I fought with courage to preserve Not my way of life, but yours Carry on Don't mind me All I gave was everything And yet you ask me for more Fought your fight Bought your lie And in return I lost my life What purpose does this serve The cowards preach from pedestals With words and courage and resolve But one thing that'll fuck 'em all 'Cause is freedom isn't free They send our daughters and our sons To deserts under burning suns A sacrificial slaughter to fill The pockets of the weak An artificial enemy Are we so easily deceived? Come, carry on Just walk away How many more sent to their graves In this lesson ignored? I fought your fight Bought your lie And in return I lost my life What purpose does this serve? What purpose did I serve?
I got a TT job before defense (they hired me ABD). I love the job, love the teaching, and am incredibly grateful every day. But I feel increasingly awkward/guilty when I’m in my grad cohort environment versus work environment. Like, everything sucks on the market that I just feel guilty having a job. Do other early career professionals feel this way? I just feel awkward.
Anyone else is experiencing this bad. I’m literally shaking by what happened yesterday, I seen a guy get carried out and he was so gray and blue. I can’t get his image out of my head. I just can’t believe this shit happened man those poor people shouldn’t have died I’m just at lost for words
Water in the lungs,
Misplaced fluids have me
Gargling rocks with every breath.
It tastes like survivors guilt;
Makes me feel like I did
Back when we huddled
On the same raft
When we promised each other
That neither of us would be the one
Who drowns.
Only I washed up on that beach,
Retching salt, pouring from every crease of
Me. Smiling because I made it.
Not realizing what it means to make it.
Burning sensationalism coursing through
Me. Waterlogged, feverish, giddy-kissing sand,
Scraping grit from scurvy gums,
My calcified heart.
I swore I wouldn’t look back then,
Smothered myself in paraffin wax,
Moved to the middle of the desert
Mocking salt pillars for their impiety;
In reality
We were never lost at sea.
But I still fear
Looking over my shoulder;
I still fear the water
How you can never know how many bodies
It has swallowed.
How the oceans chase you and
Settle into your lungs on cold days,
How they bring visions of phantoms
Pocked and marred by rotting maggot burrows.
I tell myself
I have never looked back.
Still, when I cough,
My lungs heave salt.
When Tai and Shauna are waiting for Nat to make the money drop, Tai says something about how her and Shauna's good fortune in having families is "just fate, right?" She feels sorry for Nat because she has nothing and no one.
What if spilling blood in modern-day civilian life has (apparently) led to good fortune for them the way it did in the woods? What if Tai's worldly success, even before her Senate run, was accompanied by nocturnal episodes where she spilled blood? Maybe she never believed there was really a connection before... but now she does. (This could connect to her eloquent confession that none of her worldly accomplishments have "felt real" to her.)
Consider this: Adam pops into Shauna's life AFTER she kills the first rabbit in her garden. (She eats the second rabbit she kills AFTER meeting Adam, but the first rabbit slaughter happens before her car accident.) Maybe the "coincidence" of running into Adam at the hotel could be connected to killing the second rabbit.
I predict Jeff's furniture business is going to do phenomenally well in the second season. A dramatic question might be: Does it do well because Shauna "spilled" Adam's blood... or, using the rituals described in Shauna's journals, maybe Jeff and Randy Fucking Travis are getting into a little ritual sacrifice of their own...?
These predictions are really just me having fun, because I'm a writer myself. I don't care if they come true or not. I enjoy being surprised by this show. :)
Make it so after one of your friends dies on a hardcore server you randomly start sobbing and typing “it should have been me” in chat (you can’t control it)
I wonder, in sleep
If eyes burn towards me
A little girl lost
In the silence of screams.
The kind that haunt dreams.
The lackluster must rise
With the birth of a day
Beneath brambled, cold crowns
Of young life laid to waste.
That’s the cost of fate’s trade
A price I must pay
The cut of a string
Worth more than gold’s weight.
Still, you stand at my side
Hold your breath for a time
Showing beauty you find
In death of all kinds
Speak in cotton mouthed lies
Say it ‘wasn’t my time’
But lost life stays a crime
That could have been mine
I will have been NC with my only living parent (mother) for 3 years this coming March. I don’t regret the choice at all, my life has become so much better since I made it. However, over the last three years I’ve developed a real fixation surrounding my younger sister. As kids, I was her protector and we confided in each other every day about our borderline mother’s outbursts and abuse. As she aged and never moved out, I watched the enormous, amazing personality of the little girl I loved slowly recede. As she gave in to our moms need for an enmeshed relationship she became more like her in attitude and opinion, and less and less willing to see our mom for what she really was. Now she’s 29 years old, has never moved out, never cooked for herself or been intimate with a partner, doesn’t have a checking account in her own name that she can withdraw money from without our mom’s help, and is basically living out a very prolonged childhood in isolation with our mom.
