#〈 tw : repressed memories? 〉

[lgbtiwtv]

god. god. the significance of the diary pages about claudia’s assault being torn out raggedly by Louis, clearly in a fit of guilt and anguish and trauma, vs the diary pages about louis mourning lestat and regretting killing him being removed with surgical control and precision. by armand. this wasn’t a heat of the moment action it was deliberate and calculated and I can’t stop thinking about it

[bpdmaxxer]

“But he was just a child”

So was I

And I’m suffering and he’s not

[iwillbreakyourfuckingskull]

I love being a physically and mentally strong 35 y/o man who can fight back and take no shit from people and never having been a little girl who was sexually abused by her own family. Right? That never happened to me.... right guys??

[tuulikki]

Okay so is there any pseudo-psychology that doesn’t assume that everything wrong with you is due to repressed memories of childhood abuse? They all seem to do it! Satanic panic, Freud, gay conversion therapy, cult leaders… the gang’s all there. It’s been so resounding disproven but yet the idea that you can have secret repressed memories persists so strongly.

I assume it succeeds because it’s easy to tell someone in pain that the answer is simple. I can understand why people who are told that believe it. But what I don’t understand is how someone in a position of authority could tell another human being such a horrifyingly destructive lie.

The sheer amount of human misery this has caused breaks my fucking heart

[thatpinkkwitch]

the more my therapist and i manage to figure out about my repressed trauma the more i want to just go nope!! and just leave it alone forever

[and-stir-the-stars]

Words Fail.

Summary: Michael asks two things of Evan: 1) Do Not Ask Questions. 2) Do Not Dig Up the Past. Evan fails. There are consequences. There are always consequences.

Word count: 4,974 Au: Grab&Go (brief description of the au here) Tw: blood, yelling, emotional manipulation, child abuse Age references: Evan-14. Mike- 29.

...

Evan’s problems had started with a carton of strawberry ice cream. 

The fourteen-year-old hadn’t been sent to the store for any ice cream; only to pick up some eggs, since he and Mike had run out.

He didn’t know why he had picked up the strawberry ice cream upon seeing it, but… there had been just enough money for it left over after buying the eggs.

After running home to their dim, grimy apartment as fast as his legs could carry him so the ice cream wouldn’t melt, Evan presented the surprise present to Mike with a big, toothy smile.

It was Mike’s favorite flavor, after all. 

Except, Michael had frozen in place as the words ‘your favorite’ passed Evan’s lips while he held out the strawberry ice cream. 

For several frightening moments, Mike had stayed like that. Frozen-- locked up as though his mind were stuck elsewhere in a dream-- no matter how many times Evan called his name or waved his hand in front of Mike’s face. 

Evan had almost run to a neighbor for help, except Mike came back to life as quickly as his caregiver had disappeared. 

Half-melted strawberry ice cream splattered across the tile floor as Evan lifted his stinging hands up to his chest and curled into a protective hunch. Evan had blinked up at Mike, unable to register that his carer had slapped his hands and knocked the ice cream away even as Mike screamed at him to never buy that ice cream again. 

The teen had tried to talk–- to protest, to apologize, something-– but Mike had snatched the grocery bag of eggs from Evan and slammed it onto the counter, breaking nearly all the eggs inside the carton, and screamed at Evan to go to his room and stay there. 

Strawberry ice cream must not have been Michael’s favorite after all. 

But as Evan had curled up on the bed with his head buried in a pillow to muffle his frightened sobs at Mike’s outburst… well, it was odd, but… Evan could have sworn he could remember a gleaming silver spoon with smooth pink cream and strawberry chunks being lifted to a familiar pair of thin lips; he thought he remembered the sweet scent of strawberries paired with a long, hooked nose just like Mike’s scrunching in a smile wide enough to put wrinkles on the corners of silvery blue eyes…

Maybe Evan was misremembering. He must have been. Michael’s eyes had always been dark blue, not silvery pale. 

And Michael hated strawberry ice cream. 

Unfortunately, things were still tense between them, even though it had been a couple of days since the ice cream incident. 

Michael’s eyes would narrow whenever Evan walked into a room. Ev could feel Mike’s gaze drilling into the back of his skull and making his hairs stand on end when the elder thought Evan wouldn’t notice the staring. Mike wasn’t making jokes anymore. His voice when he did speak was sharp and short, and he rarely spoke more than a mumbled word or two.

