My Journey

Reads 37
Votes 9
Parts 3
Time <5 mins

Reads 37
Votes 9
Parts 3
Time <5 mins

anxiety bipolar depression healing jesus mentalhealth

Hi i'm Lillie! I just wanted to share my story and write about how Jesus has helped me through hard times.All Rights Reserved

anxiety bipolar depression healing jesus mentalhealth

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WIshing Away Curve Balls by NaideenBunnell

God only knows that we all have struggles. I battle a severe case of PTSD with dis-associative properties... Depression... I also fight various hallucinations that - I am sure if I give in- could be considered a form of schizophrenia. . We all reach a point of Rock bottom . We shatter, fall apart. My pieces are many, explicit at times, but it will begin to show you a day in my mind. I am not sure what to consider this, but it will begin to hopefully open your mind to how PTSD can be brought on, & how difficult it is for those who have to handle the ramifications of battling their mental disorder. -All rights reserved- Copyright@CrazyWildBeans: This is my first story-- please comment & give feed back. I am considering researching and writing in more detail about the subject matter of mental illness/ abuse and what it does in society.

He had rules for a reason, or thats what he said. I did something wrong I got punished. I spoke out of turn, I got punished. I looked at him or ate without permission, I got punished. Haven thats what they named me funny isn't it? Ironic really. They named me Haven because my mom would say I was her 'Safe Haven'. What a pile of shit that was. She left willingly, she didn't depart because of some tragic accident. My father didn't kill her. She left because she was a coward who didn't want kids. As soon as my older brother went to college she left. I knew she hated me. I was the product of her love with another man. A constant reminder that her life didn't work out the way it was planned. He who ever he was is a phantom in its own. A deep rooted fantasy never going to come true. My brother left, my mother left, my grandma ignored, and my father broke. They let me give up hope on escaping and then decided to play hero. But I haven't forgotten everything I went through. Guilt consumes my brother but I don't care, you don't get to leave and then buy a reprieve of trying to save someone who has been dead for years. Besides lets just be honest I reached my breaking point long ago.

*new cover* I'm living in a house made of glass. I'm scared to move, to breathe, to think. I'm afraid. Any wrong move and I get yelled at, a broken rule and I get beat up...he's not even my father and I'm stuck in his own fucked up version of reality. My own mother is the reason he has me, the reason my family lost me. A broken, lost mafia princess living in the wrong story, taken from the right one. I've been in foster care all my life, until them...my brothers. I am saved by them when my shattered heart was about to turn into stone and when my cries would become echoes in the walls of the prison I was bestowed upon. I was months old when I was stolen from my family. 17 years had to go by for them to finally find me. My dad, my four older brothers..one of which I'll soon discover is my twin. My missing half. Will they be able to mend my shattered soul or will I remain broken and alone? TW: rape, abuse, assault, attempted suicide, strong language - Warning: contains teenage pregnancy SHE DOES KEEP THE BABY STOP SNAPPING AT ME DAMMIT...respectfully <3 *Edited*...sort of

STORY 4 BOOK 2 of Loving November Grace Five years ago I was swept up in this storm. The storm of him. And for a beautiful second, our clouds, they collided. Our skin hydrated. Loving the way the rain felt across our nerves. The electricity, the lightning burning us. And this storm it broke and fixed me all at once. It tore down everything in it's path, destroyed walls and melted ice I thought was forever going to be inside of me, but it also nurtured my heart and I grew. I grew and I survived everything after; all the consequences of loving him. We survived. I was left with memories, and imprints that only whispered to be heard. And even they faded over the years. I wasn't ever going to see him again and that was okay. It was okay until it wasn't. Until it wasn't a reality. And he walked right into my little coffee shop. Because when two points are destined to touch, when paths are pushed together, forced to cross- There's no rule that they only cross once. If the universe wants it, it will always find a way to make the connection. Cole and I lost each other, and I thought that was fate, that is what was destined for us. It was the safest thing for us all. It still is. And that is fine. But when we did meet again, all those years later- it wasn't. Nothing at all was fine. There are so many reasons why I should have stayed away, so many reasons why that fire, that fire should have gone out by now, and nothing but ash should be left. Yet it burned. Us. Them. It was destructive and neither of us even wanted it. But. It's us. Our hearts are old friends, our skin, etched with each other's fingertips.

How to Find Purpose and Peace: Why Am I Here? by tacocat91

Why am I here? What is my purpose? What is the meaning of life? Why am I alive? It seems that since the dawn of time we have been asking ourselves this very question. Kings and philosophers have puzzled and theorized, and paupers and plebeians toil under the sun wondering if there's more to life. Even today we seem to be frantically running here or there trying to get the latest scoop, wondering if someone has finally figured it out. People look high and low, and they try a number of things only to still feel unhappy and dissatisfied. In my own life, the only thing that has made me truly happy and given me peace for my soul is God. He has been the chief help in combating my anxiety and depression. For me, God has been the foundation that I've placed my life around and have built my identity. I write about how I've found purpose, peace and how you can too! Jesus loves you and has an amazing plan for your life! Buckle up, and let's read about the purpose of your life and how to find real peace!

