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Trauma Quotes

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Trauma Quotes

“In contrast to ordinary memories both good and bad, which are mutable and dynamically changing over time, traumatic memories are fixed and static. They’re imprints, engrams from past overwhelming experiences. Deep impressions carved into the sufferer’s brain body and psyche. These harsh and frozen imprints do not yield to change, nor do they readily update with current information. The fixity of imprints prevents us from forming new strategies and extracting new meanings. There is no fresh ever-changing now, and no real flow in life. In this way, the past lives on in the present.”

PastMemoryTraumaTraumatizedPeter LevineTrauma And Memory
Author:Peter A. Levine Ph.D.
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“Awakening The historical agonizing moments of hysteria mocking, left negative imprints into my tomorrow mourning, triggering constant anxiousness in the moment worrying, worrying about the past is not living for tomorrow. Awakening from historical trauma is moving forward to live today and for tomorrow. Facing tomorrow, must be living in the present day. Living at the moment, awakening begins. Feeling the moment awakening awakens. Awakening allows genuine moments to penetrate. Awakening creates new memories of the present time. Awakening aware of the past. Awakening is in the present. Awakening willing to be there for tomorrow. You have awakened from the past, living in present and facing tomorrow. You are well awaken living your life. by Tina Leung: I Face Forward poem”

AwarenessSelf LoveMental HealthTraumaSelf CarePtsdSeek HelpLiving Poem
Book:I Face Forward
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“What daily life is like for “a multiple” Imagine that you have periods of “lost time.” You may find writings or drawings which you must have done, but do not remember producing. Perhaps you find child-sized clothing or toys in your home but have no children. You might also hear voices or babies crying in your head. Imagine that you can never predict when you will be able to have certain knowledge or social skills, and your emotions and your energy level seem to change at the drop of a hat, and for no apparent reason. You cannot understand why you feel what you feel, and, if you are in therapy, you cannot explore those feelings when asked. Your life feels disjointed and often confusing. It is a frightening experience. It feels out of control, and you probably think you are going crazy. That is what it is like to be multiple, and all of it is experienced by the ANPs. A multiple may also experience very concrete problems, even life-threatening ones.”

FeelingsFearPsychologyCrazyCommunicationAbuseShameTraumaMental IllnessConfusionTherapyTeamworkSecretsPsychiatryDissociative Identity DisorderDiagnosisStigmaDissociationPsychotherapyAmnesiaMultiplicityMultiple Personality DisorderRitual AbuseMultiple PersonalitiesMental DisorderVoicesDissociative AmnesiaTherapistMpdDdnosHearing VoicesIntrusive ThoughtsAnpInternal VoicesMental ProblemsChild Identity
Book:Healing the Unimaginable: Treating Ritual Abuse and Mind Control
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“The story of one life cannot be told separately from the story of other lives. Who are we? The question is not simple. What we call the self is part of a larger matrix of relationship and society. Had we been born to a different family, in a different time, to a different world, we would not be the same. All the lives that surround us are in us.”

WarRelationshipsHistorySelf HelpTraumaConnectednessOthernessOthering
Book:A Chorus of Stones: The Private Life of War
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“Attachment. A secure attachment is the ability to bond; to develop a secure and safe base; an unbreakable or perceivable inability to shatter to bond between primary parental caregiver(s) and child; a quest for familiarity; an unspoken language and knowledge that a caregiver will be a permanent fixture.”

TraumaAttachmentPtsdChildhood TraumaBondsCapella UniversityParental BondReactive Attachment Disorder
Book:The Effects of Childhood Trauma on Adult Perception and Worldview
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“I am not a child to be fought over.' Nesta's pulse pounded throughout her body, 'Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern's camp?' 'I do,' Elain said coldly. 'And I remember Feyre rescuing me.' Roaring erupted in Nesta's head. For a heartbeat, it appeared that Elain might say something to soften the words. But Nesta cut her off, seething at the pity about to be thrown her way. 'Look who decided to grow claws after all,' she crooned. 'Maybe you've become interesting at last, Elain.' Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike. Elain's eyes brightened with pain. Something imploded in Nesta's chest at that expression. She opened her mouth, as if it could somehow be undone. But Elain said, 'I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

TraumaSarah J MaasProtectiveNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesHurtfulBitchElain ArcheronElain
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Amnesia, which is a loss of memory, is a symptom of many different trauma and/or dissociative disorders, including PTSD, Dissociative Fugue, Dissociative Disorder Not Otherwise Specified and Dissociative Identity Disorder. Amnesia can affect both implicit and explicit memory.”

