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Severe depression

I'm not okay and I don't know how to be. Quick back story. In one months time I had to send my son to a 30 day assessment center. I lost my job, my roommate moved out and I think he groomed my 18 year old step son, the day after he moved out so did my step son. He went to live with his mom who can't properly take care of him and won't protect him. For context he has mild CP but he still needs care from specialists. The moving stuff happened the day my son came home and 2 days after he came home excited to spend time with his brother who won't talk to him or see him. Oh and school started the day after my step son moved out. Well my step son as usual decided to emotionaly abuse me and blame me and so did the roommate (was a friend for 10years) it was so bad I was going to attemp something but didn't I have my 13 and 2 year old but needed to dull the pain after being being bullied and stuff by the 18 year old so I self harmed that night. Now I cant get out of this whole. My sever anxiety and depression have been a problem for year and working is extremely hard. The last job I had was me caring for a friends dad for 5 years. Getting a job is impossible because of it and my family needs me we have no money and I'm scared. #Depression

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Depression and Anxiety

I haven't had symptoms in over eight years. My rental acquired new ownership, rent was raised almost doubled. I had to move with two months notice. My dog got sick after my moveand six months he died. I had adopted my dog, after my third hospitalization and suicide attempt. They had pet therapy in the hospital and I perked up when the dogs came to visit. I wasn't alone and he forced me to get out of the house and walk him. He kept me company at home and he saved me. I was lucky to have him. A few months after my dog died, my job was outsourced. I am thankful to be employed with insurance but working in a call center is so stressful. The verbal abuse from customers and micromanagement that comes with this type of work is so damaging to my mental health. I have looked for other employment but the job market is rough right now. I am experiencing anxiety, tears in my eyes and almost crying while working. Depression has started creeping in and I can feel myself going to that dark place again. I have an appointment scheduled this week for new meds. I found a local nami group and plan on attending a meeting on Monday. That's my story and I'm scared.
#BipolarDisorder

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The Inner Child and the Circles we run By BigmommaJ

Life has a way of moving in circles. No matter how far we think we’ve come, sometimes we find ourselves right back where we started — the same pain, the same mistakes, the same emptiness. It can feel exhausting, like we’re trapped in a cycle that will never end.

But often, what we’re really circling around is our inner child.

The inner child is that hidden part of us that remembers everything — the joy, the innocence, but also the wounds we never fully healed. It carries the weight of neglect, abandonment, rejection, or abuse. And until we turn inward and tend to that child, we find ourselves going in circles, repeating patterns without understanding why.

Maybe you’ve noticed it in relationships. You keep attracting the same kind of love, even if it hurts. Or maybe it shows up in addiction, where you go back to the same coping mechanism that promised escape but delivered only deeper pain. Sometimes, it’s in the way we treat ourselves — constantly criticizing, sabotaging, or hiding behind masks.

These circles are not random. They are calls for healing.

Our inner child keeps bringing us back to these familiar places, not to punish us, but to remind us of what still needs our attention. Each cycle is another chance to stop, to notice, and to finally break free. Healing doesn’t happen in a straight line; it spirals. Every time we come back to a painful pattern, we have the opportunity to face it with more wisdom, more awareness, and more compassion than before.

The truth is, we can’t shame our inner child into silence. We can’t numb it away forever. What it needs is what we needed back then — safety, love, patience, and someone to listen to us. And often, we are the ones who must finally become that safe person for ourselves.

So the next time you feel yourself stuck in a circle, ask:

What is my inner child trying to tell me?

What wound is asking to be healed?

How can I show up for myself differently this time?

Circles don’t always mean we’re failing. Sometimes they mean we’re still learning. And healing, even when it feels repetitive, is progress.

Step by step, round by round, we move closer to wholeness.

Because when we finally sit with that inner child, the circles that once trapped us can become circles of safety, circles of healing, circles of love.

Bigmommaj
#innerchild #MentalHealth

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Beneath the Bramble Years

(Written after decades away from church, this poem reflects a slow, cautious return to faith after spiritual abuse within my own family and ministry home. Inspired by Luke 15, the parable of the lost sheep.)

