MarvinTheParanoidAndroid
This will all end in tears, I just know it.
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2015
It's the logic of trying to poison the idea of sexy women for you by replacing it with a family member's genitals.
What's the most traumatic experience you've ever had? - Creepy uncles, bullying and bad accidents
- Thread starter Monika H.
- Start date
It's the logic of trying to poison the idea of sexy women for you by replacing it with a family member's genitals.
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2018
Well, he fucking HATED all the workers at this McDonalds a few blocks away.
He called them all "Fat fucking idiots trapped in a prison of fat." and took pride in the fact that he worked at a Subway.
He was clearly jealous of everyone like you said; he wasn't anywhere close to a fat acceptance nut, I'll give him that.
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2017
Thankfully she just showed me her breasts, but she was very psychotic when she did it.
MarvinTheParanoidAndroid
This will all end in tears, I just know it.
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2015
Flashing her the inverted twin-bird cross would've been appropriate.
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2015
Watching my dad suffer from oesophagal cancer. And then seeing him dead one morning. Watching my mother fall apart over it; cowering when she lashed out at me and my brother.
Yeah, we couldn've been more helpful; we could've appeared more affected by his death. But did you really have to chuck my phone at me, back me into a corner and call me an "arrogant little pisshole" because I said I forgive you when you apologized for taking your grief out on us? What the fuck did you want me to say?
Yeah, we couldn've been more helpful; we could've appeared more affected by his death. But did you really have to chuck my phone at me, back me into a corner and call me an "arrogant little pisshole" because I said I forgive you when you apologized for taking your grief out on us? What the fuck did you want me to say?
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2014
Many years ago an old friend of mine died in a car accident. That morning I was planning on calling him to just say hi, but I didn't. To this day I still believe that had I called him and disrupted his day by just 5-10 minutes he would still be alive today.
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2014
Getting doxed after I massively powerleveled in a honeypot thread.
Oh wait, I haven't done that. Yet.
Bitch I once pulled a piece of wood out of a firewood stack and it was half black widows and they all jumped right onto my arm and I freaked out. But I didn't smack them. Just shake your arm a lot and they jump off. Seriously, black widows do not bite you unless you practically force them to.
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2018
The time when my mother got into a workplace accident involving those hospital strollers. It severed her spine to the point where she had to go into extensive surgery to fix it. At the time I never thought about it, but my dad told me after she had her surgery that she was actually in legitimate risk of dying during surgery. She's fine, but having that in mind made me extremely paranoid of her overextending herself to where she hurts herself, much less drive by herself. Scary shit.
There's also when I was frequently abused by my therapists when I was younger — something my parents didn't know at the time. There were only a few instances in which the abuse became physically, but it was mostly mentally / psychologically. They were very, very fucking anal-retentive about me achieving perfectly on everything to where they'd accuse me of shit and sometimes hit me if I didn't do well enough on what I was 'supposed' to get done. My parents found out when they saw the marks on my arms, but it messed me up to this day.
- Joined
- Jan 12, 2018
That's horrible. I don't want to sound cinic, but that would have been enough to warrant a lawsuit, if not a criminal indictment.
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2018
My parents only managed to sue them for a pretty penny, but it's the closest we got to justice. so...
I was just happy that I was away from those fuckers lmao.
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2014
That's pretty fucked up. I loved getting sent to therapists as a kid because they were more interesting than the dumbass teachers. I eventually started doing fucked up shit just to get that one on one attention.
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2016
while i think many people have all sorts of trauma, and can cope with a lot of it with time and assistance of good people, some things will always stick with you. i've encountered more than one person though that calls out others with some kind of personal trauma as whiners or mentally ill or that they're exaggerating or they just need to "man up" or "deal with it like an adult".
the two stand out moments (well one was longer than a moment) for me was finishing high school and enlisting with a half dozen of my friends. we were mostly on the poorer side of middle class, and with expenses on the rise where we lived we knew that even with a scholarship, we couldn't afford to complete college. working part time and attending courses sucks, and after my enlistment i did that and glad i waited until then to do it - as an 18/19 year old i don't think i would have coped too well financially or academically.
a couple of my friends went into different branches, i joined the Army. one of my very good friends (not quite best friend) joined the Air Force. we kept in touch rarely, mostly busy doing military things.