AbuseVictimMemoryTraumaChild AbuseDissociative Identity DisorderDissociationAmnesiaSurvivorsMultiple Personality DisorderMemory LossDissociative AmnesiaDissociative DisordersFugueTraumaticDdnosTrauma SurvivorFugue StatePostraumatic Stress Disorder
Book:The Impact of Early Life Trauma on Health and Disease: The Hidden Epidemic
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“All you have done is help yourself to our money.' 'Your mate's money.' Another flash of hurt. 'Thank you so much for taking time out of your home-making and shopping to remember me.' 'I built a room in this house for you. I asked you to help me decorate it. You told me to piss off.' 'Why would I ever want to stay in this house?' Where she could see precisely how happy they were, where none of them seemed remotely as decimated as she'd been by the war. She'd come so close to being a part of it- of that circle. Had held their hands as they'd stood together on the morning of the final battle and believed they might all make it. Then she'd learned precisely how mercilessly it might be ripped away. What the cost of hop and joy and love truly was. She never wanted to face it again. Never wanted to endure what she'd felt in that forest clearing, with the King of Hybern chuckling, blood everywhere. Her power hadn't been enough to save them that day. She supposed she'd been punishing it for failing her every since, keeping it locked up tight inside her. Feyre said, 'Because you're my sister.' 'Yes, and you're always sacrificing for us, your sad little human family-”

DepressionTraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesStrugglingLashing Out
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“I came here a great deal in those weeks after Under the Mountain.' My throat tightened as I leaned in to brush a kiss to his cheek. 'Thank you for sharing this place with me.' 'It belongs to you, too, now.' And I knew he meant not just in terms of us being mates, but... in the ways it belonged to the other females here. Who had endured and survived. I gave him a half smile. 'I suppose it's a miracle that I can even stand to be underground.' But his features remained solemn, contemplative. 'It is.' He added softly. 'I'm very proud of you.' My eyes burned, and I blinked as I faced the books. 'And I suppose,' I said with an effort at lightness, 'that it's a miracle I can actually read these things.' Rhys's answering smile was lovely- and just a bit wicked. 'I believe my little lessons helped.' 'Yes, "Rhys is the greatest lover a female can hope for" is undoubtedly how I learned to read.' 'I was only trying to tell you what you now know.”

FunnyProudTraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Wings And RuinSurvivors
Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“And maybe I was exhausted and broken, but I breathed, 'I killed them.' I hadn't said the words aloud since it had happened. Cassian's lips tightened. 'I know.' Not condemnation, not praise. But grim understanding. My hands slackened as another shuddering sob worked its way through me. 'It should have been me.' And there it was. Standing there under the cloudless sky, the winter sun beating on my head, nothing around me save for rock, no shadows in which to hide, nothing to cling to... There it was. Then darkness swept in, soothing, gentle darkness- no, shade- and a sweat-slicked male body halted before me. Gentle fingers lifted my chin until I looked up... at Rhysand's face. His wings had wrapped around us, cocooned us, the sunlight casting the membrane in gold and red. Beyond us, outside, in another world, maybe, the sound of steel on steel- Cassian and Azriel sparring- began. 'You will feel that way every day for the rest of your life,' Rhysand said. This close, I could smell the sweat on him the sea-and-citrus sent beneath it. His eyes were soft. I tried to look away, but he held my chin firm. 'And I know this because I have felt that way every day since my mother and sister were slaughtered and I had to bury them myself, and even retribution didn't fix it.' He wiped away the tears on one cheek, then another. 'You can either let it wreck you, let it get you killed like it nearly did with the Weaver, or you can learn to live with it.' For a long moment, I just stared at the open, calm face- maybe his true face, the one beneath all the masks he wore to keep his people safe. 'I'm sorry- about your family,' I rasped. 'I'm sorry I didn't find a way to spare you from what happened Under the Mountain,' Rhys said with equal quiet. 'From dying. From wanting to die.' I began to shake my head, but he said, 'I have two kinds of nightmares: the one when I'm again Amarantha's whore or my friends are... And the ones where I hear your neck snap and see the light leave your eyes.' I had no answer to that- to the tenor in his rich, deep voice. So I examined the tattoos on his chest and arms, the glow of his tan skin, so golden now that he was no longer caged inside that mountain. I stopped my perusal when I got to the vee of muscles that flowed beneath the waist of his leather pants.”

TraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronCryingRhysandRhysComfortingA Court Of Mist And FuryCassian
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Feyre,' he said, his voice hoarse. As if he'd been screaming. 'Yes,' I said. He studied my face- the taloned hand at my throat. And released me immediately. I lay there, staring up at where he now knelt on the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. My traitorous eyes indeed dared to look lower than his chest- but my attention snagged on the twin tattoos on each of his knees: a towering mountain crowned by three stars. Beautiful- but brutal, somehow. 'You were having a nightmare,' I said, easing into a sitting position. Like some dam had been cracked open inside me, I glanced at my hand- and willed it to vanish into shadow. It did. Half a thought scattered the darkness again. His hands, however, still ended in long, black talons- and his feet... they ended in claws, too. The wings were out, slumped down behind him. And I wondered how close he'd been to fully shifting into that beast he'd once told me he hated. He lowered his hands, talons fading into fingers. 'I'm sorry.' 'That's why you're staying here, not at the House. You don't want others seeing this.' 'I normally keep it contained to my room. I'm sorry it woke you.' I fisted my hands in my lap to keep from touching him. 'How often does it happen?' Rhys's violet eyes met mine, and I knew the answer before he said, 'As often as you.' I swallowed hard. 'What did you dream of tonight?' He shook his head, looking toward the window- to where snow had dusted the nearby rooftops. 'There are memories from Under the Mountain, Feyre, that are best left unshared. Even with you.' He'd shared enough horrific things with me that they had to be... beyond nightmares, then. But I put a hand on his elbow, naked body and all. 'When you want to talk, let me know. I won't tell the others.' I made to slither off the bed, but he grabbed my hand, keeping it against his arm. 'Thank you.' I studied the hand, the ravaged face. Such pain lingered there- and exhaustion. The face he never let anyone see. I pushed up onto my knees and kissed his cheek, his skin warm and soft beneath my mouth. It was over before it started, but- but how many nights had I wanted someone to do the same for me? His eyes were a bit wide as I pulled away, and he didn't stop me as I eased off the bed. I was almost out the door when I turned back to him. Rhys still knelt, wings drooping across the white sheets, head bowed, his tattoos stark against his golden skin. A dark, fallen prince.”

TraumaSarah J MaasNightmareFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysSupportiveA Court Of Mist And FuryHaunted
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“What's wrong?' His wings were nowhere to be seen, not even the shadow of them. 'I'm debating asking you to stay tomorrow.' I crossed my arms. 'I thought I was going.' Don't lock me up in this house, don't shove me aside- He ran a hand through his hair. 'What I ahve to be tomorrow, who I have to become, is not... it's not something I want you to see. How I will treat you, treat others...' 'The mask of the High Lord,' I said quietly. 'Yes.' He took a seat on the bottom step of the stairs. I remained in the centre of the foyer as I asked carefully. 'Why don't you want me to see that?' 'Because you've only started to look at me like I'm not a monster, and I can't stomach the idea of anything you see tomorrow, being beneath the mountain, putting you back into that place where I found you.' Beneath the mountain- underground. Yes, I'd forgotten that. Forgotten I'd see the court Amarantha had modelled her own after, that I'd be trapped beneath the earth... But with Cassian and Azriel, and Mor. With... him. I waited for the panic, the cold sweat. Neither came. 'Let me help. In whatever way I can.' Blackness shaded the starlight in those eyes. 'The role you will have to play is not a pleasant one.' 'I trust you,' I sat beside him on the stairs, close enough that the heat of his body warmed the chill night air clinging to my overcoat.”

