✿ The Female Inspiration Movement~ ✿

[Isis Sister Of Osiris]

iiRawr_Destiny

Moral of the Story: Find people in your life who make you happy and don't let them go.

emotion_hug I'm so glad you have someone to support you!  

[OptimisticBookworm]

Do I have a story?
Well, yeah.. I mean everyone does.
.. I don't know if it's inspirational.. or if there is even a moral, but here we go.. (sorry if it's too personal.. Or has too much real information in it, but I prefer being honest, and don't feel like making up fake names)

I was born 4 months premature on May 1, 1995, weighing at 1 pound and 7 ounces at St. David's Hospital in Austin, Texas . Dr. Love (that was really his name!) told my parents I wouldn't live long. If at all, I'd come with a gazillion disabilities. Being unable to walk, or talk, having to stay in a wheel chair, or just being unable to function as a person. I was supposed to die. 'Nuff said.. I was really sick, and so small that I could fit in the palm of someone's hand, and the nurses had to keep me in an incubator for about 3 months, plus during the time I was in the hospital my parents couldn't hold me without disinfecting themselves, nor could anyone else.. My parents were homeless.. to the point that they had to live in the hospital for awhile. As time wore on, I was discharged, and they made a nice living for themselves. Then, they wouldn't stop fighting, and dad couldn't you know NOT do drugs, so mom left and took me with her. I was 2 when we moved to San Antonio. Life was good (I suppose?) Yet, there was something wrong with my body, no matter what I ate, I didn't feel good. So, when I was 6, after thorough tests, I stayed in a month at the hospital, and they removed my gall bladder (you need this organ.. it helps digest sugar) which probably destroyed my digestive system in my opinion. I soon came to have short bowel syndrome.. terrible syndrome which I give you all permission to look on your free time. I deal with eating small things everyday and just a tiny bit of everything, otherwise I just get the worst pain imaginable. As I grew older, many of my family members passed away.. and I missed them so much, I just couldn't figure out why grandpa had to die, and why God took Aunt Gloria away from me. If the deaths didn't make me depressed, some very personal family issues and high school certainly did. I realized (with help from one of my best friends) that at some point in my subconscious mind, I chose to date people who I wanted to help "fix" in hopes that if I could fix them, I wouldn't need to fix myself. However, before I even dated anyone.. I'd hardly entered the 9th grade, when my uncle died. He was perhaps the person I was closest to out of my entire family. I thought I was going to just live life in a complete dead end daze. Yet, I began to slowly get over his death.. and found myself face to face with a 3 year span of boyfriends one after the other. First this guy who just showed me what it was like to really care for someone, that was what I gained out of the 1 month relationship.. Then came an online 5 month relationship, which taught me how reality can hit you in the face if you don't open your eyes. Lastly, came the one who (sorry for the cliche?) who was my true first love. This one impacted me the most. It lasted a year. An amazing first 6 months.. towards the ending, I was so down, we went through a terrible period of not spending time together, or even holding hands. Over the past 18 years of my life, I dealt with signs of suicide, depression, self-loathing.. and I'm alright today. I currently am embracing the single life, and am throwing myself into the last 4 weeks till I graduate. Afterwards, I'll live life for the moment, and trust in myself to make rational grown-up decisions, no more foolish mistakes.

I don't know if this is exactly inspirational. I suppose in a way it is. I've learned that life throws boulders at you, and if you believe enough, you can overcome anything, as long as you set your mind to it.
(I'm really sorry if this seems depressing over all.)  

[Queen Lucia]

I'm 25, wiser than when I was a year ago. I've found that 24 and 25, and ages before then have their own mental processes. You wake up one day, and common sense finally arrives at your door. The world is no longer difficult to understand, or at least that's been my experience.

I grew up in a loving, but broken home. My mother's sister took me in at age 11, and at one point turned abusive mentally and eventually physical. I was lucky to have a Godfather to take me in after I left her. He has been the best dad and support I've ever had.

I was bullied in school since Kindergarten. In college, I was a hermit and a recluse, until I decided to study abroad in Ireland. It forced me to be an adult as I traveled alone, made new friends, and called my own Taxi cabs (I was afraid of phone calls for years).

My shell was cracking, and over the next year and a half, I finally grew a thick skin and became social. My facial appearance also improved (acne disappeared, guys started noticing me, etc). It was during this transition that I became fully aware of my anxiety, and shyness. I had never questioned it because I was always this way.

