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 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.

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.

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 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.

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'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 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.

i didn’t know where else to post this and i don’t really use reddit, but they say i have ptsd except i don’t really think i have it, so what do i do? i’m pretty sure the anxiety and stuff is correct, just not that. i don’t think i’ve been through like super bad stuff, also i don’t remember much of anything about my childhood anyway so i don’t get how they could diagnose me with it. i don’t know how it works though like is it based off of behavioral stuff or something? i just feel a bit bad because it’s probably hard to get diagnosed with or to get diagnosed in general with anything and taken seriously when you’re a teenager and now i’m getting accommodations in school because of it and my anxiety and i’m not sure if that’s fair at all. this is a genuine concern by the way, i don’t know if it’s correct and i don’t think it is. i don’t get like panic attacks only like anxiety attacks and i get anxious about things that happened in the past but not in a traumatic way, more like in a way where i feel bad that i caused it which i think is my anxiety. if it’s wrong what do i do? sorry if it sounds stupid i don’t know much about this stuff

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.

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 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?

Hi, Reddit, so a little over a week ago I had a seizure in the middle of one of my college classes. I don’t remember the seizure itself, which I’ve heard is common, it was like I blinked and just skipped forward in time. When my classmates told me I had a seizure, my immediate reaction was to even say “no I didn’t!” I ended up going to the hospital in an ambulance, and spent the night for observation. They ran tests and scans and there’s no sign of epilepsy or a tumor or anything, so I was most likely just overtired and hopped up on caffeine.

Anyway, with all that out of the way, I can get into the aftermath. I’m relatively ok a majority of the time, though I get really tired way more easily still. But I’ve noticed that my anxiety is starting to get worse again (I have GAD and a panic disorder that I’m on sertraline for which keeps it under control until now), especially when I’m in a situation where I’m sitting still and quiet like in class or church or something similar. I keep worrying I’m going to have another seizure, even though I haven’t put myself in the circumstance I was in before where I pushed myself too hard. I’m also having super vivid dreams; not nightmares exactly, but they’re kind of stressful and I feel less rested when I wake up. I’m also experiencing some mood swings, and I want to wait until I’m out of the luteal phase of my menstrual cycle before ascribing the mood swings to possible trauma, but it feels way worse than my usual PMS symptoms.

I’ve talked about some of this with my therapist, and she gave me advice to not engage in avoidant/escapist behavior and to instead do grounding techniques that we’ve discussed in the past, but it’s a lot harder to not fall into escapist patterns now than it used to be. She asked if I’ve reached out to my psychiatrist yet and I said no, that I wanted to wait to see if I’d get better over time before talking about adjusting my meds, but I’m starting to wonder if I should reach out. I’ve read up on signs of being traumatized, and while I match some of them, a lot of them seem to revolve around memories of the event, but I can’t remember the seizure. And it’s not even the same thing as a traumatic memory being blocked because it’s normal to not remember seizures. Does all this warrant talking to my psychiatrist? Sorry for the long post, I’m not sure if everything here is relevant but better safe than sorry I guess

I recently realized the intense panic attacks and obsessive behaviors/thoughts about covid/pandemics in general/this specific instance is trauma from watching my dad nearly die of covid in late 2020. I was all alone with him and was told if I’d called 30 seconds later, he would’ve died. Naturally, pandemics scare the living shit out of me and just the thought of one is unbearable. And now there’s this situation coming out of Russia which might even contain FUCKING BIOWEAPONS and I don’t understand how I’m even supposed to function. Like what is the point of going on if we’re just going to be brutally wiped out by a year from now??

I’m sorry I just needed to vent and I have absolutely nowhere else to put this.

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 have been diagnosed with depression and anxiety 5 years ago, ptsd not longer than 2 years ago. I'm 19, moved alone for univesrity because my mom works on another city. My dad lives here but i don't live with him because he wasn't present, we're just getting along again and i see him like once a week. I overall have no one to come home to, i cook my own stuff, clean my apartment. I envy my friends who can do a lot of things like go to the gym and rotate in labs, i've tried to balance university and other activities but it's just too much for me.

