✤ Therapy Disappointment ✤

Trigger Warning: Self Injury.



I’ve been strugging a lot lately, but in the past no one wanted to give some extra help. Was always turned down, even when I begged them to help me. So it’s been a big issue for me for years now.

A few months ago I switched teams and finally felt like I was in the right place for help. Unfortunately that all ended within 24 hours.

I asked for an extra session with my psychiatrist and I could come over Thursday afternoon. My life is spinning out of control and I’ve been self harming pretty much every day. We had a good talk (I’m too tired to go into detail) and we decided going inpatient for 3 weeks was the best option at the moment. He said I would be put om a waiting list, but that I wouldn’t have to wait long.

This was such a relief! Finally I found someone who was able and willing to help. Going inpatient will be good  for me for a number of reasons and he agreed.

So this morning I had an extra appointment wih my therpist, who unfortunately decided she didn’t agree with my psychiatrist. She told me she does not want me to go inpatient, because I haven’t done enough to feel better myself (which is utter bullshit) and that my crisis wasn’t bad enough. I told her everything about what’s going on with me. But she doesn’t give a damn. I pleaded, begged, cried like a baby. Yet she stil wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say.

Needless to say I felt 100 times worse when I left. The only thing I’m doing is hurting myself in different ways. I’m so close to just giving up and be done with this hell called life. The only reason I’m even still here is my family. If it was just for me, I wouldn’t be around anymore.

Now I have to somehow get through the weekend. My head is killing me and I keep dissociating often. I have no fight left in me.


✤ Goodbye Cast! ✤

This morning, after 4 weeks, my cast could finally be removed. It was such a relief to get rid of the damn thing. When I came home my mom made a little ‘hot tub’ for my feet. Absolute heaven haha. Then used some awesome scrub from Rituals to get rid of all the loose skin. Put some oil on and then some warm, comfy socks.

It’s evening now and my ankle/foot is really starting to hurt. Took extra Tramadol, so hopefully that will help. The muscles are so cramped.

Tomorrow morning I have my first appointment with a physical therapist. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that with his help, my ankle will heal again, after all these years.

In 3 weeks I need to go back to the hospital to talk about how things are going. Would be really disappointed if I have to have another scan.

✤ Sexual Harassment and  Molestation: Part 2 ✤



We have no idea how this post is going to turn out to be honest. There’s so much chaos in our head and so much pain when we think about how we were treated. All these horrible flashbacks have given us mayor anxiety and so many ‘dissociation periods’.

This post is written by me, Mana. Before I became we.

It started when I was about 6 years old. There was a boy who always took me into the bushes, showed me his penis and made me pull down my pants as well. He never touched me or made me touch him. Yet it still is a bad memory. Just can’t get the bad feelings out of our head.


When I was 12 years old the next thing happened. I was on holiday with my parents, having a good time. A cute guy came up to me, held my hand and we just floated around the pool like that. Then he asked if I would mind going in the hottub and I went with him. He proceeded to stick his hand down my bikini pants and places my hand on his penis. I completely freaked out, but instead of that resulting in me punching him in the face, I froze. I couldn’t move. I barely managed to tell him to let go of me, but he didn’t listen. Have absolutely no idea how long we sat there like that, but if felt like hours. In the end I finally managed to get away from him and ran to the shower to scrub myself clean. I fell to the floor, crying like a baby.

I was absolutely terrified and didn’t dare to tell anyone what had happened. I just felt so gross, so disgusting. What was making it worse, is that I saw him multiple times a day and I was too scared to go anywhere. What if he followed me? What would he do to me then, after rejecting his advances? I managed to avoid him during the rest of our holiday, thank god.


Well, this was the first part. Writing this was so much harder than I (we) thought it would be. Not sure when the next part will be up. We’re struggling so much.

✤ Sexual Harassment and  Molestation: Part 1 ✤


We’ve never told anyone about this. Just hid the memories, the feelings, in a dark corner of our minds. We’re literally shaking and crying whilst writing this. Not sure why, but all these ‘hidden’ memories are flooding back to the the surface and we have clue how to cope with it. Have never even told our therapists abou it, because we buried it. Now we’re too scared to talk about it, because we’re terrified of them telling the parents, even though I’m 29 / Amelia 20 / Sam 34. I’m sure they’ll find out sooner or later.

We’re very concerned about what will happen next. Think Sam has to deal with most of this, he’s much more mature and stronger than me and Amelia.  We have no idea where to start though. It’s very dangerous to let all that back in. Our mind is already a huge chaos. We’re just too scared. We don’t want the family to know.

We actually don’t remember the people who did this. They were strangers. Coping with that proved to be too much. That’s probably when it went from ‘me’ to ‘us’. It was so scary. Too scared to run away. Too scared to say no. Too scared to tell someone. We never did EMDR with this ofcourse, the therapist didn’t know. Not sure what to do now…