Another problem I dealt with was depression, and it was during the first semester of my final year that I hit rock bottom. I didn't have support, and I was alone. My cast mates alienated me. There were days when I'd spend hours fantasying how to take my own life.

Thankfully, I figured out in time that it was my new birth control which caused me to go suicidal, and I stopped taking it. I moved on, getting to play major roles for a main stage show, and bonding with people that I knew for four years, but never hangout with before. I also graduated college!

As an adult, I've blossomed. I'm a totally different person than I was a year ago, too. I've learned to love myself, talk to strangers, and build up my confidence bit by bit. I'm not 100% cured, but because of my experiences, and the fact that my brain developed overnight, I can be my own person without worrying about everyone else. Growing up is a giant process, and it really does get better.

My current roadblock is that I'm not an open person, and I have a hard time showing affection from the years of bullying and a less than stellar family. But I don't see it as impossible to overcome. It'll just take time to evolve, just as it has always been with everything else.  

[The Nephilim Rosier]

♥ Hi ya'll, I thought I'd take a shot at getting stuff out, and hopefully someone finds it inspiring.
...
Okay, so I typed it up and seeing as it's rather beefy, I decided to pop it into my journal. Read it if you want, it's here -> [x]
Tl;dr, don't give in to bullies. You may feel left alone, but you aren't. There are people who love you. Really, there are. And you will get past it, I promise. Things will get better. ♥

 

[TH3_G1ITCH_]

gaia_nitemareleft gaia_nitemareright

I love this thread!
I don't think I have anything inspirational to post but this thread makes me so happy!

Thank you so much for creating this!

 

[Clasela]

k i r a i g o u

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You're welcome! It's been a bit slow lately, but I would love to see more ladies sharing their stories of hope. 3nodding
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[Miss_XxAriaxX]

I would like to convey a message to all about physical or verbal abuse.

You can defend yourself verbally or even physically. Do not let anyone aggress you ! There are ways to defend yourself, you must firmly say NO ! STOP ! LEAVE ME ALONE ! and I advise you to take self-defense courses to learn more on how to defend yourself physically.

The only one responsible of the attack is the aggressor. Do not put the blame on you !

I really hate people asking women how they were dressed when an aggressor did something.

Why putting the blame of the women clothes ? It's the aggressor the one who did something WRONG !

I thought I couldn't defend myself because I'm a skinny girl without strength. I was totally wrong ! We all can be STRONG ! We just need to hit at places that hurt the most on the human body. That's why I advise you to take self-defense courses.

I took one and it really opened my eyes. We are strong. We can defend ourselves. We can save ourselves from aggression.  

[creepin it real]

“I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.” -Marilyn Monroe

♚ Hello, girls. I was just accepted into the guild and I want to build some close friendships and I figure the best way to start would be to share my story with you all. I want to warn everyone that my story could easily be triggering. I've been through a lot, and I don't want reading my story to spark bad memories for anyone who's suffered through some of the same things as I have.

I guess I'm going to start with my disability. My mom was never supposed to have children, when she found out she was pregnant with me she thought I was her 'miracle baby'. However during her pregnancy, there was some sort of accident that resulted in my body halting its development below the elbow of my left arm. They have called it amneotic band syndrome, but the official diagnosis or name for it has never really been given. I've always been insanely self conscious because of my arm, and I dealt with intense bullying throughout school. I would come home crying almost every day. They'd call me a freak or a 'defect', or even 'alien'. I had only one friend the entirety of my elementary school years. From the summer of the sixth grade up until about five months ago I wore a jacket every single day to try to hide my arm. Even in hundred degree summer days. When I had a heat stroke a while ago, my friends, family, and boyfriend decided to confiscate my jackets and encourage me to start avoiding it.

When I was only a baby, my mother and father divorced from his abuse towards her. From the ages of 1-3 my biological father raped and abused me during all of my weeks with him. He'd drug me or tire me out so I couldn't fight, but I never knew anything was wrong because I was too young. Eventually, I told my mom about what was happening. My father went on the run and for the next few years the cops had to search for him. When they finally found him, he plead guilty to not only assaulting me but also two other girls. This year he was released from prison to a half-way house, ran again, and has been missing for several months. Since that event more girls have come forward about being abused by him. Cops constantly patrol my neighborhood in case he comes back, and a month ago we had a break in while my mother and I were gone, so we are constantly on our guard.

