#mental illness makes literally just fucking existing a constant exhausting fight

[cryptidyork]

.

[pepprs]

genuinely so angry and scared im shaking. how many other times this week this month this year have i been exposed without knowing it. do people even tell each other anymore. it’s just so grim. it’s so fucking grim

[my-little-loverboy]

I think the reason Halsin and Zevlor (and Jaheria but I don’t post about her often) appeal to me so much as characters is bc they’re old and queer. Halsins varied queerness is an inherent fact of his character, and I heavily hc Zev as a cis gay man and jaheria as a straight transfem.

I only recently realized why I like that so much, it’s because it’s incredibly likely I won’t get old.

Tw. Death, graphic descriptions of chronic illness, mention of genocide, violence fuelled by bigotry.

I’m kinda just rambling in hopes that maybe someone like me will get comfort from knowing that they’re not alone.

I’m mixed, visibly queer, physically disabled, chronically ill and poor in an extremely conservative area. One of my only clear memories before 2016 is being told I wouldn’t live to see 13 bc of all the things wrong with me. I could drop dead from any number of physical issues, I could be killed for being queer, I could be murdered as a “joke” (this whole thing was prompted by an article about a group of teenagers who pushed a wheelchair user to her death in front of a train a few months back bc they thought it was funny. I was at the exact station where it happened, in my wheelchair, waiting for the train.) because I’m supposed to use a mobility aid, which means murder is okay, apparently.

I don’t know any old queers either, I’m not fond of adult themed events but there was a time when I forced myself to go anyway. Just to see people who really and truly lived.

And there was no one.

I know why there wasn’t, but still.

The oldest queer person I’ve ever known was 37, and 39 when she was murdered.

I suppose I just want to hope that someone like me will be able to grow old, and be truly and completely happy.

A part of me is guilty about that, in a weird sort of way. Be the change you want to see in the world and what have you, but I quite literally can’t.

Protests rarely stay peaceful here bc of pigs (cops) and violence fueled by bigotry. I cannot move fast enough to get away.

I can’t afford to donate, I have to live with two people who are, frankly, incredibly bad for my mental health bc this province believes $500 a month covers rent (if I had to pay rent and not just utilities my third would be close to $600 with 3 people in a 2 bedroom, we could not find a cheaper place.)

I do my daily clicks for Palestine (one on each device + in incognito), I keep myself as up to date as I can handle without breaking down. (Particularly genocide is something that has been a constant in my life, Ukrainian/indigenous, somehow both the 2nd generation to be born in Canada and the 2nd generation to be born off the reserve. I physically cannot handle reading about it without making myself legitimately sick a lot of the time, I’m guilty about that too.)

My silly little pngs don’t have to worry about that. They’re only sad when I say they are, otherwise they are happy and they are loved. Loved in a way I can’t even understand, really. I don’t know what it’s like to sit on a counter and kiss my partner while I’m cooking, I don’t know what it’s like to be domestic. It feels weird and edgy to say but it’s true, I don’t know what life is like without pain and exhaustion and struggle. I have fought tooth and nail to make myself a safe space and still it does not exist outside myself. I have exactly 10.2 square meters that are truly safe, and even when I am safe I am in pain, my joints ache and dislocate and fight me when I try to move.

So I draw my silly little pngs, and hope that someone will eventually be happy like that. Because even when everyone is shitty hope is really fucking important. And I can do that, dear gods I can hope. As hard as I can I hope for change.

[grimmradiance]

Close to Me: How the Hollow Knight's Fighting Style Reflects Their Trauma (and the Radiance's as well)

So I've been trying to actually beat the Radiance, which means I've been fighting the Hollow Knight. A lot, as a matter of fact, since I'm beans at this game sometimes. I've also been thinking about @lost-kinn's meta about how fighting styles are how Vessels, especially the Little Knight, communicate.

In trying to apply this to the Hollow Knight, I've been coming to some very interesting conclusions, especially taken in context of...Everything Else in the lore, and Everything Else implicated in this by the psychology of it.

