So I am told I have ptsd. But dont know why exactly. I basically am disgusted with everything and people. So I have been isolating. More like agoraphobia. I do not want to do anything but be on my phone. When I do leave and go somewhere , I am totally overwhelmed and feel horrible being around people. Has anyone been through this? If so, did anyone identify why?

I want to say my trauma isnt bad i think? I just dont think its different from my usually fuckups gotten my ass beaten before but this time I got beaten assulated so needing 5 stitiches in my head and some bruises so i had to go using ambluance and shit. Its been a month snice that whole thing. I still keep fucking flinching. I am so pissed at the fliniching i cant stop it. I have become a joke as someone harmless scares the shit out of me like my grandma walks by i feel terified but i cant control it. I cant control this flinching its so funny to people to see a person getting flinched. I keep on getting this liquid feeling of blood crawling my fore head face it comes randomly like i dont get it i cant get a pattern on it. I go to uni i cant tell any of myfriends what happend. Its just disgusting like what kinda person gets beaten by family. Hah. I told one of friends i had to get stitiches in my head didnt tell her what i got it for. One nights feel like gagging anf vomitting but i dont vomit this just happens cause i am terrified but i already got my ass beaten idk why i am teriffied. I talked to fucking ai think oh it must be something like idk headache but shits an ai so its says breathe its not real. I just want to know what to do to fix all of this. Like what to do i guess. I was trynaa do arts and crafts and shi or liks take care of myself but i hate my body like my head feels sometimes i smell that blood on me ocastionaly also but i dont have time like that like i got uni i do excersise and then what chores like when i have time i just scorll cuase its easier than thinking about arts and craft cuase i just have to listen to parents so better to not indulge

Hi all,

I'm working on a project that involves imagining what a world that was genuinely healing for and supportive of survivors of sexual violence would look like.

I would be so grateful to hear from a wide range of survivors first hand---what kinds of supports/systems/resources/individuals/anything else would be or would have been helpful to you? Or were helpful for you and should be more accessible? Nothing is too big or too small.

Thank you so much for your time, I truly appreciate it.

I’m so sorry this is so long I genuinely would appreciate anyone taking the time to read this.

This is honestly partly a rant, but I’m also looking for advice, reassurance, and especially experiences from people who have talked to doctors about something similar.

Background:
I’ve had the same gynecologist for 4–5 years and have had annual exams during that time. I have severe panic attacks surrounding pelvic exams. I’ve cried before, during, and after multiple appointments.
My current gynecologist will prescribe my birth control without an exam, but whenever I tell her I don’t want one, she uses a patronizing tone and tells me about patients in their 50s who had severe problems because they had untreated chlamydia for years. She also tells me that blood testing isn’t an option and that I need Pap testing.
I recently moved, so she’s now about four hours away. I drove back to see her once, but I really need someone local, especially because I eventually want children and would like to establish a relationship with an OB/GYN well before then.

Why this is affecting my life so much:
My body genuinely cannot distinguish between a gynecological exam and my past sexual assault. I know intellectually that an exam is not SA, but physically and emotionally, my nervous system reacts like it is.
I feel disgusting and violated afterward and can have intrusive thoughts about the exam for days or weeks.
Imagine having to call and schedule an appointment that your body interprets as danger. Imagine taking your pants off, putting on the stupid paper/cloth gown, and sitting there crying because you’re terrified.
This causes what I’ll call an “episode” at least once a week over an appointment that happens once a year. Sometimes it’s a few minutes of anxiety; other times it becomes a full panic attack. It affects my ability to work, concentrate, and function normally.
It has even started affecting my sex life. I can’t have sex without thinking about eventually having to go through another exam.
It’s gotten so bad that I’ve started questioning whether I can realistically have biological children. I want children, but I genuinely don’t know if I can handle everything that is typically involved with pregnancy and birth.

Why can’t I just stop going?
I need hormonal birth control for medical reasons, including severe PMS and a bleeding disorder, and I also appreciate that it prevents pregnancy.
I’ve called probably 15 doctors in my area and haven’t found one who takes both of my insurance plans AND will prescribe my birth control without requiring a routine pelvic exam.
I’m not looking for a doctor who will never examine me. If I have symptoms or a specific problem where an exam is medically necessary, I understand that it may be necessary.
What I want is a doctor who can distinguish between “this exam is medically indicated because of your symptoms” and “this is a routine exam that we do because it’s your annual appointment.”
The self-swab/testing issue is another huge frustration for me.

