Fezisstuff - Fezi

Understanding and Supporting Survivors of Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA)

Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) is a controversial and often misunderstood topic that has garnered attention over the years. While skepticism surrounds the existence of organized, ritualistic abuse with satanic elements, it is essential to acknowledge and support those who identify as survivors of such experiences. This article aims to shed light on the challenges faced by individuals who claim to be SRA Survivors and the importance of providing empathy, understanding, and appropriate support.

Defining Satanic Ritual Abuse:

SRA survivors allege that they have endured extreme forms of abuse within the context of rituals involving satanic or occult practices. These rituals may include physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, as well as mind control and manipulation. It is crucial to approach these claims with sensitivity and respect, recognizing that survivors may have experienced trauma that is challenging to articulate or validate.

The Controversy Surrounding SRA:

It is important to note that the existence of SRA has been a subject of controversy, with some experts and authorities disputing the validity of these claims. Skepticism arises due to the lack of empirical evidence, the potential influence of suggestibility, and the absence of consistent patterns across survivor testimonies. While it is crucial to approach these claims critically, it is equally important to recognize the potential impact of trauma on memory recall and the complex nature of trauma-based experiences.

Challenges Faced by SRA Survivors:

Survivors of alleged Satanic Ritual Abuse often face numerous challenges, including:

Skepticism and Disbelief: Many individuals find it difficult to believe or validate the experiences of SRA survivors, contributing to feelings of isolation and alienation.

Stigmatization: The association with satanic rituals can lead to stigmatization, making it challenging for survivors to share their experiences openly without fear of judgment.

Emotional and Psychological Impact: The trauma endured in SRA experiences can have severe emotional and psychological repercussions, leading to conditions such as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), anxiety, and depression.

Recovery and Healing: Finding appropriate resources and support for recovery can be difficult, as the controversial nature of SRA may limit the availability of specialized therapeutic interventions.

Supporting SRA Survivors:

Supporting survivors of alleged Satanic Ritual Abuse requires a balanced and empathetic approach:

Listen with Empathy: Providing a non-judgmental space for survivors to share their experiences can be crucial. It is essential to listen with empathy and without imposing preconceived notions.

Encourage Professional Help: Encourage survivors to seek professional support from therapists experienced in trauma and dissociation. Specialized therapeutic approaches, such as trauma-focused therapy, can be beneficial.

Build a Support Network: Establishing a supportive network of friends, family, or support groups can help survivors feel less isolated and more understood.

Respect Autonomy: It is important to respect survivors' autonomy and decisions regarding disclosure. Pressuring survivors to disclose or doubting their experiences can be re-traumatizing.

Conclusion:

While the controversy surrounding Satanic Ritual Abuse persists, it is essential to approach the topic with sensitivity and empathy. Regardless of the veracity of specific claims, acknowledging the existence of trauma and supporting survivors on their healing journey is a critical step toward fostering a compassionate and understanding society. Providing resources, listening without judgment, and advocating for mental health support are essential components of creating a supportive environment for those who identify as SRA Survivors.

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fezisstuff

2 years ago

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

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fezisstuff

2 years ago

x Reader Fics

"You belong to me"

"Pet"

"Slave"

"Creature"

"I own you"

Me: *Stares in nigga*

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fezisstuff

10 months ago

🚨CALL FOR HUMANITY DO NOT IGNORE YOU CAN SAVE A CHILD'S LIFE‼️

I have lost more than 30 members of my family.I don't want to lose anyone else .All I have left is Lolo, the only survivor. I do not know what her future will be like without her father and her life as an orphan. Please, any amount will save the rest of my family.Please help my family survive these massacres & this war.The crossing will open at any moment.I have to register my family to travel. There's not much time

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Nesma and her family evacuate, organized by Mena K

Nesma Ahmed is raising funds to help her family evacuate from Gaza. Currently, Gaza has been… Mena K needs your support for Help Nesma and h

@appsa @buttercuparry @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @sayruq @megalo-station

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fezisstuff

9 months ago

Mitski - My love mine all mine

Comfort fic with Mihawk?

Pretty plz oh my sister of mine

(Add smut if you must-but you’re really pulling my arm)

Comfort fic, you say? You get some angst too, sis.

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 1,178

Warnings: angst, longing, fluff, sleeping, embracing (no smut)

Song Suggestion: Mitsuki - My Love Mine all Mine.

Nothing in the world belongs to me // But my love mine, all mine // Nothing in the world is mine for free // But my love mine, all mine, all mine

The halls in the great castle had naught a sound resounding in the chasms. The polished cobblestone lay bare and cold, the warm light of the crystalline chandelier reflecting its small flames atop the surfaces. The darkness from nightfall glistened starlight through the stained glass windows; the moon cascading it’s crescent shape on one of the many portraits that hung high and out of sight within the room.

