Trigger warning: Abuse, bdsm, bloodplay, and suicide.
Most Goths I have known have a history with abuse, parents who weren’t there for them emotionally, this easily evolves into teenager years struggeling with mental health and exhausting relationships with others. If you would come into a relationship as a goth it was normally expected, especially in the 90s to try new experienced stuff and if you didn’t want to do any new sexually experiences, they would say; ew! you’re a vanilla, so basic. For example pinewheels, you would get that onto your back and it would feel like you are getting sliced opend. Blood play, gagging, tying up and all of these things. People will read this and think why would you ever let yourself getted tied up in the first place, get hit and all these kind of stuff. It was very normal in those days, and in these days as being a goth. I’m not talking about people being in their 20′s or 30′s spicing things up and trying new experiments. I’m talking about teenagers, having their first experience in a romantic relationship. Being expected to be heavily tied up and being into bdsm, since we mostly get seen as a sexual object.
Speaking of my own experiences with my partners, they would hit me and torture me at school. Saying I looked like a piece of shit, wearing too much eyeliner but still think I was attractive because black looks so sexy on me. Tear me down by saying I have low grades, caused by the fact of untreated and undiagnosed autism. It wasn’t acutally weird at all for me, it was actually a big brag for myself getting tortured by others and LOVING it. People can be sexually abused and be attracted to it, they can also LOVE it in the moment.
There is a lot of mental illness in the goth scene. We look like outsiders and people who feel like outsiders. If we would fit in the normal world, we would actually dress normal. Why would you suddenly start dressing like goth and turning yourself into an outsider if you would fit the normal world. You start dressing goth, and being into goth because you are already an outsider. It’s because there is something different about you, mostly linked with mental health issues. People with mental health issues do not necessarily make for abusive relationships, but I would say most goth(s) (femmes) I know have been in an abusive relationship. Mentall illness often makes you the perfect victim.
I don’t want to name any particular mental illnesses, but one of the symptoms is being needy. Needing a lot of love, a lot of ressurance, a lot of attention. When you get the love, ressurance and attention it will feel drug-like fix. If you have never ever been in an abusive relationship, it is incredibly hard to understand the drug-like feelings you experience while being in a relationship like that. What it is getting them so hooked is the beginning, it is all going so fast and it will end all so fast. Feeling it must go this fast because this is your ‘soulmate’, thinking it is okay that it is having sonic speed in relationship because that is your destiny, with other terms, the destiny of you and your partners destiny with this relationship. Bad damaging relationships are usually fast, dangerous and full of ‘love’. It will have this tremendously switch out of nowhere and it turns out to be dangerous and harmful for your mental health. Your partner saying stuff, that they will kill themselves if you leave them. That is an abusive tactic. Thinking you need to look after them because they are being the ‘victim’, not doing something harmful to them otherwise they are going to die! It’s an abusive tactic to keep you there, they are quite a lot of more tactics unstable people use.
This includes for males and females, because females can be abusers too, males can be abused too. Whatever your age is and you are getting into dating, please teach yourself about abusive relationships and the tactics used.
(You can visit my instagram page @jungleflowerenergy to view the closed captioned version of this poem)
TOXIC MASCULINITY - Please repost!