There's a lot to cover here, and it tracks through a LOT of different places, including trauma psychology, the relationship between chronic stress and lifespan health, and shape symbolism. Two warnings first:

One: this essay is gonna get heavy. It includes fine-grained discussion of the Hollow Knight's trauma, including discussions of the real-life machanics of psychological abuse, as well as the Extremely Concerning Implications of them harming themself during their boss fight. please read with caution and when you're in a safe emotional place to do so.

Two: This post is not a place for justifying the Pale King. If you read this essay in its entirety and still want to do that, please make your own post; my relationship to the Hollow Knight themself is deeply rooted in my own experiences, so in the context of this discussion I can't promise I won't take it personally.

With that out of the way, let's talk trauma and fighting styles:

We know that the Hollow Knight is trained to be a paragon of fighting skill, through the Pure Vessel fight, and this gives us a fantastic way to compare what they were like before they were made Government Assigned Radiance Jail, and after. Or, in other words, we're given the perfect opportunity to see what the Radiance is doing (i.e. context effects), and what Hollow is (i.e. what we can conclude is reliably consistent as a part of them). Listed here, for reference:

Hollow's attacks:

Three slashes

A dash slash

A Radiant Shade Soul, which launches a volley of Infection blobs in arcs

A Radiant Desolate Dive, which produces pillars of entwined Void and Light at random intervals

The Infection bursting out of them in random arcs, covering a significant amount of the aerial space of the arena

The Radiance ragdolling their body around trying to hit the Knight

Contact damage from them stabbing themself and falling over atop you

The Pure Vessel's attacks:

Three slashes

A dash slash

A Pure Shade Soul, which launches a volley of nails in straight lines

A Pure Desolate Dive, which produces nails at specific intervals

A Pure Focus, which causes circular explosions across most of the aerial space in the arena

Lashing out with a Void Arm (word choice intentional)

I've highlighted attacks from each battle that are different, since those are our points of interest here. In addition, both the Pure Vessel and Hollow are exceedingly fond of teleport-spamming in a way that is usually reserved for a specific group of bosses.

Another very important distinction between these two fights: the Pure Vessel doesn't scream. Well, they certainly try to, but no sound comes out. No voice to cry suffering, after all. All of these points have a lot to go into, so let's address them one at a time.

All That Remains: Theoretical Background On The Significance Of Constants

Making comparisons across time is important specifically because humans (and human-like bugs) change. Most personality traits aren't set in stone--they exist as an interaction of someone's internal tendencies, their experiences, and their environment. Speaking of those last two points, not all experiences and environments are created equally. Adverse childhood experiences (ACEs for short) are known to have lifelong implications for a child's health, both physically and mentally. These are events that are so stressful or stressful for so long that they exceed a child's ability to cope and become toxic stress (yes, that's the term in the literature, because it actively damages your organs). They compound, as well--the stress of one ACE makes it harder for a child to cope with another, especially if they overlap.

Some examples of ACEs? Being exposed to physical danger or the threat of physical danger, deprivation of normal social relationships with peers of a similar age, being forcibly seperated from family members, witnessing a loved one being hurt or killed, chronic illness in oneself or a family member, neglect of a child's emotional needs....

Poor fucking Holly. It's a miracle they didn't disintegrate under the pressure. The only other option is that they bent and adapted under that much stress--in other words, most of their personality has been forcibly reshaped by what they've gone through. Anyone who has up-close experience with parentification or complex child abuse already knows: this was by design. I'm not saying the intent was to traumatize the Pure Vessel past several points of no return, but the intent definitely was to reshape their personality for the purpose of being The Vessel. We only see them (the Pure Vessel) in battle after this process is mostly or entirely complete, but we do see them a few times beforehand. I'd like to draw attention to the Path of Pain cutscene right now.