He had been gone for two weeks, his presence not gracing the ornate floorboards with his silhouette for nine days longer than he promised. He thought the contract would be over swiftly, the great blade Yoru able to cut through anything with one fell, booming swipe. His cloak was dishevelled, his cross was laying slightly askew atop his bare chest. The large, fluffed, white feather in his broad hat was slightly singed around the edges, tanning under the scorch marks to tint it a smoked yellow. It did not go at all according to his plan: get in, get it done, get it over with, and get back to you.

The individual he was stalking had managed to raise an army, something the world government did not anticipate him having such sway nor ability to execute. He was to be brought in alive for questioning, his bounty nullified should he perish below a blade. Dracule Mihawk was tasked with not only capturing this person alive, but also ridding the amassment of pirates that had so readily come to his defence. It took him nine days of combat; never resting, always pushing to get to his target. He was exhausted, his energy resources depleted completely.

As he stalked slowly along the grounds, his staff would turn and halt their movements and chores; offering a swift stoop at acknowledgement of his presence. Mihawk’s shoulders were slumped, hunching down from his great posture as he reached your shared bedroom. Turning the circular handle, he lifted the small latch from its brace against the door and slowly allowed the hall light to break through the darkness.

Atop his large four-poster bed lay his love, his hidden treasure known only to his staff and a handful of others he trusted enough with his secret. His eyes softened, leaning his towering form against the post of the doorframe slightly to take you in. Allowing a soft smile to rise to the corner of his lips, he raked his amber-eyes over you to take in your sleeping form.

You lay in a white silken bed-robe, the fabric of the many layers pooling at your wrists in their lengthy decline. Laying on your side, facing the door, your hair lay gracefully cascading atop his pillowcase. Your right leg bent at the knee, the duvet laying beneath it as to mimic your embrace with your lover; as you would most commonly be cradled against the chest of the warlord as you both slept soundly. Your hand was clutching a single red rose, laying wilting and dried over the mattress alongside his promise to return to you before the cut, thorny rose should ever require water. A single petal fell to the floor as you took a deep breath to indicate your slumber had become interrupted.

Mihawk quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the softest click of the latch could be heard as he attempted to silence his decent. He took his hat off, placing it on the desk beside his armchair, alongside removing Yoru and laying the great blade on it’s wooden, decorative resting hilt. He sighed in relief as the weight had been removed from his shoulders, rotating them to remind his muscles how to behave without harnessing such a weapon. Slowly, he drew his arms out of his cloak, wincing as his biceps contracted beneath the material.

He had overexerted himself, went too hard for too long; something you would chastise him for, he’s sure of it. Placing the cloak on the back of his armchair, he removed his boots and socks from his feet and slotted them beneath the bed. His fingers halted their retract as you let a slow, sleepy moan fall from your lips. Your brows began to furrow as your lucidity continued to propel you within haunted dreams of your love’s demise. Mihawk hastily unclasped the buckle on his belt, pulling in one swift movement to rid it from its place within his pants and tucked the object in one of his boots.

Kneeling his right knee on the bed, he began a stumbled and exhausted crawl to fall his body next to your own. He laced his left arm beneath your right and flattened his forehead against your chest, listening to the slow, rhythmic thump of your heartbeat. The remainder of petals fell to rest atop his curled, darkened locks as he closed his honey-coloured eyes tightly shut. He lifted his right arm to rest over your manubrium, focussing more on his concentration listening to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the rise and fall of your breathing.

In your subconsciousness, you drew down your right hand and laced it within Mihawk’s hair; body completing this soft and gentle embrace from muscle memory alone. The furrow in your brows completely fell from your face and softened in your slumber once more. Mihawk smiled into your embrace, relishing being in the arms of his hidden love once again – albeit nine days late.

He hoped you did not hold such tardiness against him, tracing low circles atop the small of your back before drawing his hand down to clutch the back of your right thigh to hook your knee over the bottom of his ribcage. Sighing into the embrace, he felt your body completely relax into him with a sigh of his own to follow in reaction. The two of you feeling the weight of the absence fleeing from your bodies in this gentle embrace, falling from you in waves of bittersweet reunification.

The gentle light of the crescent moon continued to follow into the room, its light illuminating your embrace through the small partition within the heavy charcoal curtains. Mihawk reopened his yellow eyes, tilting his head up and removing his hand from your chest in favour of brushing a single strand away from your face. Your lips were parted, eyelashes forming a small shadow atop the apples of your cheeks under the light of the moon. Mihawk felt his heart swell knowing you were safe in his castle, slumbering soundly while remaining hidden away from the world government.

Finally having something that was truly his own, not an ability to be used for exploit, nor his vast array of wealth in riches and land. You were his, something that was only for him.

“Sleep now, my love,” he sighed, pressing a lingering kiss against your throat with his eyelashes flickering against the bare skin as he leant in to your embrace. He withdrew his soft touch and whispered against your flesh: “May you forgive me when you wake. I love you, may you continue to be mine. Only mine.”

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