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Hi everyone,

I am curious if and how other people have brought up certain subjects with a new therapist. I've never experienced this before, but I'm having three conversations with a potential therapist before even starting, to see if it's a good fit.

The last appointment is coming up, and I want to mention sexual assault, incest, and covert incest. And shortly describe how those resulted in intimacy and general relationship issues. I've never said any of that out loud, and I don't think I would feel the need to, if my last therapist hadn't done everything she could to avoid the subject. She would essentially go bright red every time, and then find a way to quickly move away from the subject sex altogether. She once even got up and paced around the room.

I don't want that to happen again, and want to see how this therapist responds. But. I have no idea how to. I feel embarassed and ashamed, I've never been able to say it out loud – typing is very different for me. It's going to be incredibly difficult to say that to someone who's basically a stranger. So I was hoping some of you have experience with bringing this up.

And just in case anyone has any experience with this too – I guess I could make a different post somewhere else, but I can't really find a more appropriate place – please tell me if that's a better idea. I want to mention I'm bisexual, and that I have some trauma around that. Again, this has to do with my last therapist not being the most progressive person, and not wanting that to happen again. So I asked for a LGBT+ friendly therapist, and this is a huge assumption, but I get the sense that this therapist is a gay man. Unfortunately my trauma mainly comes from experiencing biphobia from the LGBT+ community. Specifically, cis gay men and lesbians. Which results in me being very nervous to bring this up with him. On the one hand, I think it's kind of ridiculous to think a gay man would judge a bisexual woman, but it simply is my experience that LGBT+ friendly does not always mean accepting of bisexuals. And whatever I rationally think, I know it would be very triggering to get even a slightly negative response. And if he's straight, I'm afraid he won't understand a word of what I'm saying. I just don't know how to prepare myself or find the words.

Any thoughts or advice, it's all welcome. 



(I LOVED this emoji when I was young and can not resist using it, even though this isn't a cheerful subject, I have to. I LOVE HER. )

I'm scared, angry, and sad. And currently tired of faking it. I want to be kind, optimistic - but it's not real.
I've been going to an art studio, an amazing place that helps people like me. People with a ''disability'' - I'm not terribly fond of that word. I had an amazing arrangement, my government payed for it, to my surprise, and it's been just... everything, these past few years. I don't have the money to pay for something like this myself. It doesn't even exist - I can go to a normal art class, but it's nothing like this.
And now they've cut my budget in half. So I can go one day a week, instead of two or three. I thought someone made a mistake, so I called - but nope. This is just the way it is in 2019.

I went from a completely dissociated, terrified, quiet person in a corner to someone who feels like she belongs. Yesterday I found out they put all of my artwork in the window. Because my art ''isn't supposed to hang in the back''. These people have made me feel loved, appreciated, valued, talented. And frankly: sane.

I just sold my first painting. Someone has commissioned a new one. It's not a lot of money, but it feels like more than I've ever made doing anything - because I'm getting paid for this thing that feels like therapy, like something I choose to do anyway.

This is the one thing I can always count on - it has lifted me out of depression and made me feel less lonely every time. There's nothing else like that in my life.

And now. I have to hear from some dude on the phone that this is just the way it is. And I can't find anything about it online. I haven't heard about this from other people there. I don't know if it's just me and my situation - because everyone else is still there, some 5 days a week. It makes me think that my CPTSD isn't big enough of an issue to them? I have this ''plan'' in front of me, someone wrote down why I need this, my history, everything - and maybe my issues just aren't enough for them.

It makes me feel invisible and left to wither away. I honestly don't know what I'm going to do, how I'm going to manage life without it. I'm sat here looking for other options, because I know I have to do something. I'm also not ready to work - especially if I don't have my usual art studio family to fall back on.

There are no answers, and I don't feel like saying ''it'll be fine'' - because I genuinely don't know right now. I have no clue where to go from here, and I'm angry and sad that this is being taken away from me without warning or explanation. Like I don't matter. Like it's not a big deal.

My ideal bed time: 4 a.m. It's been this way for as long as I can remember - when I worked, I used to sleep 3/4 hours max, and I'd sleep for another four when I came home. I'd try, and I'd lie there for hours. It's absolute torture, my heart's racing, I'm sweating, and all I can think is: I have to sleep. Because I want to work, I want to have a life, I want to be normal. And all that stress, of course, keeps me wide awake. When so much is dependent on me falling asleep asap, it's way too much pressure.

I know my father's violence/screaming/crying or whatever else he chose to do that night used to wake me up around 11 p.m. He'd go on for hours, and when morning came, he'd be exhausted and go to sleep. So I know it's probably connected.

But I also had one period where I was fine. I volunteered, and got to be creative 4 days a week. I don't enjoy mornings, I'd bike there and would feel cranky, and sure, I still had issues letting go of everything at night - but I did it. I fell asleep around 11, woke up at 7. I think having a purpose, doing something I love more than anything, with and for other people - that meant everything to me. I could put all of my energy into it, there'd be a finished product, and that was so fullfilling - it's the happiest I've ever been.

