Strength

I'm going to use this post to recognize my own accomplishments and improvements. Something someone said to me made me take a look at the progress I've made and question whether it's been real or not because a lot of it has been based, at least secondarily, on the situation with my old therapist. I wasn't sure, for a moment, if I had been concentrating on the right things. However, looking at the things that I have changed have made me very sure that I know myself and I know some of my strengths now. I made a list of strengths and changes I've been making over the past two months.

1. Talking to my family about more of the trauma and having more conversations.
2. Practicing and using skills every time I need to.
3. Learning to sit with emotions and allowing them to pass.
4. Making connections in groups, participating and learning.
5. Learning to have some self-reliance and control over my own recovery.
6. Recognizing negative self-talk and challenging it.
7. Gaining determination to make my life better and more meaningful.
8. Realizing that I'm not the helpless victim in my own life and there can't be an infallible rescuer. 
9. Blogging more about my inner life and being more open about my feelings!

All of these things have made me feel like I've aged a few years over the past two months. All of this awareness just flew into sight. I don't have all of the insight that I could possibly have about myself; I probably don't have the majority, but I know enough to feel proud of myself and sure of myself that these are permanent changes. It's an odd feeling looking back at myself and it's hard to not blame myself for being so much worse off two months ago. It's one of the thoughts I have to constantly fight. I'm just so thankful that the fight is easier now.

My art for today is something that I drew while I was in the hospital two months ago to fight the self-blaming thoughts that I have.

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(Warning: graphic descriptions in the following paragraph.) It says, "It wasn't my fault: It was theirs." Most of the things I blame myself for are not my fault. I'm an imperfect person like everyone else and I make mistakes and that does not make me a bad person. As a child, it was never my fault that I was being abused. It was always the abusers' faults. They were disgusting disgusting people and, if there's a hell, I hope they rot in it after suffering a miserable life. I hope someone cuts off their genitals and puts them through a grinder. And then I hope someone rapes them everyday so that they know what it feels like to be so helpless. Sorry to be so gruesome, but that's what abusers deserve.