Not so treasured memories

Hello, my pretties! How have you all been? Well, I hope! I’ve been doing well enough, though I have been feeling a bit tired after moving back home. I’m sure everything will settle down again soon, though! I hope you all have had a nice Christmas or holiday break for those who don’t celebrate!

With that out of the way, let us move on to the post, shall we?

On my previous post, I mentioned some treasured memories from my past. Today, I’ll mention some not so nice ones. I’ll briefly touch sexual assault, so proceed at your own risk.

Without further ado, here they go:

6 years old:

That was not a very good year.

First, there was the incident in which I rolled down a hill and became basically a bloody mess. I’m very lucky I’m not horribly scarred or dead.

Second, there was the lovely moment during Christmas celebrations in which my grandmonster, sorry, grandmother, kindly informed me that I was not a member of her family.

11 years old:

I was involved in a car accident – my cousin’s car flipped over a few times at a dirt road. I hurt my neck pretty severely, and got several cuts on my hand while I tried to punch my way out of the car through the glass. My brother, who was there too, fortunately helped me calm down and be rational – otherwise, I’d probably have ruined my hand completely in my panic. I still have scars on my left hand from the cuts, including a large one on my index finger where a piece of glass slashed a C-shaped cut which caused me to lose a lot of blood. All in all, though, we all walked out alive, so I’ll consider myself blessed for that.

15 years old:

This wasn’t a very pleasant one either. In the same year – and same month – I was sexually assaulted for the first time, and lost my beloved grandmother not too long after that. If I had to choose the worst month of my life, that was definitely it.

22 years old:

Second run-in with sexual assault, this time on the bus to my morning classes. Not fun at all. Had it not been for friends providing emotional support, I’d have lost my shit (more).

26 and 28 years old:

Managed to seriously mess up both ankles, not at the same time, lucky me. First one happened when the bus driver pulled away before I was fully out, and the other one happened during a fall on my way to work. For extra shit factor, my boss noticed that I was in pain and my ankle was swelling by the hour, and made me work through the day. And then complained that I was gonna have to be off my feet for a while because how dare I.

35 years old:

Had to deal with being denied medical treatment because the doctor I went to for help with my fibroids-induced brutal cramps thought the fact that some hypothetical husband might want children mattered more than the fact that I knew I didn’t. Her refusal set me back a long time, and I ended up having in November the surgery I should have had in March at the latest. I think I’ll simply look at the bright side here and say that at least I had an excellent medical team and the surgeon couldn’t have been better.

Eeek, sorry to end the year on such a downer of a note, but I think making a balance of things is necessary every now and then. I still have a lot more to be thankful for than I have to complain about, so there’s that. 

As always, I’m 100% open to your own experiences! Share them with me in the comments!

See you on the next post! Happy New Year! 


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