Therapists Need Therapy.
- Reads 137
- Votes 16
- Parts 8
MatureComplete Tue, Feb 18, 202548m
My name is Jesse Port. I am a specialized group therapist who works with troubled teens and young adults. But there is something that stands out. Or rather, someone...
Please read at your own discretion. TWs: Rape, Violence, Sex, Abuse, Suicide.
All Rights Reserved
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"There comes a point where you no longer care if there's a light at the end of the tunnel or not. You're just sick of the tunnel." - Who I am doesn't matter. How I got here doesn't matter. What matters now is I'm getting help, right? That's what they tell me here. They tell me that the road to recovery feels like a terrible butt fuck, but the fact that you're on the path to begin with, is all that matters. So as I sit in this circle of fuck ups, I realize just how different I am from them. I didn't attempt suicide because my mother was a crack addict who didn't want me. My father wasn't abusive. I didn't have a sibling die in a car accident. I was never really bullied either. I attempted suicide because, for the first time in years, I thought I had found something that could make me feel again... and after not feeling much at all for far too long, perhaps I went a bit overboardComplete
ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ'ꜱ ꜰɪᴀɴᴄÉᴇ
𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳. 𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘍𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤é 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. "𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱..." 𝘐 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳. 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺, 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯. 𝘐 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩. "𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.. 𝘑𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮." 𝘐 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥. "𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸." 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘣 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥.. 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬. "𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦." 𝘐 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘴. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯. 𝘔𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺Complete
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*TW* Contains topics and scenes of sexual assault, self-harm, abuse.* "You know you loved every second of it," I can feel the tears welling up as well as the anger building up within me. I stare at him for a while before I have to turn away from his hungry gaze. "Look I just came here to tell you that I forgive you for what you did back in Cali and I'll take you back," "You forgive me?" I yell. "I did nothing to you. You raped me! You fucking raped me! You have no right to come here and tell me that. You. Forgive. Me. You traumatized me. What you did to me tore me up inside and was eating away at me until I tried to kill myself. And when I told people they didn't believe me. I had to listen to so many people talk about how great a guy you were and how I clearly just regretted sleeping with you. You are a monster. You made me hate myself for something that was never my fault. You have caused me so much pain and suffering," I pause to take a deep breath. "So you don't get to come here to my school and tell me you forgive me. You don't get to make me feel bad about coming forward. The only thing I regret is ever thinking you were a good person." _____________________________________________ Logan Young is a 16-year-old girl about to start her senior year in a brand new town. The past year has been tough and her family moved to give her a fresh start. Her life before the move had been hard and she had been spiraling. She quickly makes new friends and even enemies. She builds up walls to protect herself. But what happens when an unlikely person helps her to tear down her walls and heal. Will she be able to survive in this new place and keep her secrets intact?Complete
"There comes a point where you no longer care if there's a light at the end of the tunnel or not. You're just sick of the tunnel." - Who I am doesn't matter. How I got here doesn't matter. What matters now is I'm getting help, right? That's what they tell me here. They tell me that the road to recovery feels like a terrible butt fuck, but the fact that you're on the path to begin with, is all that matters. So as I sit in this circle of fuck ups, I realize just how different I am from them. I didn't attempt suicide because my mother was a crack addict who didn't want me. My father wasn't abusive. I didn't have a sibling die in a car accident. I was never really bullied either. I attempted suicide because, for the first time in years, I thought I had found something that could make me feel again... and after not feeling much at all for far too long, perhaps I went a bit overboard
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