I have tried many times over the years to get my sister help, to get her into therapy like I was doing or help her move out and start her own life. She rejected all of it and when I told her of my decision to go NC, she decried it and refused to see the reasons I was cutting our mother off.
For the first couple years we would email each other, with me getting responses from her maybe every two months or so. She stopped responding this year and I haven’t heard from her in about 9 months. I can’t even be an internet creep and check out her social media accounts to see how she is, because she has none. She talks to basically no one but our mom.
I vacillate between being being incredibly guilty that she’s living inside the nightmare that I got out of, and being deeply, DEEPLY angry with her that she never even tried to free herself. I miss the sister I had when I was a kid but it feels like that person was consumed years ago by our mom and I’ll never get her back. I also live in fear of the possibility that when our mom dies, my sister will try to turn me into the new mother she can remain dependent on.
I'm so tired of hearing everyone say it wasn't my fault. I'm tired of hearing everyone apologizing.
No one else was here. No one else was 10 feet away. It's not anyone else's fault, it's just the truth. I was right here.
How did I not know how close to the edge he was? Why couldn't I see it?
I knew he was struggling but he fucking promised me that he wouldn't leave as long as I didn't leave him. I did my part, being with him was effortless. Being with him was like breathing. Apparently being with me was significantly harder.
I remember two weeks into our relationship when we were in high school; I wrote out our "monthaversaries" out to 6 months. I fell in love with him the minute I saw him, we were drawn to each other. I thought we felt the same way.
When he was in the army and we weren't together, he talked about me to all of his friends. There isn't a day that's gone by since 2008 that I haven't thought of him. He was my soulmate, he said I made him believe in soulmates.
It's like there's not enough air to breathe, it's like my whole life if broken. I'm staring at these shattered parts of me and people keep saying it'll get easier and that I'll be able to pick up the pieces.
I don't want it to get easier, I don't want to pick up the pieces. This is how he left them so this is how they should stay. I deserve to feel this way, I deserve worse. He needed me and I let him down.
Every day I wake up and wonder how I'm breathing, how does my heart keep beating? Why am I still here? He was my motivation. I was working on my anxiety, I was learning how to cook more, I made and packed lunches, I did laundry, I scheduled appointments and set reminders in his phone, I just got a new job that pays so much better. We were gonna get a new truck, we were gonna get him a motorcycle.
He was the better one of us and it's not fair that it was him and not me. For fucks sake, I have a brain tumor. It should have been me.
I just don't understand it. How can this be real?
And what pisses me off is the fact that people will act like the cause of the problem is also the solution to the problem.
Toxic. I know. Miserable energy? Yeah, but they deserve to be miserable, too.
Random Friendly PMC I met helping me look for extract.
https://reddit.com/link/rh6oz0/video/obmxmeau8r581/player
Hey everyone, after my sister died my close family is just my mom and I. Often times, whenever I go out to see my friends, or sleepover at their house, I get this gut wrenching feeling that I’m abandoning her. For New Year’s Eve, I’m going to stay at a friends house for a few days, and I can’t help but picture my mom alone in the house all sad. We’re not celebrating Christmas or NYE, and this is my final NYE before going to college. Is this a part of growing up, or am I abandoning my mom?
So this is a part of me I don't really explore much. Only this year I told my family after years of holding in secrets. They don't know the extent of it and its because I feel guilty and stupid of the situation I put myself in. I actively sought out the attention of older men. It's not till recently did I realise why I did that but at the time I was putting myself in dangerous situations. I was lonely and wanted attention and I thought the only way was sex. I was around 14 when inappropriate things started happening between me and men 30+. I remeber at the time being depressed and numb. Even remeber sitting on a swing after an incident thinking to myself "I don't feel anything right now. Why? Maybe a few years down the line I might." I knew it was fucked up but it was the only attention I was getting. I was gifted money and presents. I was complimented and sought after for the first time in my life. But I can't help but think about all those poor kids who didn't have a choice. I feel so guilty about being emotional about my past because I was so actively involved. Even some of them have messaged me recently like we were in a relationship or past lovers asking me how I am and how's life. Like I know something is wrong but I can't help feel like I did it all to myself. Especially with how they have reached out to me later. Idk it's all a mess tbh
I've read up a bit on the First World War, and it turns out that Elliot actually was at a slightly higher risk of being killed than those under his command. The casualty rate for officers, both senior and junior, was actually higher than that of ordinary fighting men. It was common for senior officers to be in the trenches, visiting the men....and that caused them to die in disproportionate numbers compared to other wars.