So whenever therapists make it all about my father, I hear them, and I too don't see how something like that could ever not leave its mark. But I don't think it's the whole story, and I don't think it's where I should look for answers. Not anymore, at least. I feel like I've dealt with it properly, like I can talk about it with ease, even. I feel that the thing that has left the scars that I'm dealing with now, is that I couldn't do what I loved, what I wanted to, what made me feel useful. Making things, being creative, is necesarry for me. It's the most fullfilling thing. I can't live without it, and I think I might not be able to sleep without it. So much is left unexpressed, and I feel like that's what's keeping me awake at night. All that energy that I'm surpressing and holding onto.

And it's weird, because it feels... like a luxury. But I'm starting to think that it isn't. Maybe this is it. Maybe instead of looking back and trying to fix the past, I need to commit to being the creative person I've always been. That's scary, and it feels like a silly, selfish thing to do and live for... But I also think we need everyone to do what they love the most. That that's when we're at our best. What a weird thing, that I've told myself I'm not allowed to do that, just because other people told me to stop, quit, give up. Just because I didn't get into an art school. Forcing myself to stay quiet and small... I think that may have everything to do with lying awake at night.

I just needed to get that off my chest. I'm so frustrated, I hate waking up late. Especially this time of year, when it gets dark around 4 p.m. It's so depressing. I want to go for a morning walk, be outside in the sun, not have to rush because stores are already closing. I hate that I have zero control over it, I'm so done with it. I didn't even know what I was going to write. Had quite a few realizations while typing this. Actually doing it - being creative, grabbing my camera, writing, painting - is absolutely terrifying to me. But maybe I'm at a point where I can start to tackle it, sleeping and being creative. One day at a time. Writing this being another step.

I hate that we have a word for it nowadays, apparently it's become that common(or maybe it always was). It's someone from a therapy group I went to. I talked to her after it ended, we emailed, but really we only saw each other outside of it twice. I recently ran into her and texted her asking to hang out - that was over a week ago. I have a feeling I'm never gonna hear from her again.

On the one hand, I'm not one to... get attached quickly, I guess. I keep my distance for a long time, to protect myself. I thought I felt indifferent, but today I realized I'm relieved. I think because friendships are hard for me anyway, and it's easier to be alone, but I had my doubts about her specifically, too. I'm also sad, and left wondering why. When people leave without explanation, I feel myself becoming very cold towards them. Because it's so cruel, to me. It makes me question my behaviour and worry about what I did wrong endlessly. My first boyfriend did this, after four years together, and there were a lot of things wrong with our relationship, but that was the one thing I couldn't ''get over''. He just announced it was over, and that was that. He wanted to remain friends, and I couldn't do it. For the life of me, I don't understand why people can't just be honest.

And no matter how hard it's been to end friendships, I've always given them a reason. I've always given them a chance to ask questions and explain themselves. I know I'm not perfect(believe me) but I guess this is just my specific deal breaker. This is the very least you can do. I don't understand how people can just move on without having closure. If you're going to cut someone out of your life, have the decency to tell them why. It's not fair to leave someone wondering about what went wrong, what they did wrong.

Was I rude, too blunt? Was I too self involved? Was I disinterested? Was I selfish? All of the worst things my inner critic tells me become louder. I have no idea, and now I'll never know. But the thing is: this is so hurtful, that I lose respect for the person ghosting me. I'm having all these contradictory feelings, but in the end, I don't want that kind of person in my life. I value honesty, kindness, courage - and ''ghosting'' is the opposite of all of that. To me.

I've spent so much of my time thinking about this one person and I just feel I need a way to move on. So this is my way of creating that closure by myself. I'm focusing my attention on the kind, honest friends I have. I'm focusing on being kind to myself. I'm focusing on the future.

I'm not sure where exactly to post this, I hope this is the right place? It's about perfectionism, shame, guilt, but it's also just a story about what I've been going through today.

I missed a therapy appointment today - it's a group to prepare us for group therapy. I missed the same one last week. When I don't sleep well – I fell asleep around 4 am when I had to get up at 8 – sometimes, I just can't get myself to get up. And I don't always know what happens. I talked to my abusive mother for the first time in months, on my birthday, this week. It sucked. I watched a horror series before bed. I haven't been sleeping well for days and have been tired. I think it's probably all contributed. I've also given myself a lot of time to rest and relax, so I feel disappointed and guilty that this still happened.

Not showing up or being late was something that I did a lot growing up. So it brings back a lot of anxiety, stress, bad memories/trauma. As an adult, I can't stand being late. Now I'm always early, because being late would make me feel so terrible about myself it'd be almost unbearable. I think not showing up does the same, but it's harder for me to prevent.

I remember going into these shame spirals all the time. A lot of it has to do with perfectionism, I think. If I don't do it perfectly, then why do it at all? And of course, it's never been perfect. Because the standard I set(and I think the one my mother set as well) was simply impossible. I would skip classes, because of nightmares and abuse at home, I wouldn't be there for entire days, entire weeks. If I managed to go for one day, it always felt so pointless. I'd try my hardest, but that one day I would just hear about the days I wasn't there, and feel like a complete outsider. I was so alone. I'd be called lazy, unmotivated. By teachers, friends. No one showed any concern. Just anger and disappointment. Then I'd come home, and there'd be chaos and abuse. My mother would hate me regardless of how well I did. No one showed that they cared about how it felt for me, how everything affected me. It was incredibly hard for me to see the point of going to school - and frankly, of trying at anything.

