Dismay, humility, sorrow: a reckoning with Stockholm Syndrome.

A raw and vulnerable share about things that are hard to remember.

Content note my friends: I’m talking about abuse here. It’s not going to be pretty and might be hard to read. Please feel free to excuse yourself if you’re not in a place to take that in. Take care of you <3

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To begin this essay about my experience with every item on the list of Stockholm Syndrome symptoms, I googled “astonished in a bad way synonyms”. Because I don’t know exactly how to describe the feeling I’ve had while recounting this experience.

I’m writing to you today about a subject I’m far more acquainted with through feeling and far less able to explain in words. But here I go; I will try.

I experienced what someone could label Stockholm Syndrome from ages 15-17. I was in love with my abuser.

self portrait I posted at age 15 on flickr. caption read “when you’re too in love to let it go. no. please excuse me, I don’t feel well”.

Sorry for the paywall, y’all, but this is one of the most raw and vulnerable things I’ve ever written. You can keep reading by subscribing to a paid subscription below, or through a 1 week free trial. Thanks for understanding.