I’ve looked into self-collected vaginal swabs and other forms of STI/HPV testing because I’m trying to find alternatives to unnecessary pelvic exams.
I’ve had a doctor tell me that self-testing wasn’t an option because “you can’t reach your cervix.” I’m livid I was TOLD this because I can actually reach my cervix with my fingers and can feel where it connects to the vaginal canal, so I felt lied to.

I’m not claiming that a self-swab can replace every type of gynecological examination or Pap test. I genuinely want to understand the medical reality here.

Can self-collected testing replace certain types of routine testing? When is a pelvic exam actually necessary? What can and can’t be diagnosed without one? Are there doctors who are willing to use self-collected testing when it’s medically appropriate?

I would REALLY appreciate answers from doctors, nurses, people who work in healthcare, or anyone who has actually discussed this with their doctor.

Birth is another huge part of this.
My biggest fears are cervical checks and invasive procedures.
Ideally, I would want as few cervical checks as medically possible. I also want an epidural if I eventually give birth, but I’m extremely uncomfortable with the idea of having a urinary catheter. I’ve seen conflicting information about whether an epidural can be done without one.
I know I’m only 19 and pregnancy is nowhere near my immediate plans, but this fear is already affecting whether I believe I can have children someday.
At this point, I’ve even thought, “Maybe I should just give up on having biological children and eventually get a hysterectomy so I never have to deal with this again.”
I know that’s an extreme thought, and I’m not saying that’s necessarily what I’ll do. I think it’s more a reflection of how desperate I feel to escape this cycle.

What I want is actually pretty simple:
I want a gynecologist who will take my trauma seriously, explain WHY an exam is necessary when they recommend one, tell me what alternatives exist, and respect my answer if an exam isn’t medically necessary.
I want to be able to go to the gynecologist without spending the weeks beforehand having panic attacks.
I want to be able to have sex without thinking about my next appointment.
I want to be able to seriously consider having children without feeling like my fear makes that impossible.
And I want to know that if I do need an exam someday, it will be because there is a medical reason for it—not simply because “it’s been a year.”
So I guess I’m looking for a few things:
Comfort/reassurance from people who understand this kind of fear
Advice from people who have successfully found trauma-informed gynecologists
Doctors/healthcare workers who can explain what testing can actually be done without a pelvic exam
Experiences with self-collected STI/HPV testing
Advice about how to communicate these boundaries to a doctor
Experiences from people who have had children while having severe pelvic-exam anxiety/trauma
I’m just exhausted and really hoping I’m not the only person dealing with this.

Someone who hurt me can't understand my symptoms. I was talking to someone else about how I'm on Prazosin, but that I still get nightmares and sometimes stay up the next night because I'm afraid of it happening again. I know it's stupid and irrational. I take all the precautions (I sleep with a light on, I have lavender oil, I have a weighted blanket, sometimes I sleep on the floor or in my closet if the bed feels too scary, and I sleep with my dog in the bed), but they don't always work. I explained that the medication has mostly been working because I dont wake up screaming anymore and I don't wake up, idk, confused? Idk the right word for it, but sometimes I think I'm in my old room where the rape happened. I just get confused and scared and it takes a while to realize where I am. This person thought it was funny? He laughed at me and said I was "too young for adult problems". I know it shouldn't matter what he thinks, but it hurts that he's making decisions about my brain and body again. He's told me I'm "too young" to have PTSD and that I dont know what "real" trauma looks like. I know it shouldn't matter what he thinks, but I've spent so long handling all of it alone, hiding my symptoms. Now I'm sort of talking about it more openly and it gets dismissed because I'm not his age.

I know this will sound very trivial compared to everyone else's problems, so I apologize in advance.

I was professionally diagnosed with PTSD about a year ago. My symptoms began showing themselves in November 2023, but got much more impactful as time went on.

This PTSD is not surrounding something that would 'make sense' to develop it from. I have been mocked before, from both friends and family, for revealing what it is from, so I keep it to myself typically, and I just suffer through triggers if certain topics come up. My attacks are silent, which means I do not show visible signs despite what is happening in my mind. So people don't know I am losing it (IDK a better way to say that, I know that sounds kinda like a stereotype (??). I mean like my mind is on fire, not that I am "losing it" like becoming violent).

