Ah, trauma therapy. It’s warm and cozy in here. Am I doing this wrong? I’m not crying inside of therapy, only outside and that doesn’t even feel gross? There is no “one way of normal” here in trauma therapy I’m told, so I’m ok? Ok. My most traumatic events have taken root somewhere in me and sprouted and grown into a titanium and chewed-gum skeleton to prop me up it seems… but I have that
I want to respond to every post about this kind of shit that you write, and I can never find good words (plus I'm a big feckin' scaredy cat), but I want to try this time. So here are a bunch of dorky jumbled thoughts: Your posts hurt my heart, in a good way. Like a knife that makes me happy to know it, and to know it can't actually hurt? They make me want to very softly touch your wrist with just a few fingers to let you experience a tiny extra bit of human connection, to say "I hear you, like god damn!" Your words also make *me* feel loved, somehow, and also weepy--on days I can manage it. You help me so much just by being your own honest unflinching kindhearted angry shiny curse-y brilliant generous awe-inspiring self.
I am not as strong as you (...but I am strong. I am still here, aren't I? That's a giant holy cow big deal). Your journey and your willingness to just bare it all here in public are precious to me. It's a vicarious thing, I guess. I know for a fact you are helping a ton of other humans who have been completely ingested by their trauma. Like me. God, writing even that little smidge makes my heart hammer on my collarbones and choke up my vocal chords. It's ridiculous.
I want to come out on the other side, too.
God bless your crooked little heart. I appreciate you so much. You are awesome, and you are gonna kick the shit out of that traumatic BS. Like god damn! ❤️
This work is so fucking hard and so fucking important. It’s only in recent years I have begun to understand how trauma lives physically in us. My body will remember dates and times even if my brain doesn’t right away. What I have learned is light and sound saying shit out loud over and over erodes its grip. I am bored with my own shit too, but you have to keep chipping away. You are not alone. We love you. Keep going.
Oh man I feel you with the trauma exposure therapy! One of the hardest things I’ve ever done right up there with surviving the abuse in the first place. Don’t let the monsters have that little girl. She that is you are amazing and your music helps me love life again when I’ve wanted nothing to do with it off and on most of my life. That is not hyperbole!
I have discussed this type of therapy with my sister and a dear friend. We vaguely murmur that we aren't up for the energy and recall that it would take. I'm 57, sister is 55, friend is 30. Your description of your precious blood flow and healing of every nook and cranny. That sounds nice. ghaaaaaaaaaaaa struggle and bury. Thank you for your words. Godspeed.
Well, i don't think your public conversations about past trauma bear anything to a pee-in-the-pool analogy. The people who support you on substack here (well, at least me)....wish to help you transition from a not-many-gigs, poor pandemic economic situation and also want to hear your thoughts, whatever they might be, uncomfortable of comfortable, on any subject , personal or global. So it's not like when we substackees might go to a public pool expecting a perfect-pH, chlorinated experience, you know, like in the ads for some as-many-free-towels-as-you-like Carribbean spa resort or whathaveyou.
Your post is truly heartbreaking and as a middle-aged father of three daughters, reading it brings out the fierce primal protector in me that wants to kill every man that victimizes women needlessly. You are astonishingly talented, intelligent, strong. Just remember to breathe, deeply(:
Oh Neko, my heart goes out to you at every age you had to endure, including now. We love you and I can't speak for everyone but I think you have some fellow survivors rooting for you. You can't make us flinch or run away. What kids have to live though is monstrous and it's a wonder we're still here. You are here and you are loved and you are not alone. This is hard but necessary work and I'm beaming all the strength I can to you.
I'm from the same year and even started in the same state (VA). I remember the shitty attitudes and casual violence that were supposed to pass for values. I just want to wish you healing and remind you being in the darkness isn't the same as being of the darkness. Your light will get you through -- it's just sometimes the light isn't what or where you expected.
i like when people can talk about heavy things. i fell behind my classmates socially in 6th grade. felt "out" ever since. the in crowd is me in isolation, self- imposed, not trusting & afraid. socially. alcoholic father, mostly heard what's wrong with everything, and negativity. mother, brother too, all my errors "get noticed". ill be 60 on 7-16, moved back in w/ Mom. fell back in addiction hole. now trying 8 step overcome addiction, w/ some Buddhism teaching. tried MA, AA, checking myself in, etc. day 1 sober( from Weed) this time. Hurting, can i dream anymore? wtf? the human problem. step 1 acknowledge that life involves suffering, etc. i think you'll probably do better than me. wait, I can be competitive. im gonna get healed "faster" than Case, & kick ass! let's go! it's on. xo
I care what happened to that little girl and all the times she fought and tried so hard to heal. I care for the women with trauma in her bones. I really do care.