I was NOT expecting this to happen. Please tag someone who would appreciate this I’d written Firefly, my first poem, only because someone had asked me to. I didn’t consider myself a poet and wrote nothing again until a year later (2013) when @jeffperera invited me to perform something for a conference he created around ending toxic masculinity. I wrote this piece for it and this was the first time I performed it. I was battling stage fright the entire time. Waiting for my turn to perform, I was shaking. My friends gathered lovingly around me and prayed. Along with the stage fright I was also terrified that I would forget my words which is why you’ll see me clutching my notebook for dear life. You’ll also later see me shaking my head in disbelief because this outcome was the last thing I was expecting. My fear of public speaking dissipated after this. During a phase in my life where I spent a lot of energy dodging cameras, to have this major turning point caught on film (by Paul) was such a blessing. Grateful to see intelligent souls like @patrickcwalters@seedandcerassee@letssavematthew@rene_riiise@joanneswritingsand@mstoddart68 going off in the audience. They say fear is the opposite of love, and it seems like the more fears I face, the more I find myself surrounded by a loving community. I had major stage fright and I never claimed the title ‘poet’, but here I stand as living proof that our throat chakras are strengthened when we speak our truth. Please share Nov 16 in Toronto. Link in bio #jungleflowerdragonheart
Stage fright was the most important fear I’ve ever faced, and my greatest lifelong fear. As a child I was constantly pushed onto stages to perform at talent shows and other events despite the overwhelming anxiety I would experience, so when I gained autonomy as an adult I stayed as far away from stages as possible. I chose work like photography and being an interviewer that kept me behind the scenes and out of the spotlight. Standing in front of people to speak or perform was the last thing I desired for myself. I probably would have stayed in that comfort zone my entire life if my love for this cause and humanity didn’t give me the drive I needed to use my voice. Ironically, I would now consider public speaking and performing to be what I do best! Overcoming this fear has unexpectedly opened up a whole new world for me, connecting me with gifts I didn’t know I had and sides of myself I never knew existed. Tomorrow I will post a video of myself facing my stage fright. Is there a fear you faced that ended up being a catalyst for major growth and positive change in your life? Please share your answer in the comments. #ReclaimYourVoice
Planning the First @ReclaimYourVoice Event || For our first event, I decided to invite three speakers to share their stories. I planned to share my own story as well because I couldn’t ask anyone to do anything that I myself was unwilling to do. I approached three incredible women I knew who had each experienced some form of abuse. Although I strongly believed in this idea, my nerves began to kick in when it came time to ask if they’d be willing to share their stories publicly. I was worried that my proposition might come across as intrusive or insensitive, but all three of them caught me off guard by immediately agreeing to share their stories. @cher.bear8 was one of the women I invited to speak. I knew her through my photography work and had photographed her many times over the course of 10 years. Her excitement about speaking at this event surprised me completely. When I asked her why she seemed so eager to share something so deeply personal with a room full of people, she said that the only opportunity she’d ever had to share her story was within the cold and unfeeling confines of a courtroom while a defense attorney picked apart every detail of her disclosure and did everything he could to make her doubt herself. At our event she would have the opportunity to share her story―her truth―in a room full of supportive people without being interrupted, questioned or contested. I had a lack of knowledge and experience in this field, but Cher’s enthusiastic response to this opportunity strengthened my confidence in this idea, and started to give me a sense of how complex and multifaceted trauma and healing was. I recalled a quote from Mother Teresa that said, “I will never attend an anti-war rally; if you have a peace rally, invite me.” I’d been learning more and more about the importance of choosing words that focus on the outcome one hoped to achieve instead of on what one did not want, so I made the decision that this event was to be held not in the name of the war against abuse, but in the name of peace and healing for all.
You don’t have to tell your story if you don’t want to. But if the words feel like poison inside you, spit them out. You deserve to feel at ease within your body.
On average, every 6 days in Canada a woman is murdered by her intimate partner.
My ending is not so much a happy one as it is a lucky one. And that’s why I do what I do @reclaimyourvoice.
Yesterday during my meditation practice, in tearful gratitude I thanked the gods and the universe for this freedom, for this second chance at life, for these opportunities to become a better person, to love more, to give more, to grow more and for the glorious blessing of being able to heal underneath these palm trees. I thanked them for all the people they’ve sent to help me along my journey (you all and so many more), and said I will endure any storm they throw my way, but to just please keep sending these beautiful souls to help light the path.
Although in my recent post I shared how I escaped, my story is far from over. As most people who’ve been abused will tell you, the tough times don’t necessarily end just because we’ve been physically removed from the abuse.
So in the coming posts I will be speaking on what the aftermath of the abuse has looked like for me. May this and all the posts I have shared thus far be of benefit to those who need them most.
I am so incredibly close to overdosing right now, my mom keeps stressing me about my future and tells me that I am the worst person to exist and I can’t do this much longer.
I have strong painkillers downstairs and could take all of them and it’d be over.
I’ve come to realize. I’m utterly alone. I have no one to fall back on when life gets hard. I only have myself to rely on. I’ve never had to do this before. And I’m envious of my family never having to experience this. Which is why it hurts me so much that they ignore me and exclude me. I’m doing everything by myself. I’m paying my own bills, working and making my own money. I have 20 days to find a place to live or I’m out on my ass. I’ve asked my family. We’ll, I asked my mom. It’s been over a week now. She’s ignored my call and texts. It just breaks my heart that she doesn’t care if I end up homeless. That hurts. None of her other kids would end up homeless. My mom takes them all in. But me? No. Nobody cares about me in that family. Besides my big sister but she has her own life going on. Hers is hectic too. I know she loves me though. She’s shown me time and again. But the rest of my family? No. None of them love me. No one will help me. I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did to not deserve their love. I used to stay alive just for them. Stop cutting, for them. I’ve now learned to live for myself. Because they don’t give a damn about me. It hurts. I cry about this alot.
