#cpt

[psychoticfairybitch]

Want you to eat me so I’m always with you hehehehe

[guerillas-of-history]

The Communist Party of Thailand (CPT)

Military wing: People's Liberation Army of Thailand (PLAT)

[newsbrand]

Kendrick Lamar is making fellow Angelenos very proud of his performance at the Super Bowl LIX and even had Serena Williams C-Walkin' on the stage reppin' Compton

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

By Henriot Dorcent and Kim Ives

The Haitian State is repressing Haiti’s masses by importing foreign military occupation troops, called the Multinational Security Support Mission (MSS), to reinforce the Haitian National Police (PNH), the traditional counterinsurgency force deployed by the international and local ruling classes.

The State is also looking to bolster the Armed Forces of Haiti (FAdH), which has historically been the ruling classes’ principal hammer to keep the masses down. Although disbanded in 1995, the force was relaunched in 2017.

But the puppet government of de facto Prime Minister Garry Conille and the nine-member Transitional Presidential Council (CPT) are also using what could be called economic or financial repression.

[de-prototype]

🇿🇦Mother City Blu 🌬️🔘🔵🟦💙🩵

[periodically80s]

[anilkumar423]

Post your company jobs for #free using this link, and win 100$

Post your company jobs for #free using this link, and win 100$

[jose92gt]

Zwijo ya tiene nuevos admiradoreshttps://x.com/AtirYolo/status/1797633631843926108?t=cwEjF9UCgeztVATVDaYsYQ&s=19

[guerillas-of-history]

The Communist Party of Thailand (CPT)

Military wing: People's Liberation Army of Thailand (PLAT)

[newsbrand]

Kendrick Lamar - NOT LIKE US - Music Video in Compton (Behind The Scenes)

PDH Entertainment has released som BTS footage of Kendrick Lamar's smashing summertime hit/Drake diss "Not Like Us"

Enjoy! 🔥

[wardams-blog]

[lequotidien509]

Décrets référendaires et pénaux : une adoption dans un Conseil des ministres sous haute tension

Port-au-Prince, 25 juin 2025 — Dans un climat politique tendu et marqué par des divergences internes au sein du Conseil Présidentiel de Transition (CPT), un Conseil des ministres exceptionnel s’est tenu le mardi 24 juin au Palais national. Deux textes importants ont été adoptés : une révision des décrets portant sur le Code pénal et le Code de procédure pénale, ainsi que le décret référendaire de…

[de-prototype]

Cape town is the best city in Africa.

[cubojorbr]

Dados da CPT mostram que, em 2023, o estado registrou um assassinato, duas tentativas de homicídio e nove ameaças de morte contra lideranças quilombolas.

[harmonicsys]

An essay about OCD, DID, and trauma

We worked on Dialectical Behavior Therapy skills last year (especially around self-regulation and acceptance), and have been working through Cognitive Processing Therapy this year and navigating what seems to be long-undiagnosed OCD. After studying cognitive beliefs, managing safety, and trust issues, the intimacy module in CPT suggests an essay reflecting on why you now think your trauma happened. This is ours.

Why I think my traumatic event(s) occurred --- now

I'm not sure this is the right question. I already understand most of them: I was a convenient target and the other person just didn't give it much thought. Or, they were acting out past patterns they hadn't unlearned, perhaps taught to them by their abusers. Or, they honestly thought they were being helpful and were not informed about how to care for me properly.

What I think may be two better questions are: 1) Why did I react the ways that I did, and 2) Why do I continue to respond to the world in the ways that I do

I am still piecing together #1. I have a better sense now than I used to; the biggest piece may be how I often have not understood what was happening to me. And I know some of why: I was misled about other's motives, or I had been insufficiently educated about the context. But some of the undereduation doesn't add up; I know some selves were taught about some things. So why weren't those selves able to step up and respond? I don't know that. I may not really ever know that. And I have to just practice accepting that. I probably wasn't born shattered and confused; but I may never fully understand how I got to be this way.

