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  (#1 (permalink)) Old
Taviaxoxo Offline
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Name: Tavia
Age: 24
Gender: ♥ Princess
Location: Virginia

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Join Date: December 6th 2012

My Story - June 28th 2013, 06:22 AM

This thread has been labeled as triggering by the original poster or by a Moderator. Please take this into consideration before continuing to read.

So, before I say anything else, I know this might not fit here but I think there are many places on this sit where it both will and won't fit. If you can think of anywhere better feel free to move it.

This is something that I've seen going around the internet and I figured it would be healing for me to do one myself. This is my story.

[EDITED - IMAGE]

I've always had two different ears--one pretty one and a normal one, or at least that's what I used to call them. Around the time I was ten that mystery was solved when someone admitted to me that I only have a "normal" ear and what's left of an ear after my aunt's puppy took a good bite out of it.

As you travel along my face you'll discover my scar, the one from when I was building a fort with my sister's sister and the snowglobe came crashing down onto my forehead. I had blue stitches and a story.

No bruises came from the spankings and fist fights that my houses saw over from childhood to adolescence. The only harmful scars I bear are the ones on my wrist. They're faded now, but I still feel the turmoil and can hear the echoes up the stairwell the day that they found out, "why don't you just go to your room and slit your wrists like you keep telling everybody you're going to?"

Flash forward a year and I had kept my promise to my closest friends and my mother who swore she'd send me to a doctor--in fact, it turned out that all I needed to get over that little spiral in my life was a good scare. Like freshman year when the belt got stuck around my neck and all of my heartbeats blurred into one. Sometimes, if I let myself drift into the past, I can still feel it around my neck along with the empty knowledge that "this is it."

My childhood scars are pretty normal for your uncoordinated little girl. Lovely sets of scars graced my kneecaps throughout childhood, yet eventually faded away... except for one. My right knee that I busted open at the sixth grade picnic--one of the boys knelt down in front of me to clean it up with his sweatshirt. That was about the time that I learned boys are nicer than girls.

I could still show you the spot on my right calf where I came back from my first time ice-skating with a scar. I had learned that freedom doesn't always come free.

Other things, I wasn't so lucky to have scars from. Instead, I suffered through it myself, without a single scratch or scar as a cry for help. I was around four when my mom's boyfriend's cousin pulled down my panties--I pulled them up and ran out of that room with tears in my eyes which never as much as looked at that man again. My mother had taught me to spy the molesters in a group of old men... it was a shame she didn't do the same for little girls. Like her boyfriend's daughter, who had fallen victim to the man in the bedroom and had learned some things that she liked. The first time she kissed me was in my Barbie play tent. I guess it was symbolic that the more innocence that I lost, the more the scenery did as well, moving from Barbie tents to closets.

Last edited by Palmolive; June 29th 2013 at 10:16 AM. Reason: Removing triggering content.
   
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Catharsis. Offline
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Re: My Story - June 29th 2013, 11:38 AM

Hello, Tavia!

I'm sorry to hear about everything you've been through. However, it's great that you shared this with us! It can be good to let it out in some way, and I'm sure that someone out there will read this, and feel less alone because they've been through the same thing.

So, thanks for sharing, and take care!

~ Gareth
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