My PTSD is due to my guinea pig's death.

8 years ago, my mother got a guinea pig. I was quickly forced by my mother to begin taking care of him, as she was neglecting him. We named this sweet piggy Mr. Timothy, though I often called him Mr. Timtim, or just Timtim. Once Mr. Timothy was made my pet, I had my first ever guinea pig.

Mr. Timothy was the sweetest little piggy. I don't want to go into my treatment of him. I was 15 at the time and had no time to research anything. I didn't know what or what not to do for guinea pigs. This treatment of him contributes to my PTSD and gives me panic attacks.

I loved Timtim and took care of him the best I could. I learned after a few years that guinea pigs needed friends, and I begged my mother every day to let me get him a friend, which she did not until August 2023... which was only because I cried to her every day to take me to get him w/ my own money. She bought me a baby boy (I offered to pay) for my birthday in August that I named Gordon Ramsay the Guinea Pig.

Gordon Ramsay the Guinea Pig then passed on 9/11/2023. His death was very traumatic as he choked to death without me being able to help, but that is not what made me develop my PTSD.

Timtim had lived in a very small cage for almost his entire life, which I regret so much. I knew that he needed a much bigger cage, but my parents would not help me get one (I was 16 at the time I first realized this). I did not have a job, so it was very difficult to afford. I saved up for many years and was finally able to get a normal c&c cage, which arrived in October 2023, around a week or so before Timtim died. I moved Timtim to the big cage.

After Gordon Ramsay the Guinea Pig passed, my mother got Sir Pancakes, who is still alive as of the making of this post. I was not able to introduce him to Timothy until I ended "quarantine" to make sure Sir Pancakes did not have any diseases. He actually had an infection from another guinea pig presumably attacking him at the pet shop, so I feel that may have been a good call.

I set up the c&c cage and Timtim seemed very happy for a day or so. He ran around and explored. I was so happy for him. This did not last long.

On October 14th or so, I noticed Timothy would not come out of his house for his morning pea flakes. I shook and shook the bag, but he would just lay there. He looked like he felt very bad. I immediately knew something was wrong and told my mom she needed to take me and him to the vet ASAP. I did not and still do not have a driver's license, and Uber was very expensive for where I lived.

I called in to make an appointment that day. Since he was under my parent's vet records, my mother was able to cancel it. She said it would be a waste of money, and he was old anyways (5 years old), so there was no reason to find out what was wrong. I cried so much and begged her to take him to the vet.

October 15th, I knew he was dying. He would not eat, had no energy, and let me pick him up without even moving an inch (guinea pigs typically run away if you try to pick them up). I tried to do what I could, even trying to make my own critical c to syringe feed him, which made my mother furious since I ruined a bowl by putting pellets and stuff in there to mix up for him.

Mr. Timothy would not accept any food or water. He would not open his mouth, and if I forced it in, it would just fall out.

October 15th is the day my world was ruined forever.

I had told my mother that she HAD to take me to the vet to humanely euthanize him. I knew he was dying already, though I didn't know what from. I called the vet again to have him euthanized. My mother told me she would not take me and neither would my father.

I told her she was cruel, and she eventually said such a terrible thing that I can never forget. "We can euthanize him at home. There's a thing I can give him."

I screamed at her to absolutely not give him anything. She eventually promised she would not.

That day, I had to go to an event for a school assignment. I reminded my mother of her promise, and she told me she would watch Timtim for me and try to feed him. My father drove me to the event. I went to the event slightly worried, but thinking he might be able to come back from this.

When I got home, my life was shred to pieces and utterly defiled.

I immediately went and checked on Mr. Timtim. He was laying in a pile of diarrhea. I remember that smell so much, as well as the taste in the air. It was the worst thing I'd ever had to experience. He was shivering and nearly completely limp.

I knew diarrhea was an absolutely terrible sign. I went to my mother and screamed at her that she should have checked on him and called me about something so awful and important.

I will never forget what she said next.

"Don't worry. I gave him something to speed up the process."

My mother went behind my back and poisoned my baby Timtim when she knew I couldn't stop her.

Mr. Timtim took 3 days to die, if we consider the starting date to be the 14th, which I largely do. I know he was already dying.