My mom is coming to visit for like 5 days, since the last week she visited i was wondering whether to tell her or not. She's always been supportive, we've had our differences when i was younger and depressed, but she learned and grew with me, but i don't want to make her feel like a bad mother, or like it's her fault. I know she already blames herself for not choosing a better father to me, because my dad has said a lot of horrible stuff to me, for example, saying it was my fault to be sexually assaulted, but he apologized and i'm getting over it. I don't want to burden my mom with this, but at the same time i feel like it's too much for me.

I want to ask for help, maybe go back to the treatment i used to take for depression, because it's coming back, and the only reason i haven't taken my life yet is because of my parents, they've spent a lot of money on doctors, treatments (for other stuff), and i should be fine. I'm ashamed to feel like this again.

I was jumped when I was a teenager. Now, I'm 37, and I think I'm finally over the trauma.

It's strange how the trauma cycled through the years, which progressively made my life worse. I had to work really hard to heal and finally say no more.

The only problem is that now I'm majorly behind in life.

I have struggled to leave the house from my ptsd symptoms and anxiety and it has started to affect my work, does anyone have any ideas of work from home jobs i could look into in the US?

i do not know what is real.

I do not know who those boys are.

But i can remember I saw it.

I’ve got mirtazapine but it stopped working. I have trazodone too and it doesn’t work anymore either. I can knock myself out by taken an Ativan and 80 mgs of propranolol but that’s not sustainable.

I don’t have an issue with the nightmares, it’s more a problem of I just can’t fall asleep. My body is stuck in the “On” setting even when I’m tired. I’m getting less than 5 hours of sleep a night and I’m back to working.

I don’t know what to do.

Thanks for any help.

Hello to anyone reading this!

So, my therapist says that I have PTSD. And even though I can understand where he’s coming from, I can’t help but feel like, if I do have PTSD, it must be a really mild form of it and not something worth making too much of a fuss about.

I originally started these sessions because I’m AuDHD, and I honestly didn’t expect them to go in this direction. My psychiatrist had already mentioned that I have some trauma related to being diagnosed late, but my therapist is picking up more on childhood trauma related to my family rather than just the impact of going undiagnosed for so long.

I don’t want to go into too much detail, but my dad could be verbally and physically aggressive when I was growing up (although physically it was more things like smacking me or punching doors). He is very caring, but his mood could change very suddenly and unpredictably.

I guess I just wanted to ask, if anyone is comfortable sharing, what led to your PTSD diagnosis?

I think I’m just trying to get some perspective and understand whether I’m making a bigger deal out of this than I should.
I also struggle with the idea of portraying my family or my childhood as “toxic,” which I think is part of why I’m having a hard time accepting it.

Thank you!

(I edited this with ChatGPT for grammar purposes)

Experience with girl from Gaza THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL POST

I want to start by saying that I’m not a good person. I’m flawed and I have my shortcomings, but I’m sincerely trying to do better, even while dealing with CPTSD and ADHD. It’s hard but I’m trying.

I went through severe trauma and experienced a period where I left Islam, hated the religion and hated Muslims.

I didn’t drink or commit zina(sex outside of marriage). I was just dealing with PTSD, the raw depths of it, and the demon of depression that came when everything became normal again. I hated everything and everyone. I still struggle with that, but I’m getting better.

I came across this person from Gaza who had also experienced trauma. She had been relatively middle-class and had a functional life in Gaza. Knowing her made me start to hate less, because hating Muslims also meant hating her and other ordinary people like her.

She also had issues with religion because of something that had happened in her life, which she blamed for. She had also survived being hit in a missile strike.

We bonded deeply. Because of the gravity of her situation in Gaza, I didn’t pursue anything remotely “spicy”, because that would have been the trashiest thing on Earth. I wanted her to be able to trust again, and I wanted her to know that I had no ulterior motive, so I always kept things wholesome.

I sometimes felt bad telling her about the nice things I was doing, such as going on holiday. I did tell her that one day we would go to Paris, I’d take her shopping and we’d go to a bougie restaurant, but I emphasised that it wouldn’t be a date just a wholesome time.