TraumaSarah J MaasWorriedFeyreFeyre ArcheronContemplatingRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryDebating
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Tamlin- Tamlin, I can't... I can't live my life with guards around me day and night. I can't live like that... suffocation. Just let me help you- let me work with you.' 'You've given enough, Feyre.' 'I know. But...' I faced him. Met his stare- the full power of the High Lord of the Spring Court. 'I'm harder to kill now. I'm faster, stronger-' 'My family were faster and stronger than you. And they were murdered quite easily.' 'Then marry someone who can put up with this.' He blinked. Slowly. Then he said with terrible softness. 'Do you not want to marry me, then?' I tried not to look at the ring on my finger, at the emerald. 'Of course I do. Of course I do.' My voice broke. 'But you... Tamlin...' The walls pushed in on me. The quiet, the guards, the stares. What I'd seen at the Tithe today. 'I'm drowning,' I managed to say. 'I am drowning. And the more you do this, the more guards... You might as well be shoving my head under the water.' Nothing in those eyes, that face. But then- I cried out, instinct taking over as his power blasted through the room. The windows shattered. The furniture splintered. And that box of paints and brushes and paper... It exploded into dust and glass and wood.”

TraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronDrowningA Court Of Mist And FuryTamlinOpening UpStruggling
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“One breath, the study was intact. The next, it was shards of nothing, a shell of a room. None of it had touched me from where I had dropped to the floor, my hands over my head. Tamlin was panting, the ragged breaths almost like sobs. I was shaking- shaking so hard I thought my bones would splinter as the furniture had- but I made myself lower my arms and look at him. That was devastation on that face. And pain. And fear. And grief. Around me, no debris had fallen- as if he had shielded me. Tamlin took a step toward me, over that invisible demarcation. He recoiled as if he'd hit something solid. 'Feyre,,' he rasped. He stepped again- and that line held. 'Feyre, please,' he breathed. And I realised that the line, that bubble of protection... It was from me. A shield. Not just a mental one- but a physical one, too. ... 'Feyre,' Tamlin groaned a third time, pushing a hand against what indeed looked like an invisible, curved wall of hardened air. 'Please. Please.' Those words cracked something in me. Cracked me open. Perhaps they cracked that shield of solid wind as well, for his hand shot through it. Then he stepped over that line between chaos and order, danger and safety. He dropped to his knees, taking my face in his hands. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.' I couldn't stop trembling. 'I'll try,' he breathed. 'I'll try to be better. I don't... I can't control it sometimes. The rage. Today was just... today was bad. With the Tithe, with all of it. Today- let's forget it, let's just move past it. Please.' I didn't fight as he slid his arms around me, tucking me in tightly enough that his warmth soaked through me. He buried his face in my neck and said onto my nape, as if the words would be absorbed by my body, as if he could only say it the way we'd always been good at communicating- skin to skin, 'I couldn't save you before. I couldn't protect you from them. And when you said that, about... about me drowning you... Am I any better than they were?' I should have told him it wasn't true, but... I had spoken with my heart. Or what was left of it. 'I'll try to be better,' he said again. 'Please- give me more time. Let me... let me get through this. Please.' Get through what? I wanted to ask. But words had abandoned me. I realised I hadn't spoken yet. Realised he was waiting for an answer- and that I didn't have one. So I put my arms around him, because body to body was the only way I could speak, too. It was answer enough. 'I'm sorry,' he said again. He didn't stop murmuring it for minutes. You've given enough, Feyre. Perhaps he was right. And perhaps I didn't have anything left to give, anyway. I looked over his shoulder as I held him. The red paint had splattered on the wall behind us. And as I watched it slide down the cracked wood panelling, I thought it looked like blood.”

MagicTraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Mist And FuryApologisingIm Sorry
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I awoke each night, shaking and panting. And became glad when Tamlin wasn't there to witness it. When I, too, didn't witness him being yanked from his dreams, cold sweating coating his body. Or shifting into that beast, and staying awake until dawn, monitoring the estate for threats. What could I say to calm those fears, when I was the source of so many of them?”

TraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronPtsdA Court Of Mist And FuryTamlinNightmaresNot Knowing How To Help
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Feyre,' he said, reaching for me, but I stepped out of range. 'Why do you need to know these things? Is it not enough for you to recover in peace? You earned that for yourself. You earned it. I relaxed the number of sentries here; I've been trying... trying to be better about it. So leave the rest of it-' He took a steadying breath. 'This isn't the time for this conversation.' It was never the time for this conversation, or that conversation. But I didn't say it. I didn't have the energy to say it, and the words dried up and blew away. So I memorised the lines of Tamlin's face, and didn't fight him as he pulled me to his chest and held me tightly.”

TryingTraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Mist And FuryTamlinConversationsCondescendingNever The Time
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Tired. I was so- tired. When we were almost to the table, Rhys said, 'I felt a spike of fear this month through our lovely bond. Anything exciting happen at the wondrous Spring Court?' 'It was nothing,' I said. Because it was. And it was none of his business. I glanced sidelong at him- and rage, not worry- flicked in those eyes. I could have sworn the mountain beneath us trembled in response. 'If you know,' I said coldly, 'why even ask about it?' I dropped into my chair as he slid into his. He said quietly, 'Because these days, all I hear through the bond is nothing. Silence. Even with your shields up rather impressively most of the time, I should be able to feel you. And yet I don't. Sometimes I'll tug on the bond only to make sure you're still alive.' Darkness guttered. 'And then one day, I'm in the middle of an important meeting when terror blasts through the bond. All I get are glimpses of you and him- and then nothing. Back to silence. I'd like to know what caused such a disruption.' I served myself from the platters of food, barely caring what had been laid on the table. 'It was an argument, and the rest is none of your concern.' 'Is it why you look like grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit?”

WorryTiredTraumaRageSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And Fury
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“The bond between us went taut, and my lingering mental shields collapsed. And for a heartbeat, just as it had happened Under the Mountain, I flashed from my body to his- from my eyes to his own. I had not realised... how I looked... My face was gaunt, my cheekbones sharp, my blue-grey eyes dull and smudged with purple beneath. The full lips- my father's mouth- were wan, and my collarbones jutted above the thick wool neckline of my sweater. I looked as if... as if rage and grief and despair had eaten me alive, as if I was again starved. Not for food, but... but for joy and life-”

MagicDepressionTraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryGaunt
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I lifted the book, firing two words down the bond between us before I blasted my shields up again. Conversation over. 'Like hell it is,' he snarled. A thrum of power caressed my fingers, and then the book sealed shut between my hands. My nails dug into the leather and paper- to no avail. Bastard. Arrogant, presuming bastard. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to him. And I felt... not hot temper- but icy, glittering rage. I could almost feel that ice at my fingertips, kissing my palms. And I swore there was frost coating the book before I hurled it at his head. He shielded fast enough that it bounced away and slid across the marble floor behind us. 'Good,' he said, his breathing a bit uneven. 'What else do you have, Feyre?' Ice melted to flame, and my fingers curled into fists. And the High Lord of the Night Court honestly looked relieved at the sight of it- of that wrath that made me want to rage and burn. A feeling, for once. Not like that hollow cold and silence. And the thought of returning to that manor with the sentries and the patrols and the secrets... I sank back into my chair. Frozen once more. 'Any time you need someone to play with,' Rhys said, pushing the plate toward me on a star-flecked wind, 'whether it's during our marvellous week together or otherwise, you let me know.' I couldn't muster up a response, exhausted from the bit of temper I'd shown. And I realised I was in a free fall with no end. I had been for a while. From the moment I'd stabbed that Fae youth in the heart.”

MagicTraumaRageSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryRelieved
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I made you an offer when you first came here: help me, and food, shelter, clothing... All of it is yours.' I'd been a beggar in the past. The thought of doing it now... 'Work for me,' Rhysand said. 'I owe you, anyway. And we'll figure out the rest day by day, if need be.' I looked toward the mountains, as if I could see all the way to the Spring Court in the south. Tamlin would be furious. He'd shred the manor apart. But he'd... he'd locked me up. Either he so deeply misunderstood me or he'd been so broken by what went on Under the Mountain, but... he'd locked me up. 'I'm not going back.' The words rang in me like a death knell. 'Not- not until I figure things out.' I shoved against the wall of anger and sorrow and outright despair as my thumb brushed over the vacant band of skin where that ring had once sat. One day at a time. Maybe- maybe Tamlin would come around. Heal himself, that jagged wound of festering fear. Maybe I'd sort myself out. I didn't know. But I did know that if I stayed in that manor, if I was locked up one more time... It might finish the breaking that Amarantha had started. Rhysand summoned a mug of hot tea from nowhere and handed it to me. 'Drink it.' I took the mug, letting its warmth soak into my stiff fingers. He watched me until I took a sip, and then went back to monitoring the mountains. I took another sip- peppermint and... liquorice and another herb or spice. I wasn't going back. Maybe I'd never even... gotten to come back. Not from Under the Mountain.”

TraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryTamlinLocked UpNot Going Back
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I listened to the crackling fire, the chirp of birds in the garden's potted evergreens- so different from the spring-sweet melodies I was used to. That I might never hear or be able to endure again. Maybe Amarantha had won after all. And some strange, new part of me wondered if my never returning might be a fitting punishment for him. For what he had done to me.”

ListeningAbuseTraumaPunishmentSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Mist And FuryBirdsBirdsong
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Then Nesta asked, 'Your High Lord... You went through all that' -she waved a hand at me, my ears, my body- 'and it still did not end well?' I was heavy in my veins again. 'That lord built a wall to keep the Fae out. My High Lord wanted to keep me caged in.' 'Why? He let you come back here all those months ago.' 'To save me- protect me. And I think... I think what happened to him, to us, Under the Mountain broke him,' Perhaps more than it had broken me. 'The drive to protect at all costs, even my own wellbeing... I think he wanted to stifle it, but he couldn't. He couldn't let go of it.' There was... there was much I still had to do, I realised. To settle things. Settle myself.”

TraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Mist And FuryNesta ArcheronTamlinHigh LordStifleCaged In
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“...sometimes I wondered if I heard his breath catch, only for a heartbeat. I never had the nerve to ask if he was awake. He never woke when the nightmares dragged me from sleep; never woke when I vomited my guts up night after night. If he knew of heard, he said nothing about it. I knew similar dreams chased him from slumber as often as I fled from mine. The first time it happened, I'd awoken- tried to speak to him. But he'd shaken off my touch, his skin clammy, and had shifted into that beast of fur and claws and horns and fangs. He'd spent the rest of the night sprawled across the foot of the bed, monitoring the door, the wall of windows. He'd since spent many nights like that.”

TraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Mist And FuryTamlinNightmaresVomitingIgnoringUnable To Talk
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Alis coughed from the shadows of the house, and I remembered to start walking, to look toward the dais- At Tamlin. The breath knocked from me, and it was an effort to keep going down the stairs, to keep going my knees from buckling. He was resplendent in a tunic of green and gold, a crown of burnished laurel leaves gleaming on his head. He'd loosened the grip on his glamour, letting that immortal light and beauty shine through- for me. My vision narrowed on him, on my High Lord, his wide eyes glistening as I stepped onto the soft grass, white rose petals scattered down it- And Red ones. Like drops of blood amongst the white, red petals had been sprayed across the path ahead. I forced my gaze up, to Tamlin, his shoulders back, head high. So unaware of the true extent of how broken and dark I was inside. How unfit I was to be clothed in white when my hands were so filthy. Everyone else was thinking it. They had to be. Every step was too fast, propelling me toward the dais and Tamlin. And toward Ianthe, clothed in dark blue robes tonight, beaming beneath the hood and silver crown. As if I were good- as if I hadn't murdered two of their kind. I was a murderer and a liar. A cluster of red petals loomed ahead- just like the Fae youth's blood had pooled at my feet. Ten steps from the dais, at the edge of that splatter of red, I slowed. Then stopped. Everyone was watching, exactly as they had when I'd nearly died, spectators to my torment. Tamlin extended a broad hand, brows narrowing slightly. My heart beat so fast, too fast. I was going to vomit. Right over those rose petals, right over the grass and ribbons trailing into the ailse from the chairs flanking it. And between my skin and bones, something thrummed and pounded, rising and pushing, lashing through my blood- So many eyes, too many eyes, pressed on me, witness to every crime I'd committed, every humiliation- I don't know why I'd even bothered to wear gloves, why I'd let Ianthe convince me. The fading sun was too hot, the garden too hedged in. As inescapable as the vow I was about to make, binding me to him forever, shackling him to my broken and weary soul. The thing inside me was roiling now, my body shaking with the building force of it as it hunted for a way out- Forever- I would never get better, never get free of myself, of the dungeon where I'd spent three months- 'Feyre,' Tamlin said, his hand steady, as he continued to reach for mine. The sun sank past the lip of the western garden wall; shadows pooled, chilling the air. If I turned away, they'd start talking, but I couldn't make the last few steps, couldn't, couldn't, couldn't- I was going to fall apart, right there, right then- and they'd see precisely how ruined I was. Help me, help me, help me, I begged someone, anyone. Begged Lucien, standing in the front row, his metal eye fixed on me. Begged Ianthe, face serene and patient and lovely within that hood. Save me- please, save me. Get me out. End this. Tamlin took a step toward me- concern shading those eyes. I retreated a step. No. Tamlin's mouth tightened. The crowd murmured. Silk streamers laden with globes of gold faelight twinkled into life above and around us. Ianthe said smoothly. 'Come, Bride and be joined with your true love. Come, Bride, and let good triumph at last.' Good. I was not good. I was nothing, and my soul, my eternal soul was damned- I tried to get my traitorous lungs to draw air so I could voice a word. No- no. But I didn't have to say it. Thunder crackled behind me, as if two boulders have been hurled against each other. People screamed, falling back, a few vanishing outright as darkness erupted. I whirled, and through the night drifting away like smoke on a wind, I found Rhysand straightening the lapels of his black jacket. 'Hello, Feyre darkling,' he purred.”

TraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronWeddingRhysandA Court Of Mist And FuryTamlinLucienCold Feet
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Hands- there were hands on my shoulders, shaking me, squeezing me. I thrashed against them, screaming, screaming- 'FEYRE.' The voice was at once the night and the dawn and the stars and the earth, and every inch of my body calmed at the primal dominance in it. 'Open your eyes,' the voice ordered. I did. My throat was raw, my mouth full of ash, my face soaked and sticky, and Rhysand- Rhysand was hovering above me, his eyes wide. 'It was a dream,' he said, his breathing as hard as mine. The moonlight trickling through the windows illuminated the dark lines of swirling tattoos down his arm, his shoulders, across his sculpted chest. Like the ones I bore on my arm. He scanned my face. 'A dream,' he said again. Velaris. I was in Velaris, at his house. And I had- my dream- The sheets, the blankets were ripped. Shredded. But not with a knife. And that ashy, smoky taste coating my mouth... My hand was unnervingly steady as I lifted it to find my fingers ending in simmering embers. Living claws of flame that had sliced through my bed linens like they were cauterising wounds-”

DreamTraumaSarah J MaasNightmareFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysPtsdA Court Of Mist And Fury
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I have this dream,' Rhys said as I retched again, holding my hair. 'Where it's not me stuck under her, but Cassian or Azriel. And she's pinned their wings to the bed with spikes, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. She's commanded me to watch, and I have no choice but to see how I failed them.' ... His fingers were gentle, but firm where he'd fisted them in my hair. 'You never failed them,' I rasped. 'I did... horrible things to ensure that.' Those violet eyes near-glowed in the dim light.' 'So did I.' My sweat clung like blood- the blood of those two faeries- I pivoted, barely turning in time. His other hand stroked long soothing lines down the curve of my back, as over and over I yielded my dinner.”