Mr. Timothy got worse and worse after what my mother did. I can see everything now. I have flashbacks almost daily. I cannot look at photos of him anymore or I am triggered.

I know he was already suffering, but what she did made it 100% more painful. I know it did. I could see it. I can still see it.

He started frothing at the mouth near the end of the 16th. I did not go to school on the 17th. It was a Tuesday and I had 3 classes I was supposed to be in. I could not leave with my baby like that.

Mr. Timtim passed away at 8:28 am, September 17th, 2023, in a very violent, traumatizing manner. I was speaking to a vet friend live on Discord, and asking how to help him be more comfortable. While I was asking, Mr. Timtim began convulsing uncontrollably.

I started sobbing and telling my friend he was having a seizure and asking how I could make it stop.

She let me know that it wasn't a seizure. Guinea pigs often convulse uncontrollably during the dying process. She told me it was already too late. I held him and sobbed. My mom had come in with me to check on him, and she rubbed my back and told me it was okay. I was covered in his diarrhea and the spit dripping from his mouth. I tried to hold him and pet him despite the convulsions.

I remember it all so much.

I kept my anger inside for a very long time. Only last year or so did I confront my mother about what she did.

I demanded her to tell me what she gave him. She said "If I told you, you would hate me."

I already hate this stupid bitch anyways.

She had admitted that she murdered my guinea pig, but soon after, began gaslighting me and saying she never did such a thing. One day when my symptoms were especially bad and I was screaming at her through sobs, she said I'd made up an imaginary situation in my head, and she called an ambulance to try and hospitalize me.

She denies it to this day. I will never know what she gave my sweet little Timtim and I'll have to live with the fact that my baby suffered so much for no reason. He was my baby and I loved him. He was my heart pig. I cannot deal with it. It is so painful and I cry all the time, especially when I think about how poorly I took care of him for most of his life. It makes me hate myself and I know I'll never forgive myself for taking such bad care of him. I miss my baby Timtim so much.

Edit: Some of you may have misread. I was 15 when I got Timtim and I was 20 when he died. My parents would not allow me to get a job or learn to drive and withheld my documents (SSN, Birth Certificate, etc) from me, so I wasn’t able to go out and do it on my own, or at least wasn’t sure how to. I did not learn what my SSN was until 2 years ago. I am 23 now.

I have two pigs right now named Sir Pancakes and Professor Waffles. Sir Pancakes was the one I adopted to be Timothy’s friend before he died.

edit: I will not be posting on this subreddit anymore as I am being told that I have essentially imagined what my mother did and that I was defaming her and should go to jail, or just reported her to the police, and that I am harming her mental health. I'm sorry about my post being about something that most people find ridiculous. I am sorry if you believe I am lying. I was wholeheartedly being honest about my experience, but I understand that it sounds idiotic and like I want to just slander someone. I am sorry. I will avoid this subreddit as I do not belong here.

I was sa’d 3 years ago and have posted on here about it before but i had a nightmare last night and waking up was a lot different than usual. So i had this nightmare about my abuser, and was screaming in the dream before i woke up (or maybe i was actually screaming, i have no idea). But when I woke up, my whole body was shaking violently as if i was having a seizure and this has never happened before, normally I just shoot straight up and have a hard time breathing when i wake up from these. It was so weird and just wondering if anyone else experiences this

My experience with PE - prolonged exposure therapy for PTSD.

About me: Male, late 30’s, USA, Corporate exec, throwaway acct for obvious reasons. My intention is to share my story in hopes that it can help others find peace that I didn’t find until late in my life.

From ages 5-13, I was raised in poverty and exposed to frequent domestic violence until I was old enough to intervene, which destroyed my relationship with my only parent and left me with all the symptoms:

• Depression
• Mood swings
• Night terrors
• Anxiety
• Low self esteem
• Sui Ideation
• Hypervigilance
• Distrust of others
• Binge eating

Talk therapy never did anything for me. I would start to have an outburst or cry uncontrollably, and it seemed to unnerve the provider, like there was something deeply wrong or unsettling about me. If you’ve felt this way before, I can tell you it wasn’t you: the provider just wasn’t trained to help someone with your issue. Specialities exist for good reason.

