Search Results: sleep disorder

I suffer from very frequent nightmares and they sometimes cause panic attacks so i sometimes sleep with my baby blanket (which was my favorite when I was young) because it calms me down..

I'm afraid somebody would judge me for it.

I was often beaten by my parents and most of the time I didn’t do something wrong to be beaten as I was well behaved but stubborn. They often planned together in front of me that they will hit me then both would start using things to beat me like bamboo sticks, hoover sticks, metal rods, wire hangers etc. They used to also hit my younger sister and brother sometimes and once my sister complained at the school for which she received a further beating. sometimes I feel pangs of hatred mainly towards my mum who raised us after my dad left. She’d often tell us that we ruined her life for being born and that “your dad is a dog and he left his dog kids with me.” Once she hit me in my sleep with a hoover stick when I was twelve repeatedly to wake me up and since then I hated her. My mother said scarring things that made me permanently lose respect for her and neglected my youngest brother when he was a baby so me and my sister had to raise him even though we were still babies ourselves. She used to get angry and break stuff all the time and then I would have to clean it up and when we were small she never used to clean the house - it was a wreck. Her and her brothers used to talk crap about our dad and say we’ll be like him and they used to tell her “these kids won’t take care of you.” They were so disgusting. I could never imagine ever doing that to a child. I know this isn’t the worst case of child abuse and there are worse but it still damaged me and I have bulimia nervosa (have done since I was nine), I have been clinically depressed since I was eight and diagnosed with high levels of anxiety and social anxiety disorder at 12. All that manifested into borderline personality disorder and then body dysmorphia. My mum always denies the abuse now because she seems a different person and people think I’m crazy. Only my siblings know the truth because they saw it and everyone plays down what happened. She says “if I hit you how did you get this big? How are you still alive?”

Firstly, Peanut was the name of my small service dog. I'm in a wheelchair so when I went out, peanut layed in a bed on my tray loving the ride and attention.
Second, I just had to put him down (to sleep) bc of his age, heart murmur and enlarged heart.
Thirdly, I've been trying to cover his memory on my online accounts. I wear him in a urn necklace but online stuff can change.
Fourthly, as you can see from MHO and opinions, I think I've done well here and would hate to start over. (I do that enough in life bc of a disorder I have)
And fifthly, I'm posting to see who's empathetic enough to agree bc peanuts memory will live on, just not online. :(

You ask for so little and you get so little.
You asked for an olive branch and received a twig.
You didn't know whether your tears were of gratitude.
Either way you bowed to the giver,
slept with the bark caressed in your hand like a baby kangaroo.
Woke up to down a cream 100 mg
With your tender diminishing wrists grasping coffee,
The icicles' shine reflecting as you peered.
The mist is a veil to the lies
And you beg to yourself to see,
Parched mouth from obsessive prayer
And the too-much-caffeine
Which was a buzz more brief than your beloved gin.

You trek to a no woman's land
And believe yourself a buccaneer
Even in daydream, the chest of gold unfound
Even in sleep, the cries of a dead leaf
As fallen as the rain which flew it away.

To see her strike a disordered tear
On the bike ride home, and hear
Her privatized dissonance, a blame to rain,
Knowing of the dusty biography
No one could ever read
For their eyes watered too
For the shed petals on a windowsill
Their eyes watered too