It was obvious that Mike was still mad at him, so Evan did his best to stay out of Mike’s way. He tread carefully through the house for days, rarely leaving his room except to tiptoe around to do some cleaning, doing both his normal chores and some extra things so that Mike would have less to worry about around the house. Mike was always so tired after work. 

Evan had thought he was doing a good job. Until Michael snapped again. 

Just like last time, Evan wasn’t entirely certain of what he had done to upset Mike. 

continue on ao3

tagging people who might enjoy this: @justalittleegg @serenefig @crumbleclub @cloudwhisper23 @catwithacupofcoffee

[wowitsmetaylor]

When you think of “core memories,” do you think of something normal, or do you think of that one time you were at a con and met the voice actor for Steven Universe and you ending up taking a*id together in his hotel room?

[summerdreamof2009]

TRIGGER WARNING: CSA, CHILD ABUSE, RAMCOA??

So my mother used to have me act like a dog for periods of time. Putting me on a leash, giving me a shock collar of some kind and punishing me with it if i refused sexual advances from her, making me eat and sit on the floor like a dog, she would do this for a few months then randomly stop. She usually did this over summer break or over winter break. This all happened when I was in pre-school and elementary school. I am struggling to believe in these memories as I am slowly slipping into denial I just can’t believe my mother could be so evil. My mother has ASPD/NPD/Schizophrenia diagnosed I can’t imagine that most of what she did was when she was psychotic like my therapists have suggested in the past, it’s just too organized and calculated to be from someone in full blown psychosis. How can someone be so evil to there own child that they had from an affair is that why she did this to me?? I can’t believe she hated me so much she’d rather abuse me than just abort me

[chronicallyuniconic]

Why we need to stop blaming survivors who take years to come forward:

*TW: Childhood Sexual Abuse*

[In light of Kevin Spacey being in court, I'm seeing alot of horrible discourse & I just want to add my exp so I don't scream profanities].

It takes years to report for so many reasons and I'm here to describe my personal experience, and just why it took so long to come forward. Only now 25 years after it started, am I able to write about it with some clarity instead of confusion.

I was just a child when it happened, in my formative years, considered one of the most important times for a developing child. I did not know, not fully anyway, how wrong it was, what happened to me, that it was a crime.

The person who did it, was fully known to everyone around me, and everyone loved (and still love) that version of the person they knew/know.

From about age 6, I was silently questioning if I'd dreamt it multiple times, or maybe what happened to me was just something that was supposed to take place. Did every _____ do this? Does every daughter have this happen to them? Is it all children my age maybe? I just couldn't make sense of it. In some ways, I still can't.

I didnt know the word pornography at such a young age, but the magazines my abuser would leave for me to find, left me confused, what are those people doing?

As I chug into my teenage years with these mixed memories, feelings, and now hormones, I spend more time with a friend, my best friend and later became my first girlfriend at 14. She had a similar thing happen to her too, multiple times just like me, except when she told a teacher she was taken from her mother and sister, into foster care. And that's how our relationship ended.

I didn't want to be separated from my younger sibling, of which we are immensely close. I have to protect this from happening to them, to us. A month later, I find out I'm going to be welcoming another sibling in 6 months. I sobbed at the thought of another sibling having to endure what I had, I have a baby to protect soon and it's not mine. I spent my teenage years with them as much as I could.

It wasn't until I turned 17, I realise the predator living around me, is only into girls. They continue watching me through cracks in the door, walking in when I'm in the bathroom doing anything, secretly going through my phone, taking me for driving lessons, keeping up work in the community, all the while dropping towel when I walk past the bedroom.

Somehow, I kept my wits about me, and at 18 left 300 miles in the opposite direction to University. My sibling could protect themselves now too. I had to say goodbye to my mum, she was still involved with him.

After 10 weeks at University, I was alone and isolated, I struggled to make friends, noone on my course lived anywhere near me. I was suggested to go to the University counsellor, where after 12 weeks, I had told her more or less everything.

It took me another 2 years and a failed relationship to summon the courage to ring the police, and now also explain why it had taken me so long and why would I go on driving lessons with the man that did this to me? And even now looking back, there were things I'd left out in my report. Because repressed memories really do exist and they're still affecting me to this day.

If you have ever felt the rushing wave of a memory you never had before, suddenly appear, I'm giving you such a big hug, because it's awful. It's like drowning where you stand and I've spent too long questioning my reality.