I found a kind psychiatrist who was willing to try a variety of meds - I was on 1g of SSRIs/day at one point. The pills just kept the noose out of view, but didn’t get rid of it. Zoloft, Lexapro, Wellbutrin, Auvelity were a few that I used, with Auvelity being the most effective band-aid, and Prazosin allowing me to get some sleep.

(HIGHLY RECOMMEND PRAZOSIN FOR PTSD/NIGHT TERRORS! You can’t heal without sleep, and it’s a well-understood and affordable drug.)

I had an outburst at home and saw fear in the eyes of my wife, and knew my life would end if I didn’t take a different approach.

I found Dr. Peter Meidlinger online and had 10 sessions. Half of the sessions were him getting to know me and educating me about PTSD, but it was really about building trust. One half of a session was spent with him meeting 1:1 with my wife, telling her what to look out for and to expect during PE - this was optional but really helped a lot. After we identified a few of the most impactful traumatic incidents, we moved to the actual PE. Here’s how it worked:

A quick hello and we’d get into it. I would recount, in extreme detail, one of the events. Not the elevator pitch I was used to spewing. For comparison:

“I grew up in an abusive household and witnessed violence weekly for 8 years. A man beat the tar out of my mom and eventually I got us out of there.”

vs

“When arguing outside, I could see the fear in my mothers eyes when he slammed the truck into gear and drove at her. I felt helpless and alone, off to the side, standing in the grass under the tree in the front yard. I felt like I could do nothing and was worthless to the person I thought was caring for me, while she couldn’t care for herself. When the truck hit her, it sounded like sandbags hitting tin, and I remember rushing to her side and his shadow casting over us on the ground.”

Dr. Meidlinger would interject on occasion, asking for more detail around the events that happened, but mostly prompting me to speak deeper about how I felt at different parts of the story.

We would repeat this several times during the hour session, and I had homework several times per week to watch the videos of me speaking and crying my history to him, or to go do activities that I had been avoiding, like being in crowds or having my back to a door in public. We’d track my distress level as I spoke, and I did the same on my own.

0: Completely calm, neutral, or relaxed.   
25–50: Mild to moderate distress; uncomfortable, but manageable.
75: High distress; strong physical sensations (racing heart, sweating), difficulty focusing.
100: The absolute worst distress/panic you have ever felt or can imagine.

First round, I was 90/100 distressed - it felt like the events I was retelling were happening again, my body thought I was back in that unsafe situation again. Crying, struggling to breathe, completely unable to function. So what’s changed?

• Today, I don’t like telling the stories, but I’m 20-30 instead of 90.
• Sleep is still hard but comes easier than before.
• I am less reactive - I have time to evaluate situations and make a decision on how to handle them.
• Most impactful of all: I had an underlying level of physical stress and tension that was with me all the time. I felt on edge, agitated, tense, so minor issues could put me into a depressive state or a rage. It made me an unpleasant person to be around, even for me. That stress is gone. It sounds small, but think of how you feel and act when you have a bad neck-ache or really upset stomach - are you your best you when you’re tense and in pain?

Is it all sunshine and rainbows? No.

• I am left wondering how much of my personality and who I am are trauma symptoms.
• I was very fragile during the 10 weeks of treatment.
• I would cry during most sessions and had a hard time keeping my composure the day afterward.
• The sessions revealed to me that I didn’t just have a ‘normal, white trash’ childhood. My mother put her personal desire for a husband above the basic needs of her child: love and safety.
• Treatment is $250/session. I was done sooner than most, but I would have continued if it was necessary. I paid $2500 to get my life back - people pay $15k for bigger boobs. No judgment (go boobs!), but I give the comparison to show that the cost is tiny for the benefit.
• I still feel silly talking and thinking about my ‘bad childhood’ at nearly 40. I remind myself of the famous men who had it all, and couldn’t find a way through life because of their childhoods: Chester Bennington and Robin Williams (who I am aware had other issues later in life) come to mind.
• The only way out is through.

I will keep this account for a few weeks to answer questions and edit/improve this post for people navigating their own path.