it was during my time in Iraq where moment #1 hit me and it's stayed with me in multiple ways. it was OIF 1, during the push into Baghdad for the Airport. about 2 days into the fighting were were moving northward towards Karbala to support Airborne elements already in the fight. during dismount from our vehicles were were mortared. now, at that point were were constantly getting pot shots or sporadic engagements, meeting with surrendering enemies and capturing abandoned gear, et c. mortars were part of that as well as random RPG fire and none of it was close enough to worry about.
some guy that day finally figured out his trig and started sending reasonably accurate fire on our position. i won't get into the further details of it, but about 12 meters away, while i was pulling myself and another soldier into cover, i watched a man i had trade food and jokes with, bullshit with in vehicles and on patrol with, get destroyed by mortar shrapnel. completely shredded the clothing, but what killed him was shrapnel to the face, neck and legs; and concussive damage that knocked him down and out. by the time we had reorganized a minute later he was gone already - he was just too close to the blast.
that fucked me up enough that i don't fully remember the rest of the engagement other than just going through the motions.
moment #2 was when i finally made it back home and learned that out of my group of friends, only one other made it back home alive.
i don't think i have any lasting trauma about it, no PTSD or anything other than some old injuries and the memories of it all, but sometimes it hits you when you're half expecting an in-joke or something and there's just silence.
a couple of my friends went into different branches, i joined the Army. one of my very good friends (not quite best friend) joined the Air Force. we kept in touch rarely, mostly busy doing military things.
it was during my time in Iraq where moment #1 hit me and it's stayed with me in multiple ways. it was OIF 1, during the push into Baghdad for the Airport. about 2 days into the fighting were were moving northward towards Karbala to support Airborne elements already in the fight. during dismount from our vehicles were were mortared. now, at that point were were constantly getting pot shots or sporadic engagements, meeting with surrendering enemies and capturing abandoned gear, et c. mortars were part of that as well as random RPG fire and none of it was close enough to worry about.
some guy that day finally figured out his trig and started sending reasonably accurate fire on our position. i won't get into the further details of it, but about 12 meters away, while i was pulling myself and another soldier into cover, i watched a man i had trade food and jokes with, bullshit with in vehicles and on patrol with, get destroyed by mortar shrapnel. completely shredded the clothing, but what killed him was shrapnel to the face, neck and legs; and concussive damage that knocked him down and out. by the time we had reorganized a minute later he was gone already - he was just too close to the blast.
that fucked me up enough that i don't fully remember the rest of the engagement other than just going through the motions.
moment #2 was when i finally made it back home and learned that out of my group of friends, only one other made it back home alive.
i don't think i have any lasting trauma about it, no PTSD or anything other than some old injuries and the memories of it all, but sometimes it hits you when you're half expecting an in-joke or something and there's just silence.
- Joined
- May 2, 2017
I'd have to say these three are on the same level:
- All the times my dad beat the shit out of me,
- When he stopped beating me and started molesting me,
- The time I was caught in the crossfire of a gang shooting and had to pretty much drive straight through it to get out of there.
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2017
I gotta say it really fucked me up when my friend committed suicide senior year. Everything felt so unreal for days and I could not function at all so my parents let me stay home for a few days. I still think about him sometimes even though it's been nearly 5 years...
- Joined
- May 31, 2016
Probably a couple years ago when my mom was going in and out of the hospital with severe pancreatitus and kidney failure. She was so miserable she forced that doctors to let her go home, what they didn't do right though was give her a days worth of painkillers when she already had some earlier that day and told them. She came home woozy as fuck and went to bed. I woke up and couldn't get her to so I figured I should let her sleep as she was snoring super loud as usual. I went to my room and played minecraft for a couple of hours, and went back to check on her because she usually never slept this long. I kept shaking her but nothing worked, and then I noticed her fingers were purple. She died at the hospital a day later, apparently she had so much pain medication that she aspirated in her sleep. I had to pull the plug for her, and even though they said she was brain dead; she looked around horrified when they pulled the plug. I held her hand during but I think it hurts most that she was looking at the nurses and not me when she died.
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- Joined
- Nov 13, 2016
I watched a pedestrian get hit by a car in a crosswalk. It was on an army base during lunch and all the soldiers had released for chow. On a military base, pedestrians have the right of way so it was pretty much standstill traffic while the soldiers streamed across the street.
The lane next to me opened up just after a big pack of guys passed, but there was one straggler. I saw it happen before it actually did and I couldn’t stop it.
