Narratives as an Outlet
thanks for setting this up @Bree-RO i might try to find my anger one and post it and surfing one
Yeah that would be a good kick off thank you @j95 look forward to it.
Surfing makes him feel powerful, in control yet level headed and confident.
He can feel his feet on the hard board below, the cold air against his face and he subconsciously navigates the wave, he doesn't have to think about it. He angles his body in direction he needs to go, he can feel the cold water on his hands as he starts a turn. The feeling is exhilarating, he concentrates on perfecting the turn, blocking the sound of the other surfers out as he pushes his board up, trying to perfect the snap. He clears it, and he can't stop smiling. He keeps steady on his feet, stay on the board.
The waves starts to go flat, he feels the pressure in his heals, gets the rail in the water. Knees heavy. He pushes ready for that bottom turn to finish the wave off. His heart is beating out of his chest but he isn't even thinking, it's almost second nature. The finishes the wave, he's submerged by the ocean, his body is taken by the water. The rush of cold water hitting his bare skin and the thick wetsuit. He pops back up from the cold icey ocean, the rush of adrenaline still there and made even stronger by roar of the wave breaking down near the shore. He can hear his short sharp breathing, and the cold air, it's time to find his board and do it all again.
Soooooo damn goooood! @j95 You definitely have a skill here!
How do you feel sharing those?
Just on your first one, there's a theme of feeling alone with these emotions huh? Do you know of any support groups in Melbourne for people who've been exposed to trauma such as yours mate? Would be so rad if they were kind of young men too.. Have you heard of anything like that, or would you be open to anything like that?
And this one I wrote.
Heads up its kind of heavy though.
need you to stop hurting me.
I want you to pick me up and hug me.
I need you to tell me you love me.
I want you encourage me.
I need to feel loved and safe.
You are hurting me harder than last night. I can hear mum yelling the background, she's swearing at the kids. The room is spinning, I feel like I can breathe. It hurts.
Please stop hurting me.
I want to push you away, I want you to stop this but I can't I'm too small. You're too strong and I can't fight it. You keep going and I can no longer stand up, it hurts too much. Please stop making me feel so small, please don't stand over me and tell me I'm useless.
I can smell the alcohol on you and it's making me feel even sicker.
I'm numb, I can't even feel the places that you hurt me anymore. And the shoe that you used will go back to its spot on the step and we'll redo this whole thing.
Tomorrow the numbess will fade and it'll turn into stinging bruises and we'll do it all again.
I can't breathe, I need to stand up strong for my brothers and sisters and I can't. I need to fight for them because you will get to them soon, please don't hurt them. I'll stand in the way. I'm not letting you touch them, I'm protecting them, if I think I'm going to die trying.
I have to hold this family together. You can't hurt them.
I need you to love me. I need you to protect me like I'm protecting them.
Please tell me you love me, please keep me safe.
You're so good at written expression @j95 it makes me want to start writing again. I used to do the same narratives to explain how I was feeling in the situation. Or I'd write poetry.
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He's running so fast he can hear his loud breath, it's shallow and he feels like he can't continue it. But he is scared, he has no choice but to keep running.
The cold concrete hit his feet with every step. He can feel the stones and gumnuts on the foot path that dig into his feet. It's painful. The sound of his breath is getting heavier, as is the pain in his lungs. The much heavier footsteps follow him, a loud thud as each foot hits the concrete.
It is so dark with only the dim street lights bringing a small light, but the rest is dark, like his feelings - scared, alone, not knowing how things will go.
The loud foot steps get louder, they are getting closer now.
He runs onto the main road, it's so quiet, not even the noise of a train echoes in the distance. The normally busy strip of shops is dark and silent like a ghost town.
The footsteps are getting closer and closer, he can hear the breath of this person behind him. He can already sense the anger inside him.
The foot steps get closer, so close that he has no choice but to turn the corner into a vacant space.
It's an old shop. It's slightly warmer than outside, but it's dark. The textures under his feet change. He can feel all sorts of rubbish from the derelict building under his feet.
He tries to look down at what he's standing on, but it's too late. This person has caught up to him.
He feels a hand on his shoulder. It's too late now, he's stuck. He tries to pull away he can't. His heart is racing. He knows what is going to happen but still isn't ready for it.
The person grabs his already ripped Tshirt, enough to get a firm grip. He picks him up enough to feel his feet almost leave the ground. He throws him against the concrete wall. The feeling of his back hit the wall is unbearable, as his body sinks into the floor and lands on the rubbish, the sticks of, the nails. The back of his head hurts so much he feel like he can't hold it up anymore. The more he holds his head down, the more this person stands over him. He is trying to block the words out but he can't. He has heard the words so many times before but if still hurts. The voice is angry.
This person kicks him, the middle of his stomach. The impact makes him tear up, but he know he can't cry or it will start to get worse.
There's another punch. He feels numb, he can see the blood but he can't feel like it coming out, he can't feel anything anymore. The person grabs him again. His body hurts as he is hit again, and again.
Everything turns black.
@j95 😞 Really very powerful. How do you feel after writing this one out mate?
Have you tried painting a new narrative? @j95
One of your future as you would like it to be? One where the past doesn't dictate the present?