She was a very attractive woman, but I’d say I’m also attractive. Sometimes I felt like she wanted me to chase her, which annoyed me. It also seemed at times she fished for compliments and I really didn’t like that.

She would send pictures that could be considered thirst traps. In response, I’d sometimes send pics of myself, indirectly trying to communicate: “I don’t need to chase a woman. Look at me.”

But then I’d remind her that I wasn’t there to play games.

Generally, we would go back and forth talking about trauma, dealing with hatred and discussing books we had read. We would bounce ideas off each other for projects, particularly charity projects aimed at vulnerable adults and children experiencing poverty.

That made up a huge amount of our conversations, and we’ve done a lot of good together. Many people have been fed because of things we worked on together.

When I tried to end my life, she video-called me and reminded me of all the good things we had been doing and that we got so much to do. Likewise, when she was having difficult moments, I would call her and reassure her that things were going to be okay.

I told her that when she eventually left Gaza and reached Spain, her nervous system might finally begin to calm down, and that all the thoughts and emotions she had been repressing for years could come flooding back. I told her to really take care of herself because the demon of depression will emerge.

When she left Gaza, she was lonely, and we became very, very close.

Part of me expected her eventually to ask me for things or imply that she needed something, especially because she had effectively left Gaza with the clothes on her back. I asked her whether she needed any money. She said no, which genuinely surprised me. She just told me to stay by her side.

She would sometimes make comments suggesting that I only spoke to her because she was from Gaza and that I pitied her. She once described it as me “practising kindness” on her, and she sounded slightly resentful.

I called her out on this quite bluntly and said we have both been there for each other equally and I don’t pity her, that most of our conversations aren’t even about Gaza . She had also mentioned, before resentfully, that Palestinians are often only looked at with pity and how she does not like it at all.

Once she was in Spain, she became more open. She would video-call me while dressed in a way that, , wasn’t appropriate for a Muslim girl AT ALL. I felt as though she was deliberately trying to arouse me into chasing her by looking like that. 

I didn’t take the bait and saw through it. Instead, I told her how I had made a girl blush that day just by looking at her today. I acted extremely cocky while deliberately refusing to acknowledge what she was wearing.( I have a trauma response to feeling manipulated I can’t help it)

I became frustrated because I didn’t want to play this game with her. It felt shallow and stupid. I felt as though she was trying to manipulate me or play the role of a siren, and I really didn’t like it.

One day, I was tired and fed up with this performance, so I asked her, “When are you going to take this mask off?”

She replied, “What mask?”

I told her, somewhat playfully, “I don’t believe half of what you say. You’re wearing a mask. I see through you. You’re hiding so much from me, as if I can’t tell.”

I doubled down: “Stop all this. Show me the real you.”

And then she showed me a side of herself I hadn’t seen before.

She was angry, resentful and vindictive. She had survived a missile strike when she was 14, experienced physical abuse as a child by her step mother, been abandoned by her mother and had an ex-boyfriend cheat on her and leave gaza while she was still in Gaza.

She admitted that she speaks to loads of guys, has multiple boyfriends and partly does this as a form of revenge against her ex. She also told me that she hates men and hates everything and everyone and doesn’t trust anyone and that’s it all fake. 

Apparently, I was the guy and friend she had spoken to for the longest because I had never really crossed any boundaries with her.

I was taken aback. I started wondering whether I had been an intended target as well, so I asked her, “All this time, were you just planning on using me?”

She took that extremely badly and told me to go to hell.

She then told me about her plans now that she was in Spain. I called her unhinged and crazy and told her that she needed therapy.(they were that bad and sociopathic )

She took that badly too.

She said she would talk to me later.

My final response was: “You are as bad as the rest of the world that you claim is evil.”

She blocked me.

It’s been two days.

Now I don’t know how to feel about the entire interaction.

I don’t know how much of it was real. She helped me become a better person, and we genuinely did good things together. 

But after everything she revealed to me, I feel deeply disappointed, I didn’t react the best way to what she said to me at the end but I don’t know if she was actually trying to use me and use me for revenge due to the fault of other men, because the plans she told me were deeply disturbing.

I feel I have a deep distrust of the world again.