An impatient driver five cars back whipped into the empty left lane and GUNNED it, hoping to whip back over into the right lane before the left lane terminated into a left turn. I saw him whip around in my side mirror as the straggler hit the center median and I tried to pull into the left lane to stop him but he went around me, giving me the middle finger salute.
I was screaming “NO!”and honking my horn to get his attention but he was too important and in too much of a rush to get to his most important destination.
The pedestrian saw him coming and tried to sprint out of his way, but the car caught him almost dead center on the hood. It is so cliched when people say things happened in slow motion but it’s like everything went into super slow mode.
I watched the guy windmill up into the air, showering the contents of his pockets as he flipped upside down, his sunglasses came off his face and bounced onto the roof of his car right before he came down on them. He sort of crumpled onto the roof in a ball before bouncing off and to the side where he landed on the ground, flat on his stomach.
I was already calling 911 and out of my car to see if he was alive. Thankfully a shitload of soldiers swarmed the area and started providing emergency medical care. I stuck around to give a statement to the MPs.
I overheard the driver giving his statement to the MPs and when said he wasn’t at fault, that the guy just ran into the street without looking I lost my shit. I started screaming at him and calling a lying murderer, all sorts of stuff, but thankfully enough people had stuck around and our statements all lined up. They ended up arresting the fucker.
I was shaking like a leaf for hours and ended up losing my voice because I’d screamed so hard and loud. I had nightmares for months and even now, I’ll sometimes see someone in a crosswalk and see it all happen again. I felt a lot of guilt over it. If I’d gunned over harder and faster and had him hit my car instead, I’d have gladly paid the insurance deductible.
I had to pass that cross walk every time I left my house when we lived on base. I was a nervous wreck each and every time. They did put in a flashing light and eventually fenced it off so soldiers couldn’t cross there because important people have important places to go and they’re the only ones that matter. It really stuck with me and I started driving a lot more cautiously and respectfully.
The lane next to me opened up just after a big pack of guys passed, but there was one straggler. I saw it happen before it actually did and I couldn’t stop it.
An impatient driver five cars back whipped into the empty left lane and GUNNED it, hoping to whip back over into the right lane before the left lane terminated into a left turn. I saw him whip around in my side mirror as the straggler hit the center median and I tried to pull into the left lane to stop him but he went around me, giving me the middle finger salute.
I was screaming “NO!”and honking my horn to get his attention but he was too important and in too much of a rush to get to his most important destination.
The pedestrian saw him coming and tried to sprint out of his way, but the car caught him almost dead center on the hood. It is so cliched when people say things happened in slow motion but it’s like everything went into super slow mode.
I watched the guy windmill up into the air, showering the contents of his pockets as he flipped upside down, his sunglasses came off his face and bounced onto the roof of his car right before he came down on them. He sort of crumpled onto the roof in a ball before bouncing off and to the side where he landed on the ground, flat on his stomach.
I was already calling 911 and out of my car to see if he was alive. Thankfully a shitload of soldiers swarmed the area and started providing emergency medical care. I stuck around to give a statement to the MPs.
I overheard the driver giving his statement to the MPs and when said he wasn’t at fault, that the guy just ran into the street without looking I lost my shit. I started screaming at him and calling a lying murderer, all sorts of stuff, but thankfully enough people had stuck around and our statements all lined up. They ended up arresting the fucker.
I was shaking like a leaf for hours and ended up losing my voice because I’d screamed so hard and loud. I had nightmares for months and even now, I’ll sometimes see someone in a crosswalk and see it all happen again. I felt a lot of guilt over it. If I’d gunned over harder and faster and had him hit my car instead, I’d have gladly paid the insurance deductible.
I had to pass that cross walk every time I left my house when we lived on base. I was a nervous wreck each and every time. They did put in a flashing light and eventually fenced it off so soldiers couldn’t cross there because important people have important places to go and they’re the only ones that matter. It really stuck with me and I started driving a lot more cautiously and respectfully.
I was riding in the front seat of the family station wagon with my dad one day. We were coming up to an intersection and the light changed so we stopped, first car in line.
A car in the opposite lane did not stop and turned left across the intersection in front of us so we had a close up view of the crash. Overall it wouldn’t have been too bad of a crash, they got smacked on the front drivers side fender by a pick up truck, but the mom was holding a bundle in her arms that flew out upon impact and smashed into the windshield.
It was a very young baby.