I've seen people talking about the look the Vessel and the King share as a sign that TPK really does love his child. That might be true, but it's definitely not relevant when it comes to how abuse works. This is, in fact, exactly how the cycle of abuse uses affection as a tool. Long periods of abuse or neglect, smoothed over by small periods of affection that placate the survivor? That's textbook love bombing, the kind that forms stubborn trauma bonds and facilitates unhealthy dependency. Forgive me for not giving the Higher Being of knowledge and prescience the benefit of the doubt on that one. (/s)

Team Cherry knows about the importance of parallels and dissonance. There's a reason the music in the second phase of the Hollow Knight fight plays in the Path of Pain. There's a reason it cuts out the moment the battle with the Kingsmoulds is over, instead of at the room transition. There's a reason it doesn't cut out in the Black Egg. Actually, there's two potential reasons, which could also coexist: either little Hollow trusts the Pale King to keep them safe, even after the borderline torture that they were just subjected to, or big Hollow is so hypervigilant that they're in full functioning-through-trauma mode even while they're at death's door.

If you don't see how much the Pale King scarred his child at this point, I'm not sure we were playing the same game.

Walking the Straight Line: How the Pale King's Teachings Show In the Pure Vessel

The Pale King loves order and control. Everything about the White Palace and every decision we see him make implies this. Everything is spotless white walls and well-maintained gardens; the only signs of disorder are hidden away, either in his workshop or in The Pit™. This also reflects in the Pure Vessel's title--pure as in holy, but also pure as in without flaw. Considering the Nailsmith's emotional state after completing the Pure Nail, TPK's fate with his Perfect Controlled Kingdom, and the Godmaster ending as a whole, attaining perfection is not a good thing in any sense.

We know the Hollow Knight isn't perfect--that's the whole catalyst for the plot. But considering their upbringing and their fighting style as the Pure Vessel, their imperfections absolutely kill them emotionally. I'll spare the lecture on how perfectionism affects neurodivergent kids even more severely than neurotypical kids, if only to keep this post to a reasonable length (look up "twice-exceptional children" if you'd like to know the theory I'm glossing over in more depth). But, in essence, the deck is doubly stacked against them--they have a higher goal to reach, and far more obsctacles in their path, including their own emotional scars.

I've already discussed how Hollow isn't meant for this kind of stress in a physical sense in other posts. They're not prepared for it emotionally, either--the Pale King wants perfection, and they can't even stand up straight (every spoonie in the audience already knows how exhausting people's obsession with Standing Up Straight is). There's another page on their stack of emotional baggage, even BEFORE you consider that the Pure Vessel knows their perfection is what bought them a ticket out of the Abyss.

Bringing Teleportation To A Sword Fight: Where The Pure Vessel Reveals Their Fears

How else are they going to cope with that need for perfection, that need to prove themselves worthy of the reason their life was spared, by being flawless in any way they can? Being a mechanical, flawless fighter puts so much pressure on them, both literally (repetitive strain injuries fucking HURT) and figuratively--if you're predictable, the only sure way to win is to mop the floor with your opponents before they figure you out. Hell, that's the way most people play their first run of Hollow Knight, by throwing themselves at the bosses over and over until they figure out the patterns. That strategy is inherently going to fail against an opponent that's, say, an immortal higher being.

There's no way that the Vessel didn't figure this out, and yet none of their TPV specific attacks are positioned randomly--the nails are always evenly spaced, and the Focus explosions are always in a specific height region of the screen. That's clinging to survival strategies even when they become maladaptive in its purest form.

Another dip into psychological theory: let's talk about disorganized attachment. Attachment styles describe how someone's relationships to their main caregiver(s) influence their understanding on relationships in general. Disorganized attachment is a result of an upbringing of inherently unstable parent-child relationships, where there's no way of a child predicting whether an adult is going to be delighted to see them, ambivalent, upset, or otherwise. If my parent woke up some days saying "all right my child, time for the Infinite Buzzsaws Obstacle Course," I'd be the same way. In adulthood this manifests as an inability to form a stable sense of self-concept as well as concepts of others. Mission accomplished, TPK, there's no will to break if you broke it yourself.

