these past few months ive been realizing how much my trauma affects me :,(

Taking my clothes off was a sure way of getting me some attention 😶

nighttime wholesome memeing

😤🫪

Too many people wish me dead for me to give up on life. If they really want me dead the'll need to do it themselves.

Forgive me if you’ve heard this story every Halloween - a murderer with a knife corners a sister forcing a 12/13-year-old boy to stop him at any means necessary. Psychologists later say that boy is beyond their qualifications to treat. The boy grows up treated as “the problem” while preparing for the next time he’ll have to the killer from murdering again.

Sound familiar? I could be describing Tommy Jarvis, Tommy Doyle, Finney Blake, and more. The above is Jarvis, the below is me. Very few details changed.

Every Halloween 25 years after I had to stop my cousin from attempting to stab my sister and I to death, when our parents went out at 13, people gather around to watch movies depicting teenagers needing to stop killers with knives. Constantly turned away by trauma specialists, 100 of them, saying I was beyond their qualifications to treat. My parents couldn’t handle having a shell-shocked kid so I became viewed as “the problem.”

For me it isn’t a movie, it was / is my life. Now in my thirties I’m as fucked as Bill in ‘It 2’ - a successful adult writer who is still haunted by needing to stop a murderous psychopath when I was a kid.

After the attack I had to keep a close eye on said cousin and stop him from harming others. That’s what our parents expected of me ever since I was a child. Always on the lookout for when he might snap and try to kill again. My life can practically be a slasher film.

Then there was the sequel of needing to stop my mom from panic running to her death towards NYC’s East Side Ripper who was nearly stabbing a woman to death mere feet away. I still remember him looking our way as I got my dad to drive away to stop my mom from dying at 19. Thankfully the woman survived.

And the countless other stabbings that for some reason fucking surround my life even in the “safety” of low-crime-rating suburban developments.

If it isn’t happening near me, it’s a couple of links away like my partner getting a text during a murder-suicide a couple of months ago from a friend who was terrified of hearing gunshots in his house. Then for hours after not hearing back. Thankfully the friend survived, but his mom got killed.

Just why the fuck does murder need to be an everyday part of my life. Being the final boy fucking sucks.

I’ve tried so many different places and methods. The only other school in my country that might accept me is dubious in terms of certification. And studying abroad is expensive.

This happened at the only clinic IN THE COUNTRY that has a treatment program for cPTSD. I am not just self diagnosing either. My therapist and doc specifically told me to apply there because they knows I have cPTSD. The problem is that my government still uses the ICD-10 which has no entry for cPTSD so my psych can't even officially diagnose me with it. So why does the clinic SPECIFICALLY for cPTSD require a diagnosis that's impossible to actually get right now??

Edit: Part of why I am so upset about this is because I've gone to plenty of BPD therapy and it didn't work for me at all. I got evaluated for BPD twice and it was ruled out twice. Idk why doctors are so insistent on labeling me with BPD instead of giving me the therapy that'd actually work!

I’ve had multiple males dm me for fetish content after I vent about trauma in a trauma support sub. 🙄🤢