For a long time, I’ve hesitated to open up about this publicly because of the many ways that survivors’ stories and experiences are belittled or ignored. But I know that there are others like me out there, and I think it’s time for me to be brave once again.
I was emotionally abused – viciously and repeatedly – for years of my life. For many years, I was gaslighted, or told that the various family members (often extended) who did those things to me didn’t mean it.
For all those who were told “I don’t remember that” or “Let it go,” I will say:
*trigger warning*
Doors ripped off their hinges and thrown down stairs A coming out that was never my own (yes, I was outed as gay) “Your father doesn’t love you.” “Why would they make you work with a black girl?” Toys tossed through windows “What are you, a fag?” “Look at her dyke fingers!” “Go back to Harlem!” Every move monitored, showers timed “You’re getting into the ‘scary sizes’ now.” – said to me after my mother had just died “Your father is cheating on your mother.” – false; said to me at 8 years old Facebook name-calling attacks Called “crazy” for volunteering on a suicide helpline “Stupid.” “Stupid bitch.” “Slut.”
This is just a sampling of the wide array of tactics employed in attempts to destroy my confidence.
They failed.
The thing is, when you share these things openly, the shame leaves. The anger subsides. The terror weakens its hold over your life.
I am in a good, safe place now. One that I’ve built for myself. If you are where I was 10, 15, 20 years ago, know that you are not alone and that one day, they will cower in fear at your story, at your truth.
I have once again returned to express my rage at people’s reaction to Dead Horse, specifically the people who didn’t know Chad was married when he pursued Hayley making her the “other woman” in his relationship.
She was a teenager, a minor, when they met and he was a man in his 20’s in a band she loved. Don’t tell me that him using his status and influence as an adult over her wasn’t part of them getting together. This is the sort of thing men are called out for immediately in today’s world, but back then there wasn’t the widespread information or networks for a teenager being pursued by punk guy to learn from or go to.
Slut shaming her is not okay. She has admitted guilt on her part which is difficult. She’s also talked about how she has struggled throughout the decade her relationship lasted. Anyone can tell he was a serial cheater, emotionally abusive/manipulative. It is not her job to be a perfect person and after bearing her soul, she doesn’t deserve to have people telling her she’s a slut or a bad person.
…well it does… I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t. I legitimately struggle every single day with just living with this, let alone all the complications I have had with it along the way. I’ve been in therapy now for about 3 months, and it has helped me a lot to fully understand my many traumas…which also means having to relive those things, and face them head on again. I know I have been through a lot in 23 years to say the least, I understand the amount of trauma I have been through. Yet, I still find ways to deminish things I have been through. Just this week my therapist and I went over every traumatic event in my life other than my grandfather’s attempted murder and successful suicide when I was 14. Almost every year, was plauged with at least one traumatic event. What caught me off guard, or what was a big slap in the face of reality was when my therapist said to me that no toddler deserves abuse. All I could picture was, little toddler me being abused by my mother, not understanding what what was happening and it absolutely broke my heart. I just cried. I don’t know, maybe its because I’m older now and can see things from different perspectives now. I always knew my mom abused me my whole life, living with a mentally unstable person your entire life you’re going to be abused, and I got it on every level, mental, emotional and physical. One time when I was 3 or 4 my mom had a seizer in bed, and we lived about 1 hour away from the nearest hospital with an ER in it. My dad left me, and my mom in the house for 3 days and said that he didn’t “sign up for this shit” when he got married…ya kinda did, but that’s besides the point. My grandmother found me running about the house, I knew something was wrong with my mom but I couldn’t do anything about it, but I directed my grandmother upstairs to my mother. If my grandmother hadn’t come over I’m not sure what would have happened. There’s a lot that happened when I was little, a lot. I really bothers me why no one helped me. My grandmother has even told me that I should have been pulled out of my house and placed into foster care…why didnt she ever help? My brother who is 10 years older than me(who is also a cop), he never helped either and he knew too. I used to wish and hope some how some way, someone would pluck me out of that life and situation, but it never happened. So many things could have been different. I don’t know what normal is. So many traumatic things have continued to happen to me I don’t think that I would ever know what normal could be. But then when I see the people around me who haven’t had something horrible happen to them, they have veil over their eyes. They cannot, for whatever reason see past themselves, let alone any wrong doings of the world. I would like to think that these events have built me up to see these things around me for what they truly are. Maybe its my own way of coping with things, I don’t know. What I do know is that I have triggers daily, I’m on muscle relaxers because my body is so used to being tense all the time I can’t relax and have been having a lot of tension migraines lately; and the always lovely panic attacks. This is my normal. I have somehow found strength in myself to live with these things and thrive in them the best way that I can. I don’t know what the future holds for me, but despite everything that has happened and what I live with daily, my future is brighter than ever.
