When I was able to speak my first sentence, it was 3 words, "be happy again". It was written in my baby book which was understandably sparse, and my mother *still* thinks it& #39;s cute. I think those words indicate maybe at one point I experienced brief happiness then it disappeared

Another thing: my first day of nursery school I asked her to drop me off down the street because I didn& #39;t want to be seen with her. The response: "my 5 year old is so Independent". No. I& #39;m embarrassed to be seen with you, because I don& #39;t trust you to act in any normal manner https://abs.twimg.com/emoji/v2/... draggable="false" alt="😂" title="Gesicht mit Freudentränen" aria-label="Emoji: Gesicht mit Freudentränen">

If either of my birth givers say ,"I love you" I have a visceral reaction. I have to hang up the phone OR say "you too, bye" very quickly. It makes my skin crawl. That& #39;s just the way I feel. Donate to Planned Parenthood if you can& #39;t take care of your children. They can help.

I didn& #39;t even tell you about the time she was 2 hours late picking me up from therapy in the rain, so I waited outside the entire time, or 6 hours late picking me up for Christian summer camp then this creepy Christian couple offered me a place to sleep. My insticts: I& #39;ll wait.https://abs.twimg.com/emoji/v2/... draggable="false" alt="😂" title="Gesicht mit Freudentränen" aria-label="Emoji: Gesicht mit Freudentränen">

*instincts

Either way, the therapy office was trying to close and I told them "I think I see her car!" I knew the car wasn& #39;t there. My clothes were soaked. I was maybe 10, 11. I laugh now, but when I was outside waiting for the car it was NOT funny. I found a slab of cement to hide under

The main reason I& #39;m writing this thread is because Trauma is real and stories like this are nothing to make fun of or exploit for your own personal amusement.