This is where the fighting styles as communication comes in--Hollow needs to keep Ghost at a distance to fight, but also wants to be closer to their sibling (the only being who has a chance of understanding what they've been through), BUT also has a trauma-rooted fear of attaching to people, as their experiences with attachment are inherently unpredictable and dangerous. Hence, both the teleportation that doesn't seem to match their fighting style any more reliably than "aim at the thing attacking you" and the second attack unique to the Pure Vessel--they're quite literally lashing out in pain to push people away. There's a reason that attack is so reminiscent of the Thorns of Agony.

Of note is that Holly does seem to teleport like the bugs of the Soul Sanctum do (favoring the edges of a screen, rather than going wherever like Dream Warriors do), which makes sense--they're the most obvious answer to the question "how did they learn how to teleport, anyways?" However, Sanctum bugs have abilities designed to capitalize on this, like homing spells and slashes from above. I can only assume this means that someone saw Holly's proficiency with the nail and assumed it translated to other forms of combat, and didn't feel the need to give them at least a bit of a primer on how to make the best use of it. There's another tally for the Hollow Knight as an autism metaphor.

Trauma Bonds: How the Radiance Speaks Through Hollow

Now, we're back to the Black Egg, and two people stuck in the same sinking ship. The thing that makes this hurt so badly is that Holly and the Radiance are at complete cross purposes here, and yet they both want the same thing:

They both want out, no matter the cost. For the Radiance, this means forsaking the pacifistic nature of the moths and nuking Ghost personally.

For Hollow, this means forsaking the way they were raised and everything that was bludgeoned into their personality: the only way out is to fail, give up control, and trust that Ghost will do what needs to be done.

Imagine how much pain they're in to actually go for it. Going against a literal lifetime of conditioning is something that takes the average person years to even consider, let alone go through with. It's a form of learned helplessness--if you try to break free and fall, again and again, it actively discourages further attempts. Breaking through learned helplessness is an interesting process, because it generally involves re-establishing a sense of control by recalling previous events where the person was able to change their situation.

Which, as far as we know of, are nothing but traumatic memories for Hollow. It's very unlikely that they'd break through it on their own, but we know they have by the time we see the second phase of their fight. This is them at their most desperate: the same music as the Path of Pain, the way they let, or can't stop, the Radiance throw their body around, the way they actively try to let the Radiance out by stabbing themself.

You'd think that giving up and learned helplessness are inherently compatible, but when giving up both goes against your core personality, and involves your active participation, they're in direct opposition. So either Holly was able to process all their trauma by themself (which I doubt, judging by how much effort the player has to go through to even see Ghost's and Hollow's traumatic memories), or someone gave them a nudge or three in that direction.

Considering that there's been someone living in Holly's head who has a vested interest in them Not Doing Their Duty, I think we know who. And the thing is, I think we watch Hollow have this breakthrough during their battle. Imagine for the first time in decades, at least, you can move. You're in pain from being in the same position, probably hallucinating from sensory deprivation, with an infection sucking at what strength your body has left. And there's this little creature who looks ready to fight you, who seems to have let you go for that exact purpose.

And you look down, and both you and the Radiance recognize them from a place rooted deeper than consciousness, in the murky depths of trauma. You see the other Vessel who just as easily could have been you, and who looks so much stronger for not being you, for being an imperfect, willful creature. And the Radiance sees history threatening to repeat itself, another one of the Wyrm's cursed children seeking to lock her away once more.

What else do you do when you're triggered? You scream, and you go on instinct, and you retreat into your head. Those first blows, with the epic music? That's the Vessel the Pale King forged, the fighting machine that will endure unimaginable stress because it knows no other way. What snaps you back out of dissociation? Usually, either the passage of the triggering stimulus, or an even more relevant stimulus (severe pain from getting beaten up by a nail, for example).

The tragedy is this: we know this isn't a triumph. I think most of us went into that fight the first time, knowing we'd be putting the Hollow Knight out of their misery. The music turns tragic, Hollow screams, and then we see the Radiance and Hollow themself break through: the Radiance trying to fight Ghost directly with the resources she has, and Hollow trying to help her along.

