She wanted him dead. A car accident. A suicide. It didn’t matter. She thought maybe she could will it to happen and one day she’d be liberated. He had enslaved her, debased and gaslighted her. He’d owned her body. Brainwashed her mind. Stolen her money. His toxic stench percolated within her marrow. His phantom handprints …
It’s probably safe to say most of us love having pets. They’re expensive little attention whores who make huge messes and constantly demand our attention. But we absolutely adore and pamper our pets. They’re family. I’ve always been an animal lover. I grew up having cats and kind of thought of myself as a sort …
I’ve learned over the past few years that self-care is a critical part of recovery after trauma. I used to relate the term ‘self-care’ to taking a bath, drinking tea in my PJs, a nap, etc. But the reality is that PTSD sufferers view self-care as so much more than feeling warm and fuzzy. Sometimes …
A Prose Poem by Lily Bell Weekend I hear you arrive home as the garage door opens My gut telling me to run, the hair on my arms rising in trepidation Like a bull, you announce yourself as the door flies open and you’re on me Why aren’t you upstairs waiting? Why aren’t you naked? …
On a cold afternoon in March 2016, my family drove me to a suicide attempt. They showed up in court in support of my abuser. They wrote letters to the court saying what a nice guy he was. They sat behind him in a show of solidarity while I sat alone on the other side …
Well, the proverbial shit hit the fan a couple weeks ago. I made one last attempt to reconcile with family and it blew up in my face. It began when my sister reached out to me in her warm, fuzzy, superficial way. It gave me hope of mending the chasm that was left between us …
I’m estranged from my family. That means we have virtually no communication except for the random email I receive when one of my siblings feels some guilt or ulterior motive to reach out. When that happens, I usually reply with a series of questions or statements indicating that I have glaring questions about why they literally threw …
There are moments that take over my emotions so completely that I’m left astounded and wondering how I, the girl who never cried, end up bursting into tears. The PTSD is like a little monster buried in my belly. I do my best to keep it tucked away but it rears its head when it’s …
I used to think the word “trigger” was just an overused term that people apply to insult someone who gets offended or has their feelings hurt. But now being someone with PTSD my perspective has changed. I hate the word trigger, but I respect it. Because I’ve learned that the slightest little thing can ruin …
There was a time a few years ago when I was made to feel ashamed of my social media account “Muse87”. It was reinforced daily that Muse87 was a hateful, vicious, depraved, baby-eating whore. In fact, my life almost ended because my popularity enraged my jealous ex so much he lit my house on fire. …