As for #2, it's because the brain uses what is familiar. The mind uses what worked before. It's just that, the farther I get from chaotic and painful situations I was in, the less those responses serve me now: being able to integrate multiple perspectives after trauma is important. Being able to return the power of choice to yourself is important. But I carry a risk of new circumstances exacerbating old responses, things that I thought I had unlearned. It's not just spontaneous recovery of a conditioned response; the principles of classical conditioning may play a factor, but I am not Pavlov's dog. I am an entire pack of Pavlov's dogs. I am several Pavlovs, training the dogs, being bitten by the dogs. I am old dogs drifting into years of dreaming, only to wake up and puzzle at the new tricks being asked of them. I am my own weeping and gnashing of teeth. I am my own demonic possession, though where that came from still eludes me. I am not just my own worst enemy, but I struggle to not be several of my own enemies all at once, purely by accident.

And, wow, does that make self-intimacy hard. I cannot, in fact, protect myself from all my sharp edges. I can't see them all, nor can I control them all.

And I think I have to live with my own sharp edges, unpredictable as they are. Because they may cut holes in my awareness, but they also let me slice my consciousness into a thousand little Maxwell's demons, a thousand little automata, a thousand flat little television characters, a thousand rehearsed expressions, a thousand fractal shapes that transcend Minkowski spacetime, a thousand imaginary playthings.

A thousand drills into my bones so I can suck out my own marrow.

I am a goddess unto myself, with the power to kill and rebirth myself over and over.

It's not a power I have much control over.

But I can chop my psyche into pieces and knit more power into it.

And I can do this again, and again.

I can hack at distant traces of knowledge inside the shifting sands of memory and uncover the strange rot that was planted underneath of them, then rework them, to route around the rot, to connect things that don't seem compatible, contorting my reality into agony and vomiting and screams until something rips through me and my glued-together mind cracks again… and I get to glue them together differently.

Then the whole multidimensional crystal assemblage rotates in higher dimensions, and looks nothing like it did before. And I may have more to rebuild… or less.

This all sounds rather violent, and it behooves me to not dwell upon such macabre descriptions of self-analysis and self-change.

There's another side to this.

Some people say, "you cannot have life without death, and you cannot have pleasure without pain." But I think this is backwards. You cannot have death without life; the absence of life is mere inertness. Knowing that death is bearing down on you every moment that you aren't doing your hardest to focus on living is a dark but useful reminder. And, for the other clause: I think you cannot have pain without pleasure, because pain is a transient state. Agony is a journey, and peace is the destination.

Peace is a pleasure.

Even when you reach your final peace.

But there's so much work to try to accomplish before that point. And there's joy in doing.

There's joy in letting go of what feels like it is keeping you alive, and dying on the inside, and waking up in a sea of confusion to discover that you are somehow still breathing, still capable of movement, still capable of thought.

And you realize that the things you thought were keeping you alive may have only seemed like relevant, living beliefs because of Brownian motion, random walks of thought, originated from dead beliefs that were always meant to die.

It's hard to articulate which perceptions of the world, as firmly held beliefs, are so toxic, especially after being so necessary early on -- at least succinctly. It's like looking at a hydroponic farm that has died, but whose liquids still slosh around, carrying useless amoeba, and trying to sum up a narrative for the loss.

The worst part of trauma is that it demands you stab yourself to survive, then it demands you murder the scars from those stab wounds.

You pay a price once, when you're hurt.

You pay a price again, when you struggle to adapt to a broken world.

You pay a price one more time, when you rip away overgrown roots that had allowed you to find some scant nutrition after you had been yanked from the ground.

And if you're lucky, you keep paying prices that you can't even tally, because your memory won't let you.

If you're really lucky, you won't even know why.

But, while you try to navigate such luck, there is music to be heard. There are places to visit, people to get to know, living souls you encounter whose bodies yearn to be touched, fucked, or both.

You can live as an insane person. You can even live as an insane herd of dogs, or wild animals, or as a singing, dancing, animated weapon rack deep within the dungeon chambers where the world dumps anyone and everyone who is too clever, too flawed, or too unusual to fit the status quo.

And you can live that way if you are willing to weed your own garden and fertilize your own soil.

I am a goddess unto myself, with the power to kill and rebirth myself over and over.

It's a power I have more control over than I used to. -- mirrored at https://twitter.com/tslycha/status/1918323946161603019

[village-witch-coco]

Weird therapy thoughts:

To understand my feelings I must dissect them.

I must open them up and label their insides, understanding their history and growth, their ancestors, and their purposes.

Unfortunately as a result this process, the emotion will die. However, this is sometimes a good thing if that emotion is anxiety, depression, or self loathing.