It must be said, however, that the overall casualty rate for the First World War was quite low for the British at least. You were more likely to be killed in the Crimean War(A war fought in Europe in the early 1800s) as a British soldier than in the First World War. If Elliot was French or Belgian, on the other hand.....he'd probably be too scarred to even open the puzzle box.
Not only that, but I have read that PTSD was quite rare before the Cold War proxy wars.
This all leads me to believe that Elliot has survivor's guilt, as Doug Bradley put it, and not PTSD. Which means that he probably was 'cured' in some way by saving Kirsty and Tiffany, as it allowed him to realize why he lived and his fellow soldiers died.
This could also explain why he's so chill in Hellraiser III.
My friend got into a heartbreaking car crash where he lost his girlfriend and blames himself since he was the one driving and survived. It’s been 4 years and he’s still in so much guilt and pain. Is there any way I can help or books, advice? I haven’t met or dealt with anybody going through what he has before.
i really need some advice because i’ve been struggling lately. so when i was eight i had one sarcoma in my leg and i had two surgeries to remove it. every since then i’ve gone back to the hospital for mri’s and iv’s and x-rays and all that jazz. for a while it was every 3 months, but then it was moved more and more and here i am now, 15F, and i have just been cleared to come onlh once a year for just a checkup with my oncologist - no mri’s anymore. anyway, the point is that lately i’ve been feeling really weird about things. it started when one of my friends (who i haven’t really talked to since march 2020) got sarcoma as well. now i’ve just been thinking about my experience more and more, and everywhere i turn there’s some mention of cancer - we learned about it in school, we talked about it at my club, and in our school musical someone gets cancer. i’ve been feeling - i don’t know. traumatized, for the lack of a better word. but i feel like i’m just making all up in my head because for six years, i’ve been fine and have always said either that i didn’t really have cancer because i didn’t need chemo therapy or anything like that or that my cancer wasn’t that big of a deal and didn’t affect me. but now i cant stop thinking about it and it’s affecting my life, kind of. i just want to forget about it again, but i also feel like i’m just being dramatic and making this all up in my head because for the past six years i’ve been completely fine. what do i do?
Hi everyone, I’m new to the group so I’ll start with an introduction. I was 10 years old when I had multiple brain bleeds resulting in paralysis on the left side of my body and right side of my face. To make what could be the longest story short; I’m lucky to be here. I think. I’ve always felt off about “why me” but I’m scared it’s reaching new levels. Let me start by saying I would never self harm, physically at least. I self sabotage practically everything good for me which I think should count but I’m not in bodily harms way. I’m just so tired of ruining things for myself and others. Especially others. For as long as I can remember I’ve been peoples “hero” and a “blessing”. I don’t feel like that though, I feel like a bad person. I’m not trying to wish away anything and I’m so grateful for gods plan but how did you guys overcome this? Outside of just therapy or meds, I’m talking internal help. Hoping somebody out there can lend some advice. Apologies if this isn’t the point of the group - I just feel so out of options.
A friend shared her trauma story to me about her childhood and the fact that her close-in-age sister was molested by their now-estranged father. This was discovered and broke the family 30 years ago. The father went to prison.
My friend continues to hold many angles of trauma from this and lamented that there is a dearth of resources on this part of recovery. Lots of resources discuss how the family can show empathy for the abused child, but nothing around how to engage the survivor's guilt experienced by the other family members.
Does anyone have a recommendation of books or podcasts that may help on this subject?
My brother was murdered three years ago for an ex. And I have two younger siblings still with emotionally abusive family... having almost been killed by my ex a few times, I already feel it, thinking I should have been the one to go. But I'm also going through it, knowing my younger siblings are stuck there, and all I can do is text this year and send presents. It's really overwhelming