The Ramblings of A Sometimes Psychopath by shirleyfhoffman

This is a book I wrote to my future grandchildren that is full of short stories about my life and the lessons I learned along the way. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder type 1 with psychotic episodes when I was 37 years old. I want my grand children to hear my stories from my point of view. In this book, I talk about my childhood abuse and trauma. I talk about how I have healed from them. I talk about how my mother-in-law tried to poison me on my wedding night even though I was about 8 months pregnant. I talk about how my religious ideations during my episodes caused me to stop praying to Jesus, to stop being a Christian, and to become spiritual instead of religious. I talk about the revelations and visions I had during my mania and psychosis so my future grandkids can look into my mind to see what I was going through at the time. I was built by trauma and laughter. I am looking for some constructive criticism, but I have had enough negativity in my life and so have you. Please be kind.

saving hope it is about a girl who goes through a number imaginable things. She dealt with the loss of her father and the remarriage she had to go through with an abusive stepfather who drank too much, she had to suffer from anxiety, depression, and ptsd. At first it was a project in middle school that me and four other friends decided to do because we all loved writing and we were learning about the world and all the mess that it was we were learning about all the bad before we got to the good. And we wanted to write about it. I had gotten abused and wrote the main thing happening in the beginning. But as I was writing over the years it took a change. I experienced loss and abuse and I felt like the whole world was crumbling around me and my mind was telling me I was alone. I started to write my story tweaked enough to where no one could tell. I put in things that wouldn't happen in real life but made a good story but the base of it was me. It doesn't have a happy ending but it has a meaning to me. I call it my brain vomit and my novel baby. It isn't perfect but neither am I. I have been wanting to publish this fully and I have on a seperate wattled account under the name bad boys mission and took it down. under the username GOTTO14 I have also published two other books on that wattpad account called believe and wildflower if you wanna go check those out aswell.

(H20Delirious X Fem. Reader) "wιll we вe ғree?" I asked He smiled, thats what I'm after. The smile on his face and sound of his laughter. "we wιll вe ғree тogeтнer! yoυ and мe!" He answered ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Being an orphan, you don't have a lot of experience's or happy memories. Especially if your orphanage uses you for human experiments. The pain...the agony- the screams of the other kids I once called friends and played with...all gone and replaced with despair. Only teddy could keep me company and keep me sane. Till one day, a new boy was brought in and he was strange. But he interested the kids, even the scientists. He was placed in my room and he never spoke a word to anyone. He would wake up in the middle of the night and gasp for air like if there never was any. But he was my friend. Things changed and a few years later, the orphanage was attacked. Two people came in and killed the scientists but spared the children. While making an attempt to escape, I was caught by the remaining scientists and taken away. The screams of my friend echoing behind me as I tried to escape... Such a waste as I became strong and have long forgotten those memories. But side effects came with the experiments they played with. Y/N is the name and being psychotic is my game. Don't try to catch me cause I can read you like a book in a grand library. Secrets are never kept when the walls an objects around you speak your truth... ╭⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯╮ First Published: June 25, 2021

"How would you describe your old self?" She asks "I-I was a butterfly, but he beat me down, snapped my wings and forced me to crawl. I was turned into a pest; I was disgusting, dirty. He would step on me, and laughed when I slowly tried to revive myself. He destroyed me; the last strand I had hanging onto the thread." I run my fingers through my hair, "I was mindless, I was a walking corpse with no mind, a marionette. Constantly being tugged at, but I no longer cared. I was a still doll; he was my puppet master.” I stare at her," Do you know what it feels like to be enslaved to someone you thought would be there for you? To be kicked around as if you weren't human; to be tortured to the point where you had to get surgery, to be disrespected on so many levels, to be hurt when you didn't want to, to almost be killed, to lose friends because they couldn't help you, to become a wander-less soul.” --- Ciel has been through hell and back in her past life, but when her confession session goes too far about her abusive relationship with a man, will it be too much for her therapist to take? Find out what happens in the story Therapy...

WIshing Away Curve Balls

God only knows that we all have struggles. I battle a severe case of PTSD with dis-associative properties... Depression... I also fight various hallucinations that - I am sure if I give in- could be considered a form of schizophrenia. . We all reach a point of Rock bottom . We shatter, fall apart. My pieces are many, explicit at times, but it will begin to show you a day in my mind. I am not sure what to consider this, but it will begin to hopefully open your mind to how PTSD can be brought on, & how difficult it is for those who have to handle the ramifications of battling their mental disorder. -All rights reserved- Copyright@CrazyWildBeans: This is my first story-- please comment & give feed back. I am considering researching and writing in more detail about the subject matter of mental illness/ abuse and what it does in society.

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