When I read that I think wow, you've come so incredibly far - I am very proud. I am logging off now but let's chat on this more tomorrow night with the rest of the forums 🙂
Hey @j95 hmm, I very much understand that. I get it a lot too, I have big goals and expectations for myself and I fear I won't hit the mark. I don't know if this helps, but as time goes by I find the journey of my dreams more interesting and enjoyable.
It's like they say success is a moving target. Once you attain something, or some vision of how you want your life to be, you still want more. I believe you will get what you dream of... Sometimes we have to trust the process.
**warning this is kinda intense and my trigger some people** - please edit if any of it does not meet guidelines @Bree-RO-
Let's call her Lucy...
Hey, it's me...Lucy. I want to tell you about..well..me. But more specifically what keeps happening to me. Have you ever been caught in a trance? Like - you are so focused on something in your mind that you can't see what's really happening in front of you? I want you to imagine that you're caught in a trance right now. You can't see in front of you. Everything is a blur to your real eyes. Images and movements pass you by but you don't acknowledge them. You can't. You can't because your mind is somewhere else..a whole different world that wants to stop you constantly. You’re driving down the road and you begin to have a conversation with yourself about an imaginary conversation with a past teacher from high school. You’re four years out of high school but this person loves to catch you in a trance and you want to be in this trance. Or maybe you don't. You’re unsure..because during the conversation you're bawling your eyes out. You’re telling your teacher about the fights at home..the yelling and arguing between mum and dad..the screaming from your disabled sister..the arguments about how to look after her. You look into your teachers eyes and tell him about mum threatening to leave home all the time...how she hates your father. You tell your teacher but then you can't look him in the eye, about the time the window got smashed because they threw a milk bottle at each other. And you don't want to tell him about the time you cried yourself to sleep and tried to block your ears ..... You want it to stop. You look at the floor and the teacher is sitting across from you. You tell him about the time dad threw your blankets out into the mud and rain on Christmas morning and yelled at you to cook Christmas lunch...... You're afraid to tell your teacher that there is now a crack in the middle of your bedroom door that you cover up with a poster.. ...And that your father hurt you. ..alot... You’re crying again. You want to tell him how scared you were the other day when your father made you climb up omto the roof in the pooring rain while it was thunder and lightning to clean leaves out of the gutter because water was leaking into the living room. You want to tell your teacher how you begged your father not to make you do it but he made you because if you didn't you would be grounded and get yelled at. You're in the room telling your teacher but your mind is in your bedroom. You've taken the door handle off the inside so your father can't open the door and you listen to him screaming at you and banging the door..telling you how angry he is at you and how you're lazy and a free loader. You stop talking. You can't look at your teacher. You’re shaking. You’re afraid to tell him about your boyfriend at school who is pressuring you into having sex and the teacher who yelled at you for failing a pop quiz in class..you were the only one to fail. She singled you out and told you that she only wants committed people in her class. Stop. Suddenly you're back in your car driving into the curb of the street you live on. You wipe your eyes and sit in your car for five minutes. You don't want to go into the house and let your housemates see that you have been crying. And you ask yourself why you had that conversation with yourself? Why did you go through the imagination of telling your past high school teacher any of this in the car? You don't go to school anymore. You don't even see this teacher. You don't live with your father..the relationship is better between you now....
Because my name is Lucy and these are the things I wish I told my teacher when I was sitting on that little couch in the wellbeing office in year 12. But I couldn't tell him. I was afraid to speak. I said I couldn't eat and felt sick all the time and that I was stressed with exams coming up. He told you about confidentiality and you were scared you would get your parents into trouble. You imagined the yelling from your father and you convinced yourself that things at home were okay... I was just a disobedient child. It was my fault.
I keep asking myself why I didn't tell him..my teacher. I wish he knew. I wish things had changed then. It's taken so long and these things keep haunting me. I want to move on but I can't stop crying sometimes and I get horrible pangs in my gut about things that have happened. I get lost in this trance where I talk to my old teacher about things that are happening and i try to justify my decisions to him. I make up conversations where he asks me how I am going and I tell him everything that is going on. I don't know why I do this. I try to forget him and then it turns into a other inagined conversation but with a past counsellor. I don't know why I do this. I just don't know.
Hey @mspaceK don't be sorry at all thank you so much for sharing, and thanks heaps for the TW. I did a small edit, being mindful of other members of the community around specific methods of abuse, but I think it is incredibly important you share your story so very minor edits.
That's a lot to have happened in a young person's life, and a lot of weight on the back of your shoulders from the past.. I am assuming this is your story? I again want to thank you so much for sharing this with everyone. Do you need any further support around this, a webchat or phone call with a helpline? I think you are such an amazing human coming out the other side of this, it's okay to cry about our past sometimes, I just want to acknowledge the long distance you've come from that trauma, and the well-rounded individual you've blossomed into - well done. We're all here for you 
Yeah it's a true story 😞 thanks. Sometimes I'm okay and sometimes I'm not. I don't know whether I should contact a helpline about it 😕 @Bree-RO
Is contacting a helpline something that you think would help you? 🙂
hey @May_. I have in the past and I do pretty regularly. I'm trying not to be so dependent on them because I want to learn to get past all this and self-manage. But I do contact them when I feel like I really need to. I don't know if I should talk about this past stuff though 😕
