🎧 Healing Audio Library

Use these soundscapes for emotional regulation, nervous system grounding, and trauma integration. Click play and let your healing begin.

Calm Background Ambient

Gentle atmospheric background—ideal for grounding, journaling, or CPTSD self-regulation.

Healing Meditation

Perfect for deep breathing, inner child work, or background audio for reflection prompts.

Soft Ambient Loop

Looping soft piano tones that support focus and safety while reading or writing.

Peaceful Ambient Space

Floaty, space-inspired ambient track—great for disassociation recovery or body-awareness work.

Emotional Recovery Tones

Piano and synth combo that gently moves emotion—ideal for evening posts or heart-heavy moments.

🌀 All music is royalty-free via Pixabay Music.

Thursday, July 17, 2025

The “Fuck Pig” Tattoo – How He Trained Me to Hate Myself

 The “Fuck Pig” Tattoo – How He Trained Me to Hate Myself

Tagline: He called it foreplay. I call it a scar.
Content Warning: Sexual degradation, coercion, identity trauma, body image abuse

I didn’t wake up one day and decide to get the words “fuck pig” tattooed on my body.

That didn’t come from empowerment, or confidence, or kink.

It came from conditioning.

From being told that humiliation was intimacy.
From being told that degradation meant I was wanted.
From being so numb that if I couldn’t control what was happening to me, I could at least choose to survive it.

He made it feel like my idea.
But that’s the trick of coercion—it never looks like a demand.
It looks like love that you’re too broken to question.


How It Started: The Jokes That Weren’t Jokes

It began gradually.

First, it was a joke during sex:

“You’re such a dirty little pig.”

Then it became a nickname:

“C’mere, my little fuck pig.”

Then it was a routine. A script:

“Snort for me. Good girl. That’s it. You love it.”

At first, I flinched.

He noticed. He softened. He said:

“I thought you were kinky.
I thought you trusted me.
It’s just a joke—unless you’re being dramatic again.”

The message was clear: Laugh, or lose connection.


The Conditioning

I was postpartum. Tired. Lonely. Physically wrecked.

He knew that.

He waited until I was vulnerable to push the limits.
And then he praised me for going along with it.

“See? You’re so hot when you finally stop fighting yourself.”
“This is what you were made for.”

He called it liberation.
I now know it was submission through psychological pressure.

It wasn’t kink. It was erasure.


The Tattoo: When I Gave Up and Called It Consent

The idea of getting it tattooed started as a joke. He said it during sex one night, half-laughing:

“You should get that inked. Make it official.”

I laughed too. But later, I looked in the mirror and heard the voice in my head:

You’re already branded. Might as well make it permanent.

So I did it.

Not because I wanted to—but because I thought if I chose it, it wouldn’t hurt so much when he used it against me.

That’s what trauma does:
It convinces you that reclaiming your abuse means accepting it fully.


What It Felt Like Living With That Word on My Body

Every time I looked at the tattoo, I didn’t feel aroused.
I felt hollow.

It triggered flashbacks.
It echoed his voice.
It made me feel dirty when I was trying to feel whole.

Worse—it made me complicit in my own degradation.
Because how do you explain a tattoo like that without blaming yourself?

That’s the trap.
He made the abuse look like my kink—so no one would believe me if I ever said I was violated.

“You got it tattooed,” he’d say.
“That’s not abuse—that’s commitment.”

But here’s what I know now:

He didn’t brand me because I was into it.
He branded me because he knew I wouldn’t fight it anymore.


Removing It Won’t Fix Everything. But It’s a Start.

The ink is still there.
But every day I reclaim my story, the meaning fades.

It doesn’t say “fuck pig” to me anymore.
It says:
You survived.
You got free.
You know the truth now.

And the real mark he left on me?
It’s the strength I gained by crawling out from under the identity he tried to write into my skin.


🔍 Tactics Breakdown – What He Did and How

🔸 Gradual Boundary Pushing (Grooming)

He didn’t start with extremes. He started with small “jokes,” pushing my limits while acting like it was funny or flattering.

🔸 Mockery Reinforced with Affection

If I flinched, he acted wounded or framed it as my problem. If I gave in, I was rewarded with praise, orgasm, or temporary closeness.

🔸 Degradation as Conditioning, Not Consent

Over time, I lost the ability to tell where “play” ended and dehumanization began. This wasn’t mutual—it was manipulation masked as sex.

🔸 Symbolic Branding

By encouraging a tattoo that mocked my body and agency, he escalated the abuse into permanent identity trauma.


🫂 If You’ve Been Branded By Degradation

You are not disgusting.
You are not broken.
You are not “into it” just because you survived it.

A performance under pressure is not proof of desire.
A tattoo under duress is not a contract.
A survival strategy is not consent.


📞 National Domestic Violence Hotline
📱 Call: 800-799-SAFE (7233)
💬 Chat: thehotline.org
24/7 | Confidential | Free

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