My dad yelled at me to stay in the car and ran to the crash scene. The mom was shrieking and flailing about with blood running down her face, she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and had smashed into the windshield. My dad snatched up the limp bundle from the mother and rushed to our car screaming for an observer to call 911 at a payphone and throwing change at them.
He put the bundle on the hood of our car and unwrapped it. The baby was completely limp, covered in blood, and looked dead. My dad started performing CPR on the baby.
Then the mother lost her fucking shit and started trying to push my dad away. She ended up jumping on his back, pulling his hair, biting and scratching at him while screaming incoherently. I was stuck in our family car watching this bizarre tableau in front of me, scared for my dad and scared for the baby.
A group of people pulled her off and restrained her so my dad could continue CPR. Paramedics finally arrived and took over, whisking the baby and the mom off to the hospital.
Guys use carseats. They’re expensive. They’re a pain in the ass to install. They save lives and are worth every penny and every minute of sweaty profanity to install properly. My kids were rear facing until they grew out of their seats (3 and 5), in 5-point harnesses until they grew out of those (8 and 10), and in boosters until the age of 11. I bought carseats designed by fucking race car seat builders (Recarro) and told my kids to stuff it when they complained that their friends didn’t have to sit in a car seat at the age of five.
I caught a lot of flak from a lot of people. They called me a carseat nazi. Even my dad gave me a hard time until I reminded him of that baby. He never ever said another word and actually went out and bought extra car seats to install in his cars so we wouldn’t have to move them and risk installing them incorrectly.
I will never forget that baby smacking the windshield and watching my dad perform CPR on that tiny broken form laid on the hood of our station wagon.
I only saw my dad cry a few times growing up. He got back in the car, covered in blood, and bawled like a baby with big heaving sobs. My dad was a burly biker dude that looked like he’d sooner kick your ass than lend a hand and he cried his heart out over that broken little baby.
A car in the opposite lane did not stop and turned left across the intersection in front of us so we had a close up view of the crash. Overall it wouldn’t have been too bad of a crash, they got smacked on the front drivers side fender by a pick up truck, but the mom was holding a bundle in her arms that flew out upon impact and smashed into the windshield.
It was a very young baby.
My dad yelled at me to stay in the car and ran to the crash scene. The mom was shrieking and flailing about with blood running down her face, she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and had smashed into the windshield. My dad snatched up the limp bundle from the mother and rushed to our car screaming for an observer to call 911 at a payphone and throwing change at them.
He put the bundle on the hood of our car and unwrapped it. The baby was completely limp, covered in blood, and looked dead. My dad started performing CPR on the baby.
Then the mother lost her fucking shit and started trying to push my dad away. She ended up jumping on his back, pulling his hair, biting and scratching at him while screaming incoherently. I was stuck in our family car watching this bizarre tableau in front of me, scared for my dad and scared for the baby.
A group of people pulled her off and restrained her so my dad could continue CPR. Paramedics finally arrived and took over, whisking the baby and the mom off to the hospital.
Guys use carseats. They’re expensive. They’re a pain in the ass to install. They save lives and are worth every penny and every minute of sweaty profanity to install properly. My kids were rear facing until they grew out of their seats (3 and 5), in 5-point harnesses until they grew out of those (8 and 10), and in boosters until the age of 11. I bought carseats designed by fucking race car seat builders (Recarro) and told my kids to stuff it when they complained that their friends didn’t have to sit in a car seat at the age of five.
I caught a lot of flak from a lot of people. They called me a carseat nazi. Even my dad gave me a hard time until I reminded him of that baby. He never ever said another word and actually went out and bought extra car seats to install in his cars so we wouldn’t have to move them and risk installing them incorrectly.
I will never forget that baby smacking the windshield and watching my dad perform CPR on that tiny broken form laid on the hood of our station wagon.
I only saw my dad cry a few times growing up. He got back in the car, covered in blood, and bawled like a baby with big heaving sobs. My dad was a burly biker dude that looked like he’d sooner kick your ass than lend a hand and he cried his heart out over that broken little baby.
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2015
Having a psychotic break. It's an awful thing to not know what is real and what isn't. I don't have any funny stories from it. I curled into a ball and cried a lot.
AngelOfNoMercy
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2018
Found my child turning blue and gasping for air. Had to resuscitate without any help.
- Joined
- Jul 7, 2016
My armoured personnel carrier hit a mine and was flipped on its back.
- Joined
- Jul 7, 2016
found my youngest doing the same. fucking beat the shit out of his back until the obstruction was evacuated! Scarrrry!