Hey guys, so I’ve been going through a lot of changes (a lot of which I will blog about soon), but the biggest of all is that I’m moving. On Sunday, I will be in another country, another city, moving in with my boyfriend, and starting a whole new life.
I will still write in this blog as part of my SA recovery, but I felt it was a time to start a new one, one to reflect not on dealing with my past, but on putting together my present and building my new life. I’m sure it will bring a lot of challenges, but also a lot of beauty. I feel it’s only fitting to separate it in a new blog. I hope you guys enjoy it.
Always yours, Atlanta

The Nature Of Storms

As many of you may know, I’ve started the seeking africa blog as a kind of outlet of my recovery from SA, PTSD and depression.

For the most part, I have recovered. From the first moment the rape happened though, my life is inflicted by small and big ripple effects, and I’ve got a lot to work on.

Changes

I’m moving IN, with my boyfriend, and that’s not just a move.

On Sunday, I will be in another country, in another city, in another apartment, moving in with a guy for a first time in my life, and supporting myself without my parents on my freelancing earnings for a first time in my life. It’s a whole new life, filled with change.

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On SUICIDE thoughts: DOs and DONTs about talking to people having such

So I’m a little bit upset at people in general right now, or may be at the people from my country. I was reading the forum of one women’s magazine of my country(I was looking for one article, and found some topic in the forum), and there was a topic about a girl that wanted to kill herself. She consequently tried, but thankfully nothing happened. There were 12 pages of comments. I’m still on page 2, and already wondering, if I was at the place of that woman(girl? not sure how old she was) whether those comments wouldn’t push me further into it.

Few months back, in a blog I was reading in my native language, a girl admitted to having been raped. In one of the comments someone told her she probably didn’t fight hard enough if it happened anyway, that she probably opened her legs and waited for the guy to finish.

Really, people, think before you say something.

Trauma, depression, cutting or desire for suicide are not a joking matter. Continue reading

Money Matters

For a long time this past year, I’ve worked on myself.

More particularly, I’ve worked on overcoming my issue with rape. The summer when it happens, my whole universe snaps out of it’s axis, and the world changes for me. I know somewhere deep in me, life as I know it is over.

Now, it all sounds almost bearable. For more than half year, I have given everything I had to make it bearable, at first so deep in depression that it was hard to make myself get out of bed, let alone do anything else.
Finally, I am able to work nicely, to get up in the morning without feeling like I’ll break to pieces if I go outside, and to see my friends, without constantly having the feeling I’m living 2 lives at the same time.

When I first begin recovery, I’m touchy on everything around the issue. Pronouncing the word rape for a first time after the fact happens only after I have cried in a bathroom for 5 hours. And somehow, now that I’ve almost resolved that, I discover I’m almost as touchy on the subject of money. Continue reading

Exceptional Story! Shows the depths to which our mind goes to protect us. I love that this one has a happy ending. It’s uplifting to read, inspiring.

Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane Blog

Marie, who is profoundly deaf, came to live with us at the age of 7 years old.  At first she appeared to be your typical “tom boy”, but then she began to exhibit symptoms of being something more…symptoms of being an actual boy.  Quite simply, she TOLD me she was a boy.  She would only wear boy clothes, (including boy’s underwear.)  She refused to use the Ladies Rest Room so we found the family and unisex restrooms if she had to go to the bathroom in public.  She begged me to let her get her hair cut short, but her birth mother’s rights had not yet been terminated and she would not give permission for Marie to get a haircut, so Marie would pull it up in a pony tail on top of her head and wear a baseball cap everywhere.  She looked like a boy and she acted like…

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