After my father went to jail I thought everything was my fault. I attempted suicide at age four and was hospitalized in a children's psychiatric ward for a month. They misdiagnosed me as schizophrenic (in reality, it was a horrid case of PTSD but I was hearing voices and seeing things so I don't blame them), and I was on such heavy medication that I could hardly function. Over the next few years I was in and out of therapy. To date I have been diagnosed with PTSD, severe depression, body dysmorphic disorder, bulimia anorexia and EDNOS at various points, severe perfectionism, panic disorder and social anxiety, severe insomnia. I believe I have, but have not been professionally diagnosed with, kleptomania, night terror / night mare disorders, and minor dermatillomania. I'm still bouncing in and out of therapy but currently have been released.

In 2008 my mother's second pregnancy resulted in a stillborn birth and I nearly lost her as well. This is because of a doctors mistake. They misplaced her file with another woman's and based on the other woman's test results thought there was a reason for concern with a major problem for the baby, and wanted to run further testing. They then 'forgot' to sterilize the needle, and infected my mother with staff infection. That killed the baby and nearly killed her, she was in the hospital for months. The doctor admitted to it, but no court in the state would accept our case.

I came out a few years back as pansexual and atheist to a very Christian family. I was disowned by several family members, called a 'lesbian whore', told I was doomed to go to Hell, and was forbidden to enter their homes. I was raped again by someone I thought was a friend a few days before Christmas last year, beaten, and was stuck in a hospital for a few days. That was my families 'realizing moment' that they needed to drop their hate for me, and they did.

Within the past few months my mothers health has deteriorated and she's been diagnosed with cancer. We cannot afford surgery to remove her cancer, and so things at the moment are just a waiting game. My great grandfather, who practically raised me, has a brain aneurism and heart problems and isn't expected to live more than a few years. My family lives off my checks for my disability.


As of these last few months I have made the decision to stop living in my past and allowing myself to suffer over things I can't control. I was, as I mentioned, released from therapy. I am coming down from my psychiatric medicines and becoming independent from them. I owe so much of my progression to my amazing, fantastic boyfriend. We originally met in preschool. I had a huge crush on him through elementary school and on, and he was always kind to me. We lost contact a few years ago, but started talking again this year. We connected amazingly all over again. His family accepted me and encouraged me through everything and they've all been so great to me. He's the person I want to marry one day. I've grown to realize that the things that have happened to me are not my fault, but letting it destroy me is. So, I'm on the road to recovery!

My boyfriend and I

 

[Clasela]

creepin it real

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Oh goodness, you're such a beautiful person and your story truly touched me! I'm so glad everything is falling into place for you after years of pain. It made me cry to hear about your mother and grandfather. My mother also has a brain aneurism. We're getting the results a few weeks before Christmas and my father's cancer is currently stable, but I remember what it was like to cry every night being anxious which day would be my last with him. Keep being strong, no matter what happens and if you ever feel down, this is a wonderful guild full of caring people who will do anything they can to help and support you~!
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[diet bepis]

I'll just put this under a spoiler...

show spoilerhide spoiler

When I was 15, I found I was pregnant on July 8, 2013. Now before anyone starts making any assumptions, please don't. I was as careful as I could be. We used a condom, properly, every time. There were no obvious tears or rips in the condoms. Sometimes things just happen.
I had been feeling very sick for about a week, not wanting to eat anything at all and just feeling very tired, but I had no idea it would turn out to be pregnancy.
My 16th birthday was on July 18, 2013. I was out of town with a friend and her family for my birthday. Nowhere near my own family, my boyfriend, who was the only person I actually wanted to be with. He was scared, but he did a wonderful job of sticking by my side and being supportive. He stayed with me every step of the way - (and still is with me.)
So. I spent my birthday in another state, walking around for a week straight, getting not much sleep, active, riding roller coasters. It was exhausting. My body couldn't take all that activity. Of course, I couldn't stop to take a break or tell my friend's mom why I was so tired. If I'm being honest, my birthday trip, which was very expensive and should've been lots of fun... was not fun at all. All I was excited to do on the trip was go back to the hotel and sleep.

I came home, dead tired and more scared than ever. The trip was over. I was back to the real world. And I was still pregnant.
So, my boyfriend got a job. I applied for jobs but everyone told me to come back.
We hadn't told anything to anybody yet except one of our close friends. I don't know what we thought we were planning for. What we were saving money for.
Abortion? Having the baby? Parenthood?
We didn't know. We just knew something needed to be done.