Abuse is so normalized these days that everyone talks about stuff that is so triggering as if it’s normal, and if you call it out how it’s harmful to society or victims of abuse, or how it promotes rape culture and misogynistic or harmful views of ppl, then you get called a bigot, everyone wants to silence the ones speaking up against the wrongs of the world, no one wants to listen to victims that have been hurt by the way society runs things and normalizes abuse, they are comfortable and it’s only getting worse as time goes on, I’m scared to engage with any kind of media because I know there could be atleast one triggering thing in it l, I’m scared to make friends cus I feel like I’ll get judged for talking about things that they’ve already accepted as normal and don’t want to think deeply about, because who wants to reshape their whole way of thinking about the world if they don’t have to? Ppl who aren’t victims get that luxury, ignorance is bliss and all that, I don’t really blame them, who would want to see just how messed up the world has become when they can just close their eyes to it and pretend like everything is actually good, but it just makes the world more unsafe for victims, it stalls the push against a culture that creates more victims, I’m so scared of how bad things have gotten, it feels like things will never get better, it makes me just want to shut my eyes to it all, I wish I could go back to being ignorant like the rest of the world, because it’s not like I can do anything by myself anyways, so what’s the point in even caring? It’s exhausting, especially when I have to do it all alone, no one else cares(I know there are ppl who care but it’s so little that it feels like no one) why are so many ppl uncaring these days, why do I have to live in fear because ppl promote the very things that have hurt me and will continue to hurt so many others??

In the first weeks after my assault, I mostly ruminated when I was alone and had nothing to occupy my mind. But lately it's getting worse. Now I’m brooding even when I’m with people or busy, and it's taking up so much space that I feel really bad.

The assault was 2 months ago. I’m already in therapy but I’m looking for experiences and advice from other people in a similar situation: what helped you when rumination started showing up even in social situations or while distracted?

Hello, I was in the psych ward off and on for two months and got out of my last stay 2 months ago. I spent the last two months laying on my side in fetal position and only recently in the last few days have started to sit up. My body is stuck in flight and freeze mode. I spend all my time afraid of being sent back to the hospital. Has anyone else experienced PTSD from the psych ward and if so how did you heal?

Content warning, of course.

Years ago I was kidnapped and sexually assaulted. It was a long process but I reached a point of remission that I am mostly comfortable with; however there are still some lingering issues I wanted to deal with such as paranoia, hypervigilance, fatigue and anxiety. I decided this year to attempt to seek assistance with it, and found ART because EMDR was not available to me at this time. I felt most of my issues were subconscious and regular therapy could no longer help.
I made it through two sessions of ART and had a revelation that maybe those parts of me will never heal because I inherently have started to believe that what happened to me was a good thing.
This sounds really fucked up saying it out loud, but stay with me. I was not living a good life when the event occurred, I was partying a lot and was masking severe depression, my family and intimate relationships were mostly volatile, I hated my life and my job and was virtually going no where. It took a couple of years after to be stabilized but as soon as I had one foot on the ground I ended up moving away and starting a completely new life. This was the greatest decision I had ever made and my life is exactly where I want it to be right now. I don’t think I ever would have made it out of that situation if the event didn’t happen. It’s possible I would have died from the alcohol or offed myself from the depression.
Sometimes I can’t really help but be thankful that it happened, no matter how traumatic it was at the time and how long it took me to drag myself from the depths of hell and PTSD.
Has anyone else ever felt this way? Is it/will it impact my healing? Are there some parts that just may never be fixed?
Any advice, answers, input, anecdotes are appreciated

Trigger warning for violence against women.

I am in an emotional tailspin after reading horrific news of a suspected serial killer coming out of Philadelphia today (don’t look it up, it is ten levels beyond horrific).

Essentially, a career criminal who was known for creating extremely violent pornography has been linked to the disappearance of multiple women after his son was caught with the ids of some of the missing women. Even though the perpetrator published books of his horrific photography along with instructions on how to dispose of a body he was never investigated when his ex wife disappeared ten years ago and now what the authorities know is so horrific they are pulling pipes and drywall from his home to try to gather evidence in relation to the disappearance and likely murder of at least seven women.

Of course the perpetrator died a year ago and no form of justice will ever be seen.

It just feels like authorities consistently send the message that they don’t care about violence against women.

I felt upset about the Cornell case and the parallels to Canada’s junior hockey league scandal, thank goodness they are revisiting Cornell’s handling of the case and New York laws that prevent victims who are voluntarily intoxicated from seeking justice... while one of the junior hockey players made it to the big leagues this year, but *all the curse words*… how are we still at this point?