For what it's worth, Hollow even had the right idea, when it came to letting themself rest while helping Ghost stop the madness their father started--they were just digging for the Radiance in the wrong place. The dynamic between the Radiance and the Hollow Knight is something I could write on for pages and pages, but this has gone on for long enough. Tune in next time, where I'll presumably talk about this same topic but in reverse with regards to the Radiance.

[abirdystolemyheartonce]

I may be insane. But that’s okay?

I’m going to bare my soul here for a bit.

This is my coming out story.

I suffer. 

Living with myself on a daily basis is absolute hell, but maybe not for the reasons you might expect me to list off.

Call it a curse, a habit, a mental illness, I don’t know what to make of it anymore.

I. Love. Control.

Actually, let me revise that statement.

I have an unhealthy obsession with needing to feel useful, and to an extent, being in control. Not in the sense of being domineering and powerful, but in the sense that I need to manage my environment, my work, my daily life, and even my relationships down to the finest detail.

If I'm not in a role of authority myself I'm doing everything in my ability to help those above me or those similar to me. Anyone. Unless they get in the way or hurt you there’s no reason not to at least try.

It annoys superiors because I always go overboard. I did it a lot at my last job, always talking about how things could be improved systematically. 

"Hey, I found this way we could do (blank) that makes it super easy", or "Maybe we could try something different".

I honestly sound like such a hopeful kissass.

I understand now that I do it because I believed my whole life that I'm not important, needed, or wanted unless I am benefiting others. That my existence is justified only in what I’m able to accomplish for others and prove of myself.  I don't know if it's selfish, senseless, or just stupid that I feel that way.

Another part of it is that I'm a perfectionist, which makes it even worse. I can't stand seeing broken organization or complicated systems that could be simplified or optimized better. It drives me up the wall and I literally can’t handle it to sit by idly and do nothing.

I realize that maybe this gives me some leadership benefits, but at what cost? I don't really know what kind of image it paints of me when I feel constantly as though I'm doing it out of desperation to feel useful or needed in some way. Simultaneously though, it strengthens my character and my ability to work with others, so why should I be that bothered? Isn’t this exactly what I was raised to do? The only part I didn’t seem to get the memo on was the steel resolve because I can’t seem to reduce myself to not feeling anything, or not wanting something for myself.

That’s the clincher, though.

I go nuts. Absolutely nuts. Even when I have nothing to solve, or no angles to make any improvement, my mind is constantly whirring, wondering "what can I do right now, what can I improve right now, how can I help someone else right now, how can I feel better right now, what will this achieve right now, why am I just sitting here not doing anything right now" every god damn second of the fucking day.

It's so hard for me to relax. Impossible, often. It keeps me awake, it makes me exhausted, at worst it leads me to emotional breakdowns - though the depression and my self-image don't help - I'm caught between desperately needing to be needed and thinking I deserve every bad thing that comes my way. Less regularly, I become explosively angry, defiant, and prone to blame others. I know I've got problems, and although I've converted some of those into great strengths, they can be equally damaging and unhealthy. It's so confusing and hard to manage. And with that, the less control I have over myself out of everything I want to have control over, the more unworthy and rotten I feel.

Maybe this sounds monochromatic in some ways, but it’s not. 

Because honestly I do care a lot and I do want to help people out of the bottom of my heart. Before even being taught that I've always been that person. So my angle isn’t just to have control, it’s like a tangible thing that’s rooted itself in me and morphed and convoluted with age. It's like a multi-dimensional hell in that regard. A literal battle with myself that I’m constantly winning and losing simultaneously, whether involuntarily or by choice, I don’t know. The only thing I know for sure is that it’s never resolved. It never just stops. I can try as I may and say I’m getting better and it comes back around full-circle again and again.

You know the best part about it all? I neglect my basic needs. Have since I was little. I feel like I’m worth so little that I need to devote all of my effort to everyone and everything BUT myself. It’s a struggle to even remember to take care of myself. People are often surprised to hear that I let my room get disorderly or don’t take care of my health given how “organized” I am externally. Let’s not even get into all the methods I’ve harmed myself or abused substances over the years.