Well, one day, my boyfriend and I were in a restaurant. I wouldn't say that the news had actually sunk in yet, but I was calmer. Less scared. I didn't cry as much. We were leaving, but I told him to wait while I went to the bathroom.
Upon getting in there, I noticed dark brown blood staining basically all of my underwear. I don't know how I didn't feel that. There was a lot of blood.
Confused, I ran back out to my boyfriend, told him what was happening, and we called our mutual friend to ask her to google possibilities for us. She asked me if I was having back pain, and I said "yes". She asked me where and i said it was in my lower back and it was very sharp. She asked if I had cramps, and yes I did, they were very painful but I had figured they were just because of the pregnancy. She told me I may be having a miscarriage.

The rest of that night is a bit of a blur. I went home eventually, curled up into bed, and felt the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. The cramps only got worse and worse and I cried so hard into the night. I cried for myself, and my boyfriend, and our baby. I was in denial for a while, still thinking I was pregnant, but as soon as the bright gush of red blood came and stayed for a week, I knew it was over. All I remember of that night really is watching Bridget Jones' Diary in bed while I laid there crying.

That was four months ago, and I wish I could say my heart has healed even a little. But it hasn't. I think of our little baby everyday, there for only a month and a half and then just gone. He thinks she was a girl, and the name Isabel just came to me one day, so I call "her" that. I don't know if that's weird or morbid. but it helps me.

And, I think the inspiration I'm pulling from this story is... girls, who are pregnant, or grieving, there is hope out there. I don't know where it comes from, but just remember that you aren't alone. I am just like so many of you in so many ways. And I sincerely hurt for anyone who ever has to deal with this. But you're not ever alone.

emotion_bigheart

(PS. My inbox is always open to anyone who needs to talk about anything related to pregnancy or miscarriage or anything at all, actually. <3)

 

[loonaboots]

i.. i don't really think i have a "story?" it's more like a collection of small things and one big chain of events, i suppose. anyways. i'm just gonna type em' all up like one, it's a bit easier to do.


show spoilerhide spoiler
my mom had a hard pregnancy with me. so i, along with my sister (we're fraternal twins) was born about 2 1/2 months early- we had to stay in an incubator for a long time, we were very small (my dad could hold each of us at the same time no problem), and my sister's lungs weren't fully developed. as a result, she has asthma. personally, i have had an asthma attack but i don't have asthma. instead, i was sick a lot of the time when i was little. it stopped around the time i was 10, after i got h1n1. woo.

this may come into play later, so i'll state this now- both my grandfathers died before i was born. they knew i was going to be born, but that's it. i have met my father's mother once, as they don't talk. my mother's mother i have the closest relationship to, although she's not the best grandmother.

anyways, my mother and father married when my mother was in med school, and then they moved to minnesota. growing up, i do remember a fair amount of arguments between the two- they were kind of slowly falling apart. i have mainly happy memories, though.

as well as me getting sick a lot (i actually named one of my stuffed animals tylenol because it was such a constant in my life), i had and still have heightened hearing, as well as touch and sight (as in, things are brighter, colors are a little more vivid, p. much). so, this was a problem- wool socks were hell, shaving cream was hell, leafblowers were hell, etc. thankfully, hanna andersson exists. anywho, life continued on- i got bitten by a dog under the eye in 1st grade, my mom had her friend who is a plastic surgeon stitch it up; the scar is barely able to be seen.

when i was seven, things took a turn for the worse.

long story short, a couple weeks after i started school my mother found out my father had been cheating on her. fighting started, and a divorce began. i had started to be bullied in school, and my mother was diagnosed with breastcancer, after finding a lump. and noone believed me when i said that my parents were getting a divorce at school, and later, when my mother was told she had cancer and then told us- when i said that my parents were getting divorced, i was called a liar. same thing happened when i mentioned what my mom was going though. obviously, that's not the best for self-esteem, or overall anything.

so, the fighting between them became greater, to the point where one time my mother called the police to try and kick out my father. they couldn't do anything, and he moved into an apartment shortly after. i didn't see him much for a bit, and it was always a nice thing to see him when i did. at the same time, my mom started having surgery, hormonal therapy, stays in the hospital, and chemo here and there. we (my sister, my brother, and i) were brought out of school to see her during the times she was staying in the hospital (we were living with our dad in his apartment when she was in the hospital), and outside of the hospital she was constantly tired, sleepy, irritable, etc. it wasn't a great environment for us.