I want to respond to every post about this kind of shit that you write, and I can never find good words (plus I'm a big feckin' scaredy cat), but I want to try this time. So here are a bunch of dorky jumbled thoughts: Your posts hurt my heart, in a good way. Like a knife that makes me happy to know it, and to know it can't actually hurt? They make me want to very softly touch your wrist with just a few fingers to let you experience a tiny extra bit of human connection, to say "I hear you, like god damn!" Your words also make *me* feel loved, somehow, and also weepy--on days I can manage it. You help me so much just by being your own honest unflinching kindhearted angry shiny curse-y brilliant generous awe-inspiring self.
I am not as strong as you (...but I am strong. I am still here, aren't I? That's a giant holy cow big deal). Your journey and your willingness to just bare it all here in public are precious to me. It's a vicarious thing, I guess. I know for a fact you are helping a ton of other humans who have been completely ingested by their trauma. Like me. God, writing even that little smidge makes my heart hammer on my collarbones and choke up my vocal chords. It's ridiculous.
I want to come out on the other side, too.
God bless your crooked little heart. I appreciate you so much. You are awesome, and you are gonna kick the shit out of that traumatic BS. Like god damn! ❤️
This work is so fucking hard and so fucking important. It’s only in recent years I have begun to understand how trauma lives physically in us. My body will remember dates and times even if my brain doesn’t right away. What I have learned is light and sound saying shit out loud over and over erodes its grip. I am bored with my own shit too, but you have to keep chipping away. You are not alone. We love you. Keep going.
"because who cares what happened to little girls, right?".....oooooofffff........
Oh man I feel you with the trauma exposure therapy! One of the hardest things I’ve ever done right up there with surviving the abuse in the first place. Don’t let the monsters have that little girl. She that is you are amazing and your music helps me love life again when I’ve wanted nothing to do with it off and on most of my life. That is not hyperbole!
I have discussed this type of therapy with my sister and a dear friend. We vaguely murmur that we aren't up for the energy and recall that it would take. I'm 57, sister is 55, friend is 30. Your description of your precious blood flow and healing of every nook and cranny. That sounds nice. ghaaaaaaaaaaaa struggle and bury. Thank you for your words. Godspeed.
Well, i don't think your public conversations about past trauma bear anything to a pee-in-the-pool analogy. The people who support you on substack here (well, at least me)....wish to help you transition from a not-many-gigs, poor pandemic economic situation and also want to hear your thoughts, whatever they might be, uncomfortable of comfortable, on any subject , personal or global. So it's not like when we substackees might go to a public pool expecting a perfect-pH, chlorinated experience, you know, like in the ads for some as-many-free-towels-as-you-like Carribbean spa resort or whathaveyou.
Your post is truly heartbreaking and as a middle-aged father of three daughters, reading it brings out the fierce primal protector in me that wants to kill every man that victimizes women needlessly. You are astonishingly talented, intelligent, strong. Just remember to breathe, deeply(:
Oh Neko, my heart goes out to you at every age you had to endure, including now. We love you and I can't speak for everyone but I think you have some fellow survivors rooting for you. You can't make us flinch or run away. What kids have to live though is monstrous and it's a wonder we're still here. You are here and you are loved and you are not alone. This is hard but necessary work and I'm beaming all the strength I can to you.
Your words have silenced me. Hitting synapses like pounding on piano keys.
sigh.
with you.
Moving words. Thanks Neko.
some good circuitry - i just started “what my bones know” - a strong prologue has carried me to the start - high hopes for the entirety.
Ditto recommend "What My Bones Know," along with "Childhood Disrupted" and "The Body Keeps the Score" for this kind of self-work
<3
What women, girls, and children have to endure sometimes just kills me. I'm sending an empathetic hug your way.
I'm from the same year and even started in the same state (VA). I remember the shitty attitudes and casual violence that were supposed to pass for values. I just want to wish you healing and remind you being in the darkness isn't the same as being of the darkness. Your light will get you through -- it's just sometimes the light isn't what or where you expected.
That's all. Love to you.
i like when people can talk about heavy things. i fell behind my classmates socially in 6th grade. felt "out" ever since. the in crowd is me in isolation, self- imposed, not trusting & afraid. socially. alcoholic father, mostly heard what's wrong with everything, and negativity. mother, brother too, all my errors "get noticed". ill be 60 on 7-16, moved back in w/ Mom. fell back in addiction hole. now trying 8 step overcome addiction, w/ some Buddhism teaching. tried MA, AA, checking myself in, etc. day 1 sober( from Weed) this time. Hurting, can i dream anymore? wtf? the human problem. step 1 acknowledge that life involves suffering, etc. i think you'll probably do better than me. wait, I can be competitive. im gonna get healed "faster" than Case, & kick ass! let's go! it's on. xo
I care what happened to that little girl and all the times she fought and tried so hard to heal. I care for the women with trauma in her bones. I really do care.