The stupid thing is even as I write this, I’m feeling it. Clawing at me. Telling me to stop while I’m ahead. That I should feel bad for admitting this. Like I’ve done something wrong or broken some unethical code by doing so. It’s a constant feeling driving me to the edge every moment, a constant feeling and a constant reminder of what a mess I am. I live most of my days so emotionally numb because I’m used to tuning out the internal struggle that often I manage to forget it’s there. It becomes this kind of fog that sits around me that I avoid facing. Like something that will eat me alive or kill me if I stop moving. And that’s how it weasels back into my conscious over and over and over. I escape for only brief periods of time before it comes back in full force until the emotions hurt me to the point of my brain actually shutting them out. Like a magnetized kind of switch in my brain that I can will to shut off but every time draws me painfully into registering its existence - my existence.

I know logistically this boils down to perception. But it's ... extremely hard to live with. I guess ... I’m slowly learning there are a lot more complicated things about me than I ever realized. More importantly, it's not my fault. I was raised to believe this, to be this, while at the same time learning to doubt myself and my self-worth. I don't have to hate myself for it, though. I know that. I know I need help, too. And whenever I can afford that someday, I’m sure that’ll be a dream come true. In the meantime, I have to desperately help myself. Remind myself that there are greater things, greater places, and greater forces to continue to fight for. I have to remind myself that I’m not alone. That the world is beautiful and we are all suffering so similarly, although we all are different. Those reminders get me through. The people I’ve met, the friends I’ve made, they help me get through. But mostly, I get me through. Just barely, but I’m too stubborn to quit above all else. With a twisted combined sense of injustice and relishing the suffering aside, I know there’s more to my life than this. I know I’m worth more than this and I owe it to myself to try. I just have to find whatever little ways I can regain my humanity and remember why I’m still here every day to get through. 

To survive with this insanity.

[xesoteric-extraterrestrialx]

Sorry to everyone for not having a chance to post lately.. Been dealing with harassment and abuse... I wrote this the other day when venting after my dad went psycho on me for taking a shower. I'll probably end up deleting this cause it's really personal and I quote other people to express and try to explain what I'm going through, just need to vent, sorry for being a burden.. 😔

Does anyone else's dad get a hard on from harassing you? Like, you don't even do ANYTHING and they just try to find any reason to try and harass you? Or your sibling does shit that pisses them off so instead they take it out on you? It's like he gets some sort of sick satisfaction from abusing me. Did I mention he stands and listens outside my door like a creep? (Caught him standing outside under my window just creeping too) I can't even take a shower when my dad's home cause he tries to find any reason to try and fight with me so he can turn the water off and fight // see me in a towel, it's REALLLY disturbing...

It's funny 'cause he'll yell at me and tell me he's going to kick me out (When he's the one who told me to move back in after I had already moved into my own apartment; long story the people upstairs wouldn't stop partying, which was a problem for me since I was working full time. I vented to my sister who told him and he offered to do the basement so I could "save up for collage and save up for my own place again" but I was a fool to actually believe him, really a fool. When has he ever helped me, ever? When has he ever been JUST nice to me? Can't even think of ONE time.. I should have never moved back into this abusive household...) for JUST TAKING A SHOWER. Literally, I just got kicked out of the shower that was only 15mins long and his reasoning "You're in there an hour!" Really? 'Cause I have to time my showers since this isn't the first time he has done this and I was rushing to be out before 20mins but nope, water is cut off. My brother can take a literal 30-an hour shower and his girlfriend someone who doesn't even live here can take a separate shower whenever but I try to take a shower once or twice a week (while he's home) and EVERY TIME, I'm harassed. (This is why I have to take showers when no one is home but I worked out late and wanted to take a quick one, thought I'd be safe but I can never feel safe around that sociopath.. Needed to get some more footage of his harassment so at least I have that for my lawyer...)