I was the lamb

that learned to flinch at the word Father.

The pasture that should have been shelter

became a place of warning,

his sermons like stones

that split my hooves.

So I walked away,

through years of underbrush and silence,

where prayer was only the sound

of my own breath in the dark.

I thought the Shepherd’s voice

was just another trap.

But across the wind,

a call different from his,

low, patient,

without demand.

Not a threat.

Not a leash.

A presence that waits.

Today I sit on a plain wooden pew.

No one presses me to kneel.

Hymns drift like morning fog,

and for the first time in decades

I do not run.

The Shepherd does not drag me home;

He simply stands where I can see Him,

and I take a single step.

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When the Victim Looks Like the Villain: A Survivor’s Story of Love, Loss, and Manipulation

I never imagined that opening my heart could make me a target. My story begins like many relationships: moments of kindness, shared experiences, and the thrill of connecting with someone new. But what I thought was love slowly became complicated, blurred by manipulation, miscommunication, and the intrusion of others into my life.
I write this not just for survivors, but for friends, families, and anyone trying to understand emotional abuse—especially when the survivor is painted as the villain.

Falling in Love and Trust:
I met Cody at Walmart while shopping for a holiday party. He was kind-hearted, offering to drop me off, but I declined because my place was out of the way. Later, we went rock climbing with a friend and ran errands together. When it started raining, he lent me his jacket. These small gestures felt meaningful and thoughtful.

From the start, Cody shared his past experiences with abuse and encouraged open conversations about boundaries. I shared my own struggles: depression, being autistic, past self-harm, and past experiences of being accused of abuse for expressing vulnerability. Cody reassured me that asking for help wasn’t wrong and promised he would communicate with me, especially regarding my fear of abandonment.
He remembered little details—favorite snacks, drinks, even Monster energy flavors—and would surprise me. At first, it didn’t feel controlling. It felt like care and love.

Blurred Boundaries and Family Dynamics:
Subtle imbalances appeared early. Cody once said he’d skip spending time with his dad to make me happy, framing himself as “always wrong” and me as “always right.”
His family added tension. When he invited me to his ice rink, his parents assumed I pressured him to let me come, even though he had asked me. I wanted to respect boundaries but also show support. Other situations blurred boundaries further: he invited me behind the counter at Starbucks, which felt like bonding, but a co-worker reported it, forcing Cody to leave the job.
Later, he considered becoming a flight attendant. I shared concerns about logistics and safety, and he assured me it was his decision. Months later, he accused me of giving him an ultimatum—rewriting history entirely.

Loss, Grief, and Hypocrisy:
In June, my father passed away. I witnessed the medical examiner removing his body and collected his belongings from his apartment. Cody’s father entered without asking—violating boundaries during one of the most painful moments of my life.
Yet when Cody’s cat passed away, I was excluded from the grieving process, framed as “not family.” It felt hypocritical: my grief was dismissed while theirs was protected. I constantly questioned Cody’s intentions. Was he acting on his own desires, or letting family dictate our boundaries? I never fully knew.

Manipulation, Ghosting, and Accusations:
Throughout our relationship, I repeatedly asked Cody if I needed to change, if he was happy, or if he wanted to break up. He always reassured me.
Then, after ghosting me, he told friends I was “mentally unstable, emotionally abusive, and manipulative.” He shared my struggles with a 14-year-old, forcing me into uncomfortable conversations, and later told friends he had been emotionally “checked out” months before—while initiating intimacy and calling me his wife.
I was blindsided. I had no way to reconcile his words with the closeness we shared.

The Birthday Hotel and Emotional Betrayal
I treated Cody to a hotel stay for my birthday on July 31st and bought gift cards for his September birthday. We were intimate and shared laughs—but then I learned, through a mutual friend, that Cody had emotionally checked out 2–3 months prior.
That meant all the gestures, intimacy, and affection might not have been real—or worse, that I had been taken advantage of emotionally and physically. This revelation left me questioning everything: the moments I cherished, the vulnerability I showed, the love I thought was mutual.