around this time, the divorce was finalized (after about 2 years), and my mom got a mastectomy. so in short, things were coming together again. my dad started dating someone who is now my stepmom, but that happened a bit later. my grandmother came around a lot during this time to help out, and it mainly ended up being her telling us how spoiled we were, how we were ignorant, how our dad was horrible,, etc. every time she did this, she would apologize and say she wouldn't do it again.

around this time, i was still being bullied at the time- it had gotten worse, and this was maybe third, early fourth grade?- to the point where i would call home crying near weekly and beg to be transferred to a different school. the faculty didn't believe me because one of the people bullying me said that i was bullying her, and basically, everything revolving around how i felt plummeted. i was put on an antidepressant, and i hated it to the point where i dumped it down the sink when i could- at one point i remember trying to barf it up. mostly, it was being dumped down the sink and hidden under my tongue until i could spit it out. i felt trapped inside my own body, like someone else was controlling me. no way was i taking that. i got angry, lashed out, etc. i became slightly suicidal, and also became anxious to the point where i would go out of my way almost all the time to not talk to people, something i still have trouble with to this day- i barely speak in school, and even then to a small amount of people. but always very quietly, for some reason. i have trouble speaking up and asking for help, my social skills have taken a critical hit, and forget about speaking in front of a class.

my mom moved after selling the house- i still miss that house, wish i was living in it still.

things took a turn for the better in fourth grade.

my dad got remarried in fourth grade, in new jersey (i live in minnesota), so we flew out for a week and a half or so to be there. it was fun, save for my siblings being incredibly.. obtuse to the whole thing.

in fourth grade and fifth grade, my stepmother became pregnant. i was the only one of my siblings who accepted it, and wasn't, once again, obtuse. they didn't want anything to do with her (little sister), and for the first few months cate was around, i was generally the only one of my siblings who would be interact with her and willingly. i developed a bit of middle child syndrome around this time, but it's 99% gone now.

they warmed up, dad lost his job, so both dad and christine (stepmom) were unemployed, and nearly had to sell the house. this was either in 5th or 6th grade.

i graduated elementary school, somehow miraculously not doing serious physical harm to me or someone else.

dad got a job in new york in 6th grade, and it was debated whether or not i would move to new york. i didn't, as mom still lived here, and so he moved with cate and christine there for two years. christine found a job as well, and lila, my second half sister, was born when they were living there. my siblings were not refusing to associate this time. they moved back after two years, and when lila was 4 months old into the same house, as they never sold it. it just kind of stood empty, save for the few times i biked over there and walked around, as well as the times that dad flew back to have some time with us.

when he was in new york, my mom took up her personal mission to make us believe that he had abandoned us, that he didn't care about us. she became more vindictive and angry, and it still continues (although less abundant) today.

i wasn't being bullied, but i was being teased in the middle school i was at. so i transferred schools before 8th grade.

i've been at the school i'm at now since then, and my life has certainly got a lot less crazy since then- there were good days and bad days all around in between all of that crap, and personally i think it's a miracle i came out of all the crap in elementary and middle school less scarred and cynical than i am now.

i have trouble with motivation across the board, figuring out what i want, all the stuff with social interaction previously listed, have trouble caring about things, am easily stressed, am panicky, and am generally a cynical, not very optimistic person.

so, currently am i kind of messed up? yes, but i'm doing much, much better than i was a while ago, and especially in elementary school.

i.. don't really know what i'm trying to say with all this, but hey- if you're going through hell, keep trucking on, i suppose? don't be afraid to give hell some hell of its own, and for the love of god, don't bottle it all up like i did. talk to someone, shout what you want to say at the top of your lungs if you have to.

there's always gonna be a light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how faint it is right now.

you can do it! : -)

 

[Clasela]

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Going to begin reading the latest stories. I need a pick-me-up. I'm always getting told bad news lately.
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[Queen Pansexual]

I don't really have an inspirational story myself. I'm the middle child in a middle-class family. My parents went through a divorce last year and things have been rough. I'm not one to go into details, so I won't, but my mom is bipolar so we rarely get along. My dad isn't always here, but that's because he's always working to support me and my younger sister. I used to cry every other night, but now I'm much better. It's all because I've told myself I'll get stronger and because I read inspirational stories like the ones in this thread and because it's always darkest before the dawn, ladies, and even when you think something bad won't get better, it does.

My mom's gotten better and my dad's got a girlfriend who is very considerate and kind. Sometimes life throws curve balls, and sometimes life goes easy so you can learn to hit 'em.