It's kind of like how during this past summer when it was hot as fuck outside, I wasn't allowed to use the AC BUT when my brother was home HE was allowed to use it. My dad would go crazy on me if I put it down just so the fan's on just to be able to breathe in the heat but wouldn't even bother my brother about it and then when the weather became cooler and cold enough outside where you don't need AC on, my brother was still using it and received no harassment! But oh no, if Janine puts it on the world has to end. Sexist. Another example: I used to work for his business and would try to go above and beyond with customer service and do what was needed so his company would sound professional and maybe if I did well enough he wouldn't treat me like shit for once for actually doing a good job but no, just a burden to let me work for our family business so he let me go and instead HIRED RANDOM OLD LADIES WHO DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THEY WERE DOING!! Lmao, let's not trust your own daughter who has experience in the field and has been employee of the month at past jobs but trust these people who don't even know how to work a computer. He let's my brothers work for him and gives them money even though he KNOWS he's enabling their drug problems right now and he gets pissed when they're on drugs at work but instead of confronting them about it and actually being a parent he comes and harass's ME, WHAT DID I DO?! YOU'RE MAD CAUSE YOU'RE GIVING THEM MONEY AND THEN THEY GO OUT PARTYING AND CAN'T WORK THE NEXT DAY BUT YOU YELL AT ME INSTEAD, WHERE IS THE LOGIC??!!?! WHERE??!?! MADNESS!!! INSANITY!!! I don't even want to talk about my brothers with this situation but it needs to be said not to call them out but to show how he mistreats me cause he's so sexist and harrass's me EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

"I didn’t grow up in a stable home. My childhood wasn’t filled with catching fireflies outside nor did it involve chasing down the ice cream man. It involved self induced paranoia and sleepless nights where I had to become my own vigilante- keeping an eye out for the monster that did not live in my closet nor underneath my bed. This monster didn’t have razor sharp claws or scaly skin, this monster was much scarier. This monster was a human being and he slept right across the hallway from me."

I wish my mom never met this piece of shit, to think I could not even be born right now and not have to be dealing with this constant abuse, I don't even know anyone else who deals with constant harassment from their father like this, he's OBSESSED with trying to destroy me. To think my mom could have been in a normal relationship and actually been able to enjoy her life instead of dealing with this psychopath's obsession to tear down and destroy other's, including his own family. No wonder we weren't allowed to get close to his side of the family, he was afraid we'd find out the truth of how disgustingly cruel of a person he is, too bad ended up figuring it out the hard way.. "No child asks to be born. There is no excuse to treat them like a burden when their existence was YOUR decision.."

"I will not regret venting about this on going harassment, he's not sorry for harming me so I don't feel guilty for venting about his abuse. I have the right to protect myself and document what this toxic person puts me through even though they're "family." They already had their chance to be a decent human being but choose to continue to show their true colors over and over."

"I should have learnt the definition of abuse from a dictionary. You didn’t have to teach me what it meant."

"Why do I get outcasted from society and not my abusers? Why is society happily willing to aid and accept and adore abusers? Why do abusers easily get all and any resources, support, validation, acceptance and love? And victims are denied all of it and backed into corner and forced to pay for abuser’s crimes? Do I really need to deal with being rejected and unwanted by society on top of being abused? Do I have to watch the entire world side with my abusers? Is it never enough?"

"Enough excuses for parents who abused their kids but “meant the best”. They “meant the best” for themselves, not for the kids. It’s fucking easy to just rely on emotional abuse, threats, humiliation, shame, guilt and violence to get your way and to force your kid to stay in control and to sabotage and fuck up the child’s life so you would feel good about it, and then to just remind yourself “i meant the best” to feel no guilt about doing so whatsoever. Just repeating to yourself “it doesn’t hurt them” and “they deserved it” while actively forcing your child to keep all the obvious trauma symptoms out of sight or ensuring the child believes it’s their own damn fault for feeling the way they do.