Reactive Abuse: Survivors in Survival Mode
After being blocked and cut off, I vented in a group chat of mutual friends and messaged some co-workers. I said things I regret, questioning his fairness and whether he had projected accusations onto others.
These reactions were messy—but they were human. When someone manipulates, gaslights, and isolates you, lashing out is natural. This is “reactive abuse”: when survivors react to manipulation. Survivors may look like villains, but that doesn’t erase the abuse that caused it.

The Aftermath:
Discovering Cody’s emotional detachment during our intimate months left me questioning the authenticity of our connection. Combined with ghosting, false accusations, and blurred boundaries, I felt powerless and unfairly vilified.
Manipulation thrives on confusion. Survivors may act out, vent, or lash out—but those moments do not erase the abuse they endured. Friends and families must understand that imperfect reactions do not equal guilt. They are often signs of trauma and survival.

I share this story not for sympathy, but for awareness. Being a survivor is complicated, especially when the world sees you as the villain. I hope that by sharing my experience, others will recognize manipulation, understand reactive abuse, and support survivors in compassionate, nonjudgmental ways.

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When the Victim Looks Like the Villain: A Survivor’s Story of Love, Loss, and Manipulation

I never imagined that opening my heart could make me a target. My story begins like many relationships: moments of kindness, shared experiences, and the thrill of connecting with someone new. But what I thought was love slowly became complicated, blurred by manipulation, miscommunication, and the intrusion of others into my life.
I write this not just for survivors, but for friends, families, and anyone trying to understand emotional abuse—especially when the survivor is painted as the villain.

Falling in Love and Trust:
I met Cody at Walmart while shopping for a holiday party. He was kind-hearted, offering to drop me off, but I declined because my place was out of the way. Later, we went rock climbing with a friend and ran errands together. When it started raining, he lent me his jacket. These small gestures felt meaningful and thoughtful.

From the start, Cody shared his past experiences with abuse and encouraged open conversations about boundaries. I shared my own struggles: depression, being autistic, past self-harm, and past experiences of being accused of abuse for expressing vulnerability. Cody reassured me that asking for help wasn’t wrong and promised he would communicate with me, especially regarding my fear of abandonment.
He remembered little details—favorite snacks, drinks, even Monster energy flavors—and would surprise me. At first, it didn’t feel controlling. It felt like care and love.

Blurred Boundaries and Family Dynamics:
Subtle imbalances appeared early. Cody once said he’d skip spending time with his dad to make me happy, framing himself as “always wrong” and me as “always right.”
His family added tension. When he invited me to his ice rink, his parents assumed I pressured him to let me come, even though he had asked me. I wanted to respect boundaries but also show support. Other situations blurred boundaries further: he invited me behind the counter at Starbucks, which felt like bonding, but a co-worker reported it, forcing Cody to leave the job.
Later, he considered becoming a flight attendant. I shared concerns about logistics and safety, and he assured me it was his decision. Months later, he accused me of giving him an ultimatum—rewriting history entirely.

Loss, Grief, and Hypocrisy:
In June, my father passed away. I witnessed the medical examiner removing his body and collected his belongings from his apartment. Cody’s father entered without asking—violating boundaries during one of the most painful moments of my life.
Yet when Cody’s cat passed away, I was excluded from the grieving process, framed as “not family.” It felt hypocritical: my grief was dismissed while theirs was protected. I constantly questioned Cody’s intentions. Was he acting on his own desires, or letting family dictate our boundaries? I never fully knew.

Manipulation, Ghosting, and Accusations:
Throughout our relationship, I repeatedly asked Cody if I needed to change, if he was happy, or if he wanted to break up. He always reassured me.
Then, after ghosting me, he told friends I was “mentally unstable, emotionally abusive, and manipulative.” He shared my struggles with a 14-year-old, forcing me into uncomfortable conversations, and later told friends he had been emotionally “checked out” months before—while initiating intimacy and calling me his wife.
I was blindsided. I had no way to reconcile his words with the closeness we shared.

