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what a happy family 🖼️

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people always act like there’s such a hard line between “psychotic person” and “normal person”, and I feel like that plays a lot into the dehumanization psychotic people face. cause once a nonpsychotic person internalizes this logic, suddenly we’re attractions and interesting and a fun research subject cause we’re just so fucking other that we become wholly unrelatable. for the nonpsychotic person, it’s unimaginable what psychosis must “really” feel like. so they treat us like a fictional species just trying to understand our existence. and they don’t worry about how their actions might affect us any more than they’d worry about insulting a vulcan by calling the vulcan thought process “just so interesting!”.

but in reality…. the difference between a psychotic person and a nonpsychotic person is not so stark. all human brains are prone to psychosis. all humans are capable of experiencing psychosis in one way or another. anyone could develop a full blown psychotic disorder at any time, no one is born immune to this. and while there’s some contexts in which it’s necessary to differentiate who does or doesn’t experience these symptoms of course, largely I think nonpsychotic people are doing themselves a disfavor - and being ableist in the process - by ignoring the hard truth of the matter: us psychotic people are exactly the same as them.

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having an intense emotional reaction and being called dangerous and scary when you know a literal hug would calm you down is one of the worst parts of bpd for me that make me feel so misunderstood

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People will be fully antipsychiatry and vocal about medical abuse until it has to do with psychotic people and then sedation and forced medication is fine.

I've literally been told, on antipsych forums, my medical abuse was justified because I'm schizoaffective. It's sick and it just goes to show exactly what they think of us

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“All of the abused child’s psychological adaptations serve the fundamental purpose of preserving her primary attachment to her parents in the face of daily evidence of their malice. By developing a contaminated, stigmatized identity, the child victim takes the evil of the abuser into herself and thereby preserves her primary attachments to her parents. Because the inner sense of badness (shame) preserves a relationship, it is not readily given up even after the abuse has stopped; rather, it becomes a stable part of the child’s personality structure. Similarly, adult survivors who have escaped from abusive situations continue to view themselves with contempt and to take upon themselves the shame and guilt of their abusers. The profound sense of inner badness becomes the core around which the abused child’s identity is formed, and it persists into adult life.”

— Judith Lewis Herman, Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence - From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror

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i dont care anymore about other people. i don't care if i have friends or not, if im loved or not. i dont. i dont have friends anymore irl, or someone to love me and be in a relationship with me. i dont even have many online friends. an entire group of my "online friends" were all lying to me about being my friends. they hated me, and kicked me out of their group/server. i didnt even know why. i dont know why people lie to me about being my friend, or about loving me, but i don't trust anyone now. even the people who say they're my friends might be lying. even in a new relationship i got into, i couldn't take him seriously about loving me. my ex spent 3 years and 3 months of my life lying to me. he tried cheating on me twice, and i will never trust anyone when they say they love me or they care about me ever again because of that. i will never trust anyone to love me again, and it's because of you.

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 a lazy scatterbrained comic about undiagnosed mental illness

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Matt Haig, How to Stop Time

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yall with adhd or autism or such ever just get…. bored. like so Painfully bored. like its not “oh hehe i was so bored and i made this” to flex or “oh im so bored bc i have nothing to do” but like a “i am physically incapable of ending this horrible understimulation with any activity i might attempt” and its genuinely fucking painful

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I sit with my grief. I mother it. I hold its small, hot hand. I don’t say, shhh. I don’t say, it's okay. I wait until it is done having feelings. Then we stand and we go wash the dishes.

-- Callista Buchen, from Taking Care

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