DreamTraumaSarah J MaasNightmareFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysPtsdA Court Of Mist And Fury
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“It helps the panic,' he said quietly, 'to remind myself that I got out. That we all got out.' 'Barely.' I tried to breathe. I couldn't, I couldn't- 'We got out. And it might happen again if we don't go inside.' The chill mist bit at my face. And I tried- I did- to take a step toward it. My body refused to obey. I tried to take a step again; I tried for Elain and Nesta and the human world that might be wrecked, but... I couldn't. 'Please,' I whispered. I didn't care if it meant that I'd failed my first day of work. Rhysand, as promised, didn't ask questions as he gripped my hand and brought us back to the winter sun and rich colours of Velaris.”

TryingTraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysPtsdA Court Of Mist And FuryPanicking
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Type II trauma also often occurs within a closed context - such as a family, a religious group, a workplace, a chain of command, or a battle group - usually perpetrated by someone related or known to the victim. As such, it often involves fundamental betrayal of the relationship between the victim and the perpetrator and within the community (Freyd, 1994). It may also involve the betrayal of a particular role and the responsibility associated with the relationship (i.e., parent-child, family member-child, therapist-client, teacher-student, clergy-child/adult congregant, supervisor-employee, military officer-enlisted man or woman). Relational dynamics of this sort have the effect of further complicating the victim's survival adaptations, especially when a superficially caring, loving or seductive relationship is cultivated with the victim (e.g., by an adult mentor such as a priest, coach, or teacher; by an adult who offers a child special favors for compliance; by a superior who acts as a protector or who can offer special favors and career advancement). In a process labelled "selection and grooming", potential abusers seek out as potential victims those who appear insecure, are needy and without resources, and are isolated from others or are obviously neglected by caregivers or those who are in crisis or distress for which they are seeking assistance. This status is then used against the victim to seduce, coerce, and exploit. Such a scenario can lead to trauma bonding between victim and perpetrator (i.e., the development of an attachment bond based on the traumatic relationship and the physical and social contact), creating additional distress and confusion for the victim who takes on the responsibility and guilt for what transpired, often with the encouragement or insinuation of the perpetrator(s) to do so.”

AbuseVictimTraumaManipulationPerpetratorPower Abuse
Author:Christine A. Courtois
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“...some patients resist the diagnosis of a post-traumatic disorder. They may feel stigmatized by any psychiatric diagnosis or wish to deny their condition out of a sense of pride. Some people feel that acknowledging psychological harm grants a moral victory to the perpetrator, in a way that acknowledging physical harm does not.”

HealingPridePrejudiceMental HealthDefeatTraumaMental IllnessRecoveryDenialTherapyDefeatedPtsdStigmaAbuse SurvivorsPsychotherapyPowerlessnessTraumatic ExperiencesLabelingMental Health StigmaMental DisorderPost Traumatic Stress DisorderHealing From AbusePosttraumatic Stress DisorderTorturedSelf StigmaLabellingTorture SurvivorsMale SurvivorPolitical Refugees
Book:Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence - From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror
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“July 15, 1991 Nita: My mother was a paragon of our neighborhood, People always come up to us with hugs, saying "You have the most wonderful mother." l'd think. “Don't you see what's going on in this house?” To this day, if somehow even in jest raises their hand to me, I will do this (raises hands to protect face and cowers) I cringe. Then they look at me like, what's your probem? You don't get that from a great childhood.”

TraumaPtsdTraumatizedPost Traumatic Stress DisorderPosttraumatic Stress DisorderDefensiveTraumatic StressOverreactionTrauma SurvivorHypervigilanceJumpyOverreact
Book:Becoming One: A Story of Triumph Over Dissociative Identity Disorder
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“By the time Cheryl Hersha came to the facility, knowledge of multiple personality was so complete that doctors understood how the mind separated into distinct ego states, each unaware of the other. First, the person traumatized had to be both extremely intelligent and under the age of seven, two conditions not yet understood though remaining consistent as factors. The trauma was almost always of a sexual nature… (p52)”

AbuseTraumaTortureSexual AbuseDissociationMind ControlMultiplicityChildhood TraumaRitual AbuseGovernment CorruptionChildhood AbusePersonalitiesHuman Rights ViolationsMpdGovernment Cover UpsMkultraHuman Rights AbuseMonarchMk UltraSexual Torture
Book:Secret Weapons: How Two Sisters Were Brainwashed to Kill for Their Country
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