I know, rationally, that's not my reality now.

But it still feels like it. It feels inevitable. When I do go, I rarely know if I'm doing what's right for me – I just know I'm doing what's expected. I'm getting better at listening to my gut, but it's still not the same as a ''normal'' person. Sometimes I just have to accept that I don't know why I'm doing something. If I don't go, I get temporary relief. I don't even know if I should drag myself out of bed with 4 hours of sleep. Two hours of therapy is going to be way too intense for my brain in that state. I think it's okay to take care of yourself by saying: I can't. I mean: I know that rationally. It doesn't feel like it. But I don't even call. Because I'm just terrified of someone... yelling at me, being angry, telling me what a disappointment I am, or telling me not to come back. So I sleep and wake up and feel shame, and I start avoiding and hiding even more. I don't call, I don't send and email, because it feels like I * up and will be punished. The longer I wait, the less it feels fixable. And then I freeze. I feel guilty for doing anything else, I feel like I deserve to be punished. And that reminds me a lot of being younger. I just wouldn't move if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I felt like a piece of * who didn't deserve to live. Then my mother would come home and tell me the same.


I made a promise, or a decision, last week. That I was going to reach out. Even when it feels like I can kind of sort of handle things. I'm not going to let it fester, like it's some dark secret. Because I let it pile up until I have no other choice but to do something. So this shame and fear, as hard as it is, I need to talk/write about it. I need to make the choice to take care of myself. My brain is convinced the same things as back then will happen – that someone will tell me: you're right. You are lazy. You aren't trying. And I need to start believing that it's different now. That it's not the reaching out and trusting that will hurt me, but the isolating myself. I've turned into the one who's punishing me, and I need to stop.

I'm allowed to make mistakes and I'm allowed to grow. And yeah, sometimes it's really annoyingly basic stuff, because that's what child abuse does. I didn't get to make a mistake, I didn't get to ask for help or forgiveness. So I'm catching up, right now. By doing this,reaching out, by dragging myself off this couch and going for a run, by maybe sending an email saying ''hey I'm sorry I wasn't feeling well I should've called'', by allowing myself to make mistakes. And by being angry, I think, I can suddenly feel my fists clenching, because I'm angry at the people who let me drown and cared more about me meeting their impossible expectations than about my well being.

Hello everyone. I'm a woman in her late twenties who's surprised she's so nervous typing this! I'm just going to jump right in and write down some of my story.

I have a toxic/abusive family, most of whom I don't see anymore. My mother is the one who probably did the most damage. I honestly don't know how to describe her anymore. There was enmeshment, zero boundaries, all my life. She lied, manipulated and always played the victim. It took me a long time fully figure that out, to let go of her, at least as the mother I wanted to have. That's still a process. My father was physically abusive, pretty absent, but somehow also encouraging and loving when I met him again in my early twenties. He then suddenly passed away, basically because he couldn't take care of himself due to his mental health. They both had pretty severe mental health issues. They leaned on us, on my sister and I. My sister was always angry with me, had the same short temper my father had. I finally got out, moved away, was diagnosed with a bunch of things, among them CPTSD, got a therapist and started recovery(obviously the story is more complicated and messy than that, but that would take me hours).

I've had a lot of toxic friends as well, and one by one I slowly removed them from my life. I've been alone for a loooong time. Years. I chose those friends because I knew they weren't really there for me. So I never had to be vulnerable or show my true self. I never had a friend I could fully be myself with, I was always hiding different parts.

I'm isolated. I don't trust anyone anymore, and I can't remember the last time I did trust someone. That's why I'm here, mostly. I'm in a parentification therapy group, and even though I've only been twice, it's a huge relief to talk to people who have similar stories. It feels literally impossible to talk about any of it sometimes, but I know I want to. I have a lot of shame surrounding so many areas of myself, my life. I want to let go of that. The more I get distance from my family, the more I realize they're really never going to ruin my life again, the more I feel ready to connect to others.

There was a bit of a shift, today. I don't remember feeling this lonely, ever. I was going somewhere, and I knew that I would be playing a part there. That I would pretend everything was fine, as I always do. I help everyone, I avoid talking about personal things, I feel like a robot. And suddenly, I broke down and cried non stop for about an hour - I realized I had no energy to pretend to be someone else anymore. This coping mechanism of hiding, dissociating, avoiding and pretending is feeding my depression. And that depression, being down in that dark hopeless place, I think it finally scares me more than being my true, vulnerable self. I'd rather take a chance, even if I get hurt. I'd rather take the risk and share these ''secrets''. Frankly: I'd rather live - because this is no life.

SO. Because I loved being on a forum once upon a time, about a decade ago, and found it way easier to connect to people there than in my high school, I figured: why not start here. Why not take baby steps. And I can't believe how scary this is, even though I'm anonymous. I hope this is the beginning of something.