Teenager Incest

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I bet her parents are going to freak out when they first see this...
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Okay, now I have to go wash my brain out with soap.
#2 answer was Faggot Andy. This dude got Faggot in his name and the name Clark still beat out his name. *screatches like a monkey*
Besides the fact none of you seem to have the brain capacity to do a little research. This girl is known to post twisted "humor" videos. Google "Americanish girl".
"Girl acts like retard for YouTube views."
Either this girl is really retarded or she's just faking this for attention, which means she's still really retarded. So basically either way the cookie crumbles she's just completely retarded. And she's a thief.
Aye Pappy... You forgot to change profiles before you commented on your own stuff. Still, I agree...retarded.
Show me Dick. *Ping* #1 answer. Jimmy play or pass?
She's cute, I would like to smell her sexy feet, need to suck them toes.
Its his sister......he knows from Incest!

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Oliver Adey18 January 202118 January 20210
These words are for you, like a bottle in the sea. Because my incest started with words…
"I want you. I want to make love to you. It's normal, all dads feel that way …" These are the words I heard as a young teenager when my father secludes me in my room, sits next to me on my bed, hand on the upper thigh and begins his long monologue. I am no longer there, complete dissociation.
"Come on darling, come give your darling dad a kiss." And these are the words that, a few days later, accompanied this image of my father in the living room, lying on the couch masturbating. I had never kissed a boy, it was the first time I saw a penis… I go two days to my best friend, I run away.
I continued to live, to grow up, under the same roof as my attacker, my father.
The incest of words is also trauma. The incest of gestures, WITHOUT penetration, is also psychological damage.
So when it starts with words, you need serious and immediate support. Something I haven't had the chance to have …
It is a tsunami of both body and mind, which comes in flashes. And I am living it today, alone and isolated with my two dependent children.
But it actually starts long before the flashes. It takes a long time to understand what's going on inside us. Three years ago, everything was already preparing in my head.
Our body tries to send signals to our mind.
I remember, every time I hugged my mom or my big brother, I had a strange feeling. An unpleasant tickle in the vagina that I experienced as an intrusion. My body stiffened.
And then there is this erased childhood. No memory until the age of nine. The complete void. My childhood memories were built through family photo albums.
And a year ago, my first flash. A memory comes back to me. I was so stunned by these images… I felt them with all my senses. And then I understood that as a little girl, other things had happened to me, far more than the incest of words.
Today I sometimes wake up in my vomit. I have phantom pains in my vagina, as if I had been cut with razor blades. I have insomnia. I vacillate between bulimia without vomiting and a complete loss of appetite. I leave in tears, until exhaustion. I have dark thoughts.
I'm trying to decipher all of this as best I can, but it is very complex. The images are monstrous, violent and raw. I can't say the words yet, for fear I won't be able to escape it.
Then after these flashes, in the wake, you have to continue living your daily life when you only have one desire: HURRY.
"I always had my doubts about your father … You know, I never left you alone with him" : a phrase from my mother when I was thirty, a blow with a club. I couldn't understand how such a gentle and motherly mother could leave her child in such danger. Because in the end, alone with my father, I was …
After my first flashes, I told her "Mom, I know everything." She turned her back on me.
One after one, my inner circle abandoned me in my pain… My family, my husband, a lot of friends. People shun ugly, it makes them uncomfortable. We're angry, but people call us crazy. We trivialize, we minimize, we de-dramatize.
I heard phrases from it that devastated me:
"You tire us out."
"Stop your cinema, you don't have cancer."
"You are selfish. We all have problems."
Those around us must give us this time, because looking into this evil allows us to give meaning to our existence.
You need a support team, a solid environment.
I've been knocking on doors for two years to be followed. I did everything, even voluntarily interning in a psychiatric hospital for several days to try to find quick solutions. We take two small steps, then we take three giant steps back …
I'm not blaming anyone. It’s the fault of the system at a national level. I have met many good people over the past few years who are doing what they can, with the means at hand.
But between retirement, overloaded schedules, health situation and medical desert in rural areas, I struggle to find suitable and regular psychotherapy.
I was followed for a year by a psychiatrist at the CMP before I could see a psychiatrist because the waiting list was very long and you have to go to committee.
I had a psych date that only lasted fifteen minutes, after six months of waiting. "All that for this !"
I've been prescribed antidepressants, sleeping pills, anxiolytics, and even antipsychotics. All preventing me from going about my daily life, because the brain is cloudy.
In two years we have never said the word "incest" during my sessions. The word is replaced by "childhood" or "past" or "what happened to you with your father."
"We'll see that later" I am told when I speak of incest. In two years, no psychologist or psychiatrist has yet wanted to bring up the subject. And none were specialized in trauma and sexual violence.
In over 20 years, no one told me yet "you are a victim", neither within my close entourage (family and friends), nor with the medical profession.
"Madam, if you only make (suicide) attempts, we will stop taking you seriously", an emergency doctor told me one day. Do I have to kill myself to be heard? We need to train the medical profession for more empathy.
I tried to find a talk group to meet other victims. There are none near my home.
I don't know where to hang in order to move forward. I have no more support branches left.
Help me. For my children … To show that a rainbow exists behind the storm. May light emerge after darkness! And that my fight does not end in a huge mess.
To keep fighting, I need two things:
1) Find a psychologist specializing in traumatology and traumatic amnesia in the Vosges (or elsewhere, by video)
2) Help to start a lyric group in the Vosges
If you are a victim, join me! (Write to me at incestevosges@gmail.com)
To see also: "In France, a child raped by an adult must prove his non-consent": associations wind up against the Schiappa law
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766 Alexander Road
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WC38 8NP
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