The Birthday Hotel and Emotional Betrayal:
I treated Cody to a hotel stay for my birthday on July 31st and bought gift cards for his September birthday. We were intimate and shared laughs—but then I learned, through a mutual friend, that Cody had emotionally checked out 2–3 months prior.
That meant all the gestures, intimacy, and affection might not have been real—or worse, that I had been taken advantage of emotionally and physically. This revelation left me questioning everything: the moments I cherished, the vulnerability I showed, the love I thought was mutual.

Reactive Abuse: Survivors in Survival Mode
After being blocked and cut off, I vented in a group chat of mutual friends and messaged some co-workers. I said things I regret, questioning his fairness and whether he had projected accusations onto others.
These reactions were messy—but they were human. When someone manipulates, gaslights, and isolates you, lashing out is natural. This is “reactive abuse”: when survivors react to manipulation. Survivors may look like villains, but that doesn’t erase the abuse that caused it.

The Aftermath:
Discovering Cody’s emotional detachment during our intimate months left me questioning the authenticity of our connection. Combined with ghosting, false accusations, and blurred boundaries, I felt powerless and unfairly vilified.
Manipulation thrives on confusion. Survivors may act out, vent, or lash out—but those moments do not erase the abuse they endured. Friends and families must understand that imperfect reactions do not equal guilt. They are often signs of trauma and survival.

I share this story not for sympathy, but for awareness. Being a survivor is complicated, especially when the world sees you as the villain. I hope that by sharing my experience, others will recognize manipulation, understand reactive abuse, and support survivors in compassionate, nonjudgmental ways.

Post

When the Victim Looks Like the Villain: A Survivor’s Story of Love, Loss, and Manipulation

I never imagined that opening my heart could make me a target. My story begins like many relationships: moments of kindness, shared experiences, and the thrill of connecting with someone new. But what I thought was love slowly became complicated, blurred by manipulation, miscommunication, and the intrusion of others into my life.
I write this not just for survivors, but for friends, families, and anyone trying to understand emotional abuse—especially when the survivor is painted as the villain.

Falling in Love and Trust:
I met Cody at Walmart while shopping for a holiday party. He was kind-hearted, offering to drop me off, but I declined because my place was out of the way. Later, we went rock climbing with a friend and ran errands together. When it started raining, he lent me his jacket. These small gestures felt meaningful and thoughtful.
From the start, Cody shared his past experiences with abuse and encouraged open conversations about boundaries. I shared my own struggles: depression, being autistic, past self-harm, and past experiences of being accused of abuse for expressing vulnerability. Cody reassured me that asking for help wasn’t wrong and promised he would communicate with me, especially regarding my fear of abandonment.
He remembered little details—favorite snacks, drinks, even Monster energy flavors—and would surprise me. At first, it didn’t feel controlling. It felt like care and love.

Blurred Boundaries and Family Dynamics:
Subtle imbalances appeared early. Cody once said he’d skip spending time with his dad to make me happy, framing himself as “always wrong” and me as “always right.”
His family added tension. When he invited me to his ice rink, his parents assumed I pressured him to let me come, even though he had asked me. I wanted to respect boundaries but also show support. Other situations blurred boundaries further: he invited me behind the counter at Starbucks, which felt like bonding, but a co-worker reported it, forcing Cody to leave the job.
Later, he considered becoming a flight attendant. I shared concerns about logistics and safety, and he assured me it was his decision. Months later, he accused me of giving him an ultimatum—rewriting history entirely.

Loss, Grief, and Hypocrisy:
In June, my father passed away. I witnessed the medical examiner removing his body and collected his belongings from his apartment. Cody’s father entered without asking—violating boundaries during one of the most painful moments of my life.
Yet when Cody’s cat passed away, I was excluded from the grieving process, framed as “not family.” It felt hypocritical: my grief was dismissed while theirs was protected. I constantly questioned Cody’s intentions. Was he acting on his own desires, or letting family dictate our boundaries? I never fully knew.