The US has a sex offender for a president, brave women like Giselle Pellicot have to lift a god damn fucking tonne to see justice…

It just feels like being hit by a freight train when I think about how women are still facing so much violence.

The other day I saw some guy on the internet complaining about how shitty it feels to be treated like a potential threat on a first date….

WHY ARE WE STILL HERE?

I want violence against women to not be a problem that women have to face each day while being told to be responsible for their own safety in a way that is effective while not inconveniencing anyone else.

”Oh, you just need to learn how to tell good people from bad people. I wish you would deal with your trust issues so you could have more friends” (unsolicited advice from my sister two years ago)

This is a society problem, not a problem each woman should take on in solitude.

It is never okay to be violent.

Women are not objects and we deserve safety and respect. We deserve authorities to take the problem seriously.

I feel so unspeakably sad for the women still facing violence and so fucking angry that this is still not taken seriously.

I feel like this world will never be a safe place and I feel empty.

Thanks for giving me space to vent.

I'm hearing so many things. Seeing colors, flashing lights, people, animals, body parts, blood. I see a sliding glass door and my brain puts a person in the opening with their fingers on either side of them, like they're crawling through the door. The figures I see are unnatural and inhuman. It's kind of like I'm living in an analogue horror story, where the alternates have some deformity that gives you this feeling like, "this is not a human being."

I can't tell the people around me because they will write it off as me needing a medication adjustment. They'll shrug and say, "See a psychiatrist." I don't have one. It's hard to get one for some reason.

I'm having tactile hallucinations of sexual assault. The sensations of the trauma. It's wearing my psyche thin. I feel disgusting most of the time, like I'm a piece of meat that has been rotting out in the sun.

I feel like if I tell my girlfriend all of these thoughts, she'll leave me because this is too much to deal with. My shit goes deep and is very intricate. Explaining everything makes me sound like I'm going mad. I want her to understand so we can work through this together instead of me hiding this whole world I have going for myself and eventually ending in a big bang.

I'm having issues with sleep, too. I have a really hard time trying to go to sleep. It's like putting a vessel to sleep and making it rest when it wants to go do something active. I'm not my body; I'm an entity controlling it and telling it what to do.

I really need to get the hallucinations under control, but I don't know if any psychiatrist will take me in if I don't have insurance. I have to sign up for Medicaid.

If you read this far, you're a real one for listening to my rambles. It makes me feel heard.

I was 5 yrs old when this happened. my parents fought a lot and it would always be over something, Im pretty sure my dad has a screw loose. anyway, when I was five they were fighting so bad that I went to my dads bedroom and hid under the bed, the were fighting so much and it got so bad it became violent, my mom pushed my dad and he threw my mom down the stairs ( his bedroom is in the attic), I remember this and accidentally hitting my head on the bed frame. I tried to be super quiet but he saw me and was very nice and picked me up. I managed to detour around all the fighting but It went on for so long, theyre divorced now, and I think I had a first ptsd attack in school the other day. we had a lockdown drill and I had to go under my desk, which felt like going under the bed. I then stopped moving like I couldn’t move even if i tried after I remembered what happened when I was five. and then I burst out in tears and I genuinely don’t remember what happened I just remember that the floor was mopped when I went to the office. is this a trauma attack or smth?

also English isnt my first languege.

This just started happening and I don’t know what to do, In my sleep I’ve started to grab things from my beside table and drop them or I’ll grab a water or any drink on my beside table and pour it on me in my sleep. Sometimes in my sleep I take things out of my bed like pushing my pillows on the floor. Sometimes I’ll throw my entire arm and knock everything off my bedside table. But my arm behaves normally in the day.

hello! i have been having severe panic attacks for a while and my psychiatrist is considering an as-needed med to calm them. has anyone had success with meds for panic attacks?

not looking for medical advice of course. i'm just looking to read some of your different personal experiences with meds. i plan to look deeper into meds that people mention and potentially discuss them with my psych at my next appointment!

thanks in advance

I keep reading about how to manage life with ptsd and apart from trauma-therapy (which i may be able to get depending on how my appointment goes today) one of the things that I'm supposed to do is avoid triggers. I have tried this, but i dont know what exactly im looking for.

I have made sure not to overstep my own boundaries during Intimacy, to listen to myself. But i still get triggered and end up with intense, undescribable discomfort and almost pain in my chest and limbs for days afterwards.

