To Heal from Emotional Damage Know what the Damage Was

The biggest obstacles in my way were avoiding looking at how I used by others, how I was objectified and not considered to be equally human, and how I was failed by others. By avoiding looking at the truth about that, I was able to excuse the damage they caused. I excused them because I had to. As a child, survival is of the utmost importance and if we start complaining about the people who are failing us, but are also in charge of our welfare, it is a pretty sure fact that we are not going to survive.

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Official Notice to Oppressors, Abusers and Perpetrators

When someone convinces you that you are "nothing" without them so they can take credit for the ideas and gifts that you bring to the table, that is psychological abuse. This happens often when the associate is a person with positional power, such a a therapist, dr. lawyer, priest or pastor or anyone who thinks that they have more value than you do.

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Domestic Violence Dream Triggers a Realization

It was as though I suddenly realized that her rants and rages had their foundation in her belief that I had hurt her perhaps on purpose; that I had actually “set out” to wreck things “for her” and that I had control over those things. I felt as though her disgust with me had to do with her false belief that I could make her world perfect if only I “wanted to”.

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The Black Hole of Emotional Neglect by Pam Witzemann

By age eighteen, I had experienced so much personal destruction by those claiming to love me that I became as a dying, bitter, old woman with no hope for any future. The only comfort and relief from the constant emotional pain, that I felt physically in my chest, was my drugs. It seemed to me that my drugs loved me better than any human being because they relieved me of having to feel the emptiness inside that grew more powerful by the day....

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How I learned to Self Abuse by Pam Witzemann

I first started using drugs at twelve when I began stealing my mother's allergy medicine to sleep. I was depressed and anxious most of the time. My family teased me for moping and pouting and I was called a scrooge because the holidays sent me into depression as they were days for my dad to drink to excess and spoil whatever childish expectation I had for culturally important days. I was afraid of holidays. No one ever tried to find out what was wrong.

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