i'm using interwebPPC!! really slow, but it loads

So I deleted my last blog post, and I've been doing a small bit better. I've started medication and other supports too. I have realized though the fact that I can express those emotions through art is a incredibly powerful tool... ever since I started drawing other things besides Power Puff Girls oc's (I know, I was 10) I've always wanted to be able to make something that can own up to those awful experiences... even last year, when I was still unsafe, I wasn't able to make something that I felt like could express those feelings. It felt muffled, and not raw enough, like I was holding back. Now that I'm able to process it all, it became a lot easier to draw that fear.. even when I don't have the words, being able to draw it out helps me not feel trapped inside and locked down entirely. I no longer have this awful, sinking feeling that I need to constantly draw myself in the situation anymore though. For a little while, it became obsessive. But I'm not going to stop drawing those subject matters entirely. Just learning on how to pace myself, and not accidentally make it worse, by focusing on it for weeks at a time.

I would like to thank my boyfriend Jonah, my dad, Kit, Chay, Dani and my baby cat Butterbeer for being here for me when it's hard for me to even leave my bed and I think it would be easier for me to bail myself off a bridge then try to get better, because I still somewhat believe I can't. The last few months have been incredibly difficult, and it still continues to be hard. But I realize I should stick around, at least for a few months longer at the minimum. Having you guys around, and making plans for the smallest of things has helped me so much in ways I can't even describe.

I used to (and sometimes still irrationally) believe my mother broke me as a person. Her constant harassment and assaults ever since I was a young child made me feel violated, and, being desperate for her approval, I let her continue until I couldn't handle it anymore. When the justice system failed me, you guys were there for me. Sometimes I still feel like a broken glass, and when someone would try to comfort and help me I would feel like I'm sharp glass and they are tender hands trying to glue me back together. I was afraid that I would cut open their hands in the process, being so broken and unlovable. Like I am tainted. I'm trying to finally get over that now, but it's so hard. My boyfriend described it like callouses or scars, but I could only see it as being irreparably broken . I'm not a mask of some evil person underneath, I'm just a person who was just hurt. And unlike my mother, I'm actively looking to not become a perpetrator.

I only have like 3 Newgrounds followers, but I'd thought I make this post after the... worrying.. one I made last week.