Manipulation, Ghosting, and Accusations:
Throughout our relationship, I repeatedly asked Cody if I needed to change, if he was happy, or if he wanted to break up. He always reassured me.
Then, after ghosting me, he told friends I was “mentally unstable, emotionally abusive, and manipulative.” He shared my struggles with a 14-year-old, forcing me into uncomfortable conversations, and later told friends he had been emotionally “checked out” months before—while initiating intimacy and calling me his wife.
I was blindsided. I had no way to reconcile his words with the closeness we shared.

The Birthday Hotel and Emotional Betrayal:
I treated Cody to a hotel stay for my birthday on July 31st and bought gift cards for his September birthday. We were intimate and shared laughs—but then I learned, through a mutual friend, that Cody had emotionally checked out 2–3 months prior.
That meant all the gestures, intimacy, and affection might not have been real—or worse, that I had been taken advantage of emotionally and physically. This revelation left me questioning everything: the moments I cherished, the vulnerability I showed, the love I thought was mutual.

Reactive Abuse: Survivors in Survival Mode
After being blocked and cut off, I vented in a group chat of mutual friends and messaged some co-workers. I said things I regret, questioning his fairness and whether he had projected accusations onto others.
These reactions were messy—but they were human. When someone manipulates, gaslights, and isolates you, lashing out is natural. This is “reactive abuse”: when survivors react to manipulation. Survivors may look like villains, but that doesn’t erase the abuse that caused it.

The Aftermath:
Discovering Cody’s emotional detachment during our intimate months left me questioning the authenticity of our connection. Combined with ghosting, false accusations, and blurred boundaries, I felt powerless and unfairly vilified.
Manipulation thrives on confusion. Survivors may act out, vent, or lash out—but those moments do not erase the abuse they endured. Friends and families must understand that imperfect reactions do not equal guilt. They are often signs of trauma and survival.

I share this story not for sympathy, but for awareness. Being a survivor is complicated, especially when the world sees you as the villain. I hope that by sharing my experience, others will recognize manipulation, understand reactive abuse, and support survivors in compassionate, nonjudgmental ways.

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Deranged

When you're talkin' to everyone

And they look through you

As if you aren't there

The shame burns, feeling like a fool

You should have known

That this place is a loaded gun

Blasting your issues into your brain

You know that you are better off shunned

Ancient wounds have me old before my time

But I'm too young to harden my heart

Young at heart as I turn to stone

Must keep my mind from flying apart

I don't know what you want from me

Or why you attack my thoughts and dreams

I stand before you all, my throat bared

This place compels me to share everything

Because my mind is bleeding

I wish I could keep it inside

Wish that no one was ever annoyed

By the words that wash an endless infection

From the hopes of a long gone little boy

Still talkin' to everyone

And I'm an echo or a ghost

I know what you want from me

Order to my thoughts and dreams

To stand before you all, my throat scarred

From abuse enforcing conformity

But sunshine doesn't bleed from me

I think of all the reasons

That I do not belong

Why do I stand here, neck deep in my own wounds?

What curse lies upon this place?

Maybe it had the scent of a safe glade

Where I could shed my skin.

Beneath my hide the monster hid

The scent was threatening, carnage in the air

The trap sprung as I spewed words unsafe, @everyone beware

The mods surrounded me with sharpened words

"This place is safe for us, not you, you who bears this curse."

I failed to fit

Too many times to ever return

Every try sees another bridge burn

I fled in the tatters of my skin

Bearing the weight of a grievous sin

I made others feel uncomfortable

While their attacks on me the mods ignored

The double standard a punishment I deserve

The wounded cannot be welcomed anywhere

When the lights are strange in haunted eyes

And the blood stains pages upon pages until we know why

I wander, on and on

Searching for a place beyond

The grind

The pitiless grind

Of people

I knew that I would not belong

Was it foolish to even try?

All I've ever known is rejection

As my hopes have slowly died.

Based on "Estranged," by Guns 'n' Roses. It describes my experiences at a Discord server.

#Depression #Suicide #Trauma #PTSD #MentalHealth #Disability #MightyPoets

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