“Why do you beat yourself up so much over little mistakes?”
This is such a good illustration of emotional abuse
This is why you shouldn’t make fun of people for over-apologizing.
I will always remember after I moved in with husband for the first time, and I dropped a mug and it shattered. I went into a terrified panic, waiting for a rebuke that never came. And in some ways that was worse because it felt like I was being ignored and that was something else I dreaded too, because my god, you spend your life dancing on a knife edge between dreading attention and craving it, cutting your feet to ribbons to keep up with a tune you’re not allowed to learn because it’s always changing.
It took a very long time for me to trust that his affection wasn’t a weapon in disguise, that no, it really didn’t matter. Because a broken mug is just a broken mug and not a sign of my inherent lack of worth.
One night, I go out with a few coworkers. It’s only my second time at a bar, had I just turned 21 recently, And needed a night out.
After sleeping off the fun I had the night before. I see a message request.
Asking if I was at the bar last night.
Telling me I’m beautiful, and how he tracked down the girls I was with because he had to know my name.
I had no memory of seeing him anywhere that night.
An hour passed until I was back in service. To find your messages.
Back to back, asking me where I was and why it took so long.
Red flag #1 that I ignored.
Begging me to come see him at his house. This man I didnt know.
Instead, I settled for a phone call.
Hours of talking, and being a small town, he knew my family.
Realizing I’ve met him before. Numerous times in fact when I was younger.
I agreed to meet at the bar he saw me at one night. Thought a casual meet in public was acceptable.
Upon arriving, he greets me at the door and walks me in.
I excuse myself to the restroom before finding a seat.
A girl I didn’t know walks in, and approaches me.
She mentions she saw who i walked in with and tells me “He’s not a good guy, you should steer clear of him” and then walked out the door.
Red flag #2 ignored.
I figured a jealous ex.
I walk out and he sits us at the bar next to a girl, his sister.
I ask for water since I have to drive home.
After awhile, he disappears somewhere and I’m left with his sister and her boyfriend.
They begin ordering shots.
I can’t find him anywhere.
I attempt to get up, and his sister gives me a shot, so I oblige.
Trying to get up again, I’m stopped by another round of shots.
I precede to say I have to drive, and the sister goes to texting on her phone.
Next he appears, literally out of nowhere, and tells me there’s plenty of time, enjoy myself and then just drink water towards the end of the night.
So I take the shot and he vanishes again.
The sister and boyfriend feeding me shots after shots. Appearing once and says to have fun and if needed he can drive my car home and have someone bring him home. That he wasn’t drinking anymore. After all, I only seen him take 1 shot.
I called it quits several shots later and go to find him.
Standing up, realizing the shots hit me harder than I thought, and that I haven’t ate all day, the room spins around me.
He appears with an older lady, and introduces his mom to me.
I say I’m going outside to cool off and I’m ready to leave when he is.
He tells me he’s too drunk to drive my car and he had got dropped off there earlier, but his mom can drive my car to his house. Then once sober I can go home, or sleep on the couch if I wish.
After declining against it, that I will just sober up in my car then drive home.
He brings up my family and how they wouldn’t like that he let me sit outside a bar alone.
So I give in. His mother driving my car to his house, she sits awhile with us until her ride comes to get her.
Sadly a lot of people only see abuse as black and white. You may not have physical scars, but the emotional ones run deep to the point that they alter your DNA. A lot of people think that you could just get up and leave when in reality the actual thought of leaving physically hurts.
You can’t imagine life without them and you rationalize your pain as the ups and downs of life. Your abuser takes advantage of what is essentially your addiction to their attention. They dope you up with positivity only to take it away when you don’t meet their expectations - mentally breaking you. You find yourself craving and praying for their approval.
You’re never the same after that. There’s pre-them and after-them.
Once they leave you because they’re bored, have no use for you or worse found someone else to abuse, you become almost destitute and just broken. You struggle to move on and no matter how much therapy you get, you never truly go back to who you were before them. You find yourself becoming addicted to anyone who shows you kindness or replicates anything remotely close to your abuser on their best days. It’s a struggle that many people do not understand and often times blame you for putting up with it.