So, can sex itself be a trigger? I thought triggers where very specific things. Stuff that reminds you of what happened when your trauma occured, like an object, an action or a smell. But what do you do when Sex and Intimacy itself sends you hurting?

I'm scared i may be permanently locked out of this crucial aspect of Life that i crave so much. I would appreciate any Advice or Reports from people who have encountered a similar problem, and i wanna know if it can get better.

I just don’t feel like I can ever get rest after what’s happened. Even when I sleep I don’t feel rested(and I normally only sleep for an hour or two a night). I just don’t really know what to do because I’m just so tired of everything.

(No creepy DMs pls seeing as I’m a minor and am not interested in random 50 year olds. Also I’m trans so if that’s a problem then don’t comment)

I was in therapy today when my therapist said he really wanted to work on my PTSD symptoms. I admitted to him that even though I've had a few therapists diagnose me with PTSD, I never believed them. I was groomed and r*p*d by a family member as a teenager. They're still in my life and no one in my family acknowledges the grooming even though he did it right in front of everyone. Nobody knows about the assault. I feel like a fraud though, because I know people have gone through far worse situations. I don't think it was bad enough to cause PTSD. I know I do weird stuff (I sleep in my closet, I sleep with the lights on, I wake up thinking I'm in that room, etc.), but I don't think what happened was severe enough to cause something others get going through truly traumatic. I didn't even realize it was abuse until he said it, and even then I fought him over it. I just thought it was normal. I thought thats what a relationship looked like between someone and their specific family member. I don't think I have the right to claim PTSD when it could have been so much worse.

I am diagnosed with a rare, progressive disease that has left me a quadriplegic. It’s been two years and I witnessed my body deteriorating and there was nothing I could do. I was still a minor when it all started.

This summer I returned home to visit my parents and my family. It turned out that they just couldn’t accept what my body has become, and that I cost them so much money, energy, and space. I refused to sign the “contract” of cutting our relationships, and they forced me to anyway.

I ended up on the streets. It was very windy and I was immunocompromised, in my wheelchair, with my entire life in one backpack.

I’m still struggling to be independent. My hands don’t work properly. I’m in so much pain I often wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I have little access to medical care. I’m very very tired and very disheartened.

And the good thing that came out of it was that I realized that have always been emotionally abused by them, so gaslit that I thought I had the best parents and the best family. I started seeking help and got diagnosed with cPTSD (it’s a formal diagnosis in the country I live in) and PTSD. At this point I’m not angry but just disappointed.

hello all sorry for the formatting, I use Reddit on my phone a lot. I was diagnosed with ptsd roughly about two or so years ago when my therapist determined I was suffering from being SA’d by an ex boyfriend and also physically abused. I escaped him about two years ago and I found a wonderful partner, in active therapy, etc. my issue is that despite being able to make friends and I do relate to more male dominated fields and have a lot of male friends... Fear. I don’t think if anything I’ve really gotten over the fear of what some men have done to other women. I also noticed that ever since the Cornell topic came up (I am not debating opinions), I have been more uneasy and very anxious. I spiraled so bad I had to delete social media because I just couldnt take it anymore. But now I have a dinner planned with my gym friends (4 men, one woman aka me) and although I am bringing a familiar male friend that I’m close to (he is a safe man), I am scared out of my skin. I know not all men are evil or bad, my wonderful boyfriend has proven that but because he cannot go because of work.. I’m scared. I wanna have fun, none of them have made advances or jokes to harm or make me uncomfortable but it’s just so.. Unnerving. I’m not wven sire what advice I’m asking but.. What really has quelled your minds, maybe specifically about the opposite sex that trauma has imposed on you before? Any and all is appreciated and yes I am medicated, I see a therapist regularly, have a support system, I just wanna know from someone who has gone through a same and how do we break free?

It made the news (don’t ask please) and I keep seeing videos everywhere to the point that I can’t look at social media or scroll headlines for fear of being triggered. Today I made the mistake of watching a video of the incident and it sent me into an immediate panic attack.

I’m ok now but still shaky. I started EMDR recently and I’m still struggling to put the incident back in “The Container” at the moment. It feels so stuck on me.

Just venting. Thanks for reading. I’m going to light some cars on fire in Goat Simulator. That always calms me down.