The next time you wonder why it took someone so long to speak up, it's not just about that. It takes years of mental torture and so much silent work to undo damage that should have never been there in the first place.

Standing with the men who are speaking up💜

[smoleldritch]

(this may trigger some people, please check the tags)

Have you ever repressed a memory?

I've been thinking about it, and I think I could explain it somewhat easy to understand.

Imagine you are very young and you lose a toy in a park. It's not necessarily your favorite toy, but you liked it. You don't get to be sad or miss the toy, because you don't really understand that losing it means you won't ever seen it again. You just forget all about it and about that day at the park.

The time passes and you don't think about losing a toy at the park.

Maybe if someone have ever asked you specifically if you lost a toy at a park, you'd have remembered. Maybe then your mind would have known where to look for that specific memory.

But people never ask if you lost a toy at a park. You just hear about people losing toys. Maybe someone ever told you about them losing a toy at a park. But that didn't make you ask yourself if you did, why would it?

So you don't. You just grow up, wary of parks.

Until one day maybe you come across a toy that looks just like the one you lost; or maybe the park you're walking looks similar, or maybe you like another toy just as much as you liked that one as a child. And you remember.

It's not surprising, of course you remember! You've know that you lose that toy all that time ago, even if you didn't think about it, so you could pretend it didn't happened.

But now it's all that you can think about. Because you didn't get to be sad before but now you are, or maybe you're angry that you lose that toy, or maybe you're just ashamed.

And suddenly you start thinking maybe there is a reason you're wary of parks.

[grellssquishyhusband]

Stupid horror AU shit or fucking something idk

I figure the undertaker kinda becomes RCiels dad sorta. I'm still working on it but I might call Horror AU OCiel Issac

[bpdmaxxer]

I hate getting flashbacks so much I don’t wanna remember. I wanna repress my brain repressed stuff for a reason why am I remembering it I wanna forget

I wanna forget so bad.

[atangledfate]

”Memory Stone” ((for let’s go with Sticks :3))

The small stone shimmered, glowing like white hot fire. The badger looked on with fear, confusion, and uncertainty. Deep in her mind she felt it burning, like something she didn't want to remember. Smoke filled the image projected before her, and the sound of crackling fire. But not the fire that took her home, it was older then that like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. Yet the image was more clear as it billowed and buckled before becoming clear.

A young badger sat crying on the floor, her clothes in tatters and cuts and scraps marred her arms and legs. A large gash was on her forehead. The fire burning around her, and the smoke threatening her lungs. The tattered remains of a plane burned up around her, as she tugged and pulled on the arm of an older badger.

She wanted him to wake up, and that sensation clenched at her heart!

" please, please wake up! please! "

She begged and yelled at the man

" PAPA! PAPA! WAKE UP! "

His hand finally rose to lay on her tiny head. His somber blue eyes locked on hers. He pulled her into a Hug, yet his legs were firmly pinned under parts of the plane. He whispered in a soft voice to her and yet it was so hard for her to remember what he said. She wanted to but it was so soft. She felt the little bag of marbles placed in her hands as he curled her paws around them.

" Sweetie... don't forget what i taught you... now you have to go... i'll always be watching over you i promise... now run... you have to run... find a safe place... and remember i will... always love you my little sticks..."

the memory faded and badger's eyes were leaking but she didn't entirely understand why. Who was that man? was that her? why did she feel like crying? Why were her hands shaking...

Then the pain came, her head throbbing and thumping she had to grip her head. The memory fading, like dust to the wind-- what was she doing? why was she here? She plopped down on the ground confused as she touched her leaking cheeks.

" Where is sticks? what is she doing here... whys her face leaking..."

[thestarseersystem]

Is it normal to get feelings "something like this happened before" after watching something so fucked up in a show.

Because I can't tell if it's real but I get images and flashes in my mind. The same darkness. I feel like it happened to me, and that something like that has always been there, but those memories aren't mine. I never remembered something like that happened before, I don't know.

The layers of dissociation are deeper than I thought.

[fannele]

Repressed memories part 1

When I heard that the corn reminded him of the farm I wanted to do a little head cannon comic of Jax’s childhood in the farm.

Update: I fix the colour because it mess up.

[nightmare-foundation]

highkey i hate when i end up having repressed memories unlocked. like no i did not want to remember the fact that a teacher groomed me when i was really young thank you