You know what’s not easy? Having your parent force control of your life via emotional abuse, threats, shame, humiliation, violence. Your parent getting into your own head and gas-lighting your senses until you feel worthless and insane and like a monster, until you don’t dare to feel your own feelings, until you’re ashamed of the pain you feel and can’t see yourself as anything other than a horrible burden and nothing you do can ever change that or make you good enough. You know what’s even harder? Still believing that your parent “meant the best” and not even daring to blame them and still being forced to draw the conclusion that it was after all, all your fault, for existing as you do, for being who you are, for not ever being good enough! And then, on top of all of it, hearing the rest of the world agree with the parent’s view, pressuring you to never blame them, to forgive them, to never hold them responsible, to “be better” and understand them, to not ever try to place blame on anyone but yourself because then you’re the monster.

Just. How. Is. One. Supposed. To. Heal. From. That.

Healing can’t even begin until the blame is placed on the parent! This person literally benefited from their child’s suffering! They did not get affected negatively from it at all, they didn’t even care, they walked away satisfied and getting what they wanted while the child now has a lifetime of traumatic consequences and mental illness problems! Their freedom is taken away, their quality of life reduced, their relationships and friendships sabotaged, their confidence crushed! They’re placed at extra risk for addictions and obsessions because they keep falling into the black pit of trauma no matter how hard they try to distract and their life is heavy and painful no matter how well they do afterwards! Their brain can’t regulate stress properly anymore! Abuse causes literal brain damage and all this is just so the parents would get their way! And you all still insist they shouldn’t feel guilty about it or be faced with consequences of their abuse? They shouldn’t fucking admit to themselves and to their children what they’ve done? If the truth will kill them, let them die. Abused children’s right to heal comes way before the abusers feeling good about themselves."

"Living in the same place as a toxic person, especially toxic family member, is exhausting and damaging full time, not only while they’re abusing you directly, but at every moment because you just know they want to hurt you and even while they’re not doing it, you know they’re planning to, and you have no idea what to expect and when it will happen and how big the damage is going to be, being kept in uncertainty and constant expectation of abuse can drive you insane. It’s actually worse when they’re temporarily nice because you don’t even know what to make of it, it gets harder and harder to call them out or confront them, especially if they use fake niceness to manipulate others’ general opinion of them and to invalidate your claims of abuse. So even if the abuse is rare and the rest of the time they somewhat leave you alone or play nice, stress and anxiety is full time, incapability to stop or even voice their actions gets worse and piles up until you feel helpless and like you’re somehow in the wrong and accusing the abuser wont get you anywhere but makes you look bad instead.

Living in these conditions long term will fundamentally change your own perception of yourself, and the sense of your own importance and value, often it will result in trauma as well. Just knowing that you’re in environment that continually allows someone to hurt you, and even supports it, forces you to accept that the world considers hurting you something that is natural and normal and should be done. How wouldn’t that cause anxiety and feelings of unsafely and abandonment and of low self worth? It’s fucking terrifying you mean so little to this world they would have you destroyed just because someone felt like destroying you."

This quote always helps me through times like these..

"You don’t owe your family affection if they are being abusive and treating you poorly. I know that it’s so difficult not to feel guilty for holding back that love. I know that there are people who will tell you that you should just grin and bear it because they’re family. People who will shame you for the way you feel. People who will try to convince you that wanting to take care of yourself in this way is selfish and unjustified. But the truth is that it’s not your responsibility to be kind or loving to people who have consistently hurt and mistreated you – especially when these people continue to disregard your feelings, ignore your boundaries, and refuse to take responsibility for their behavior. Just because the person hurting you is family doesn’t make them an exception.

Choosing not to be affectionate with family who have abused or mistreated you doesn’t make you a bad person. It isn’t selfish or disrespectful. It’s a form of self-care. It’s about you honoring your feelings and holding people accountable for their abuse. It’s about you standing up for yourself and your needs. It’s about you making your mental health a priority. So if getting distance from certain family members is what you need right now, or permanently, then you have every right to withhold your love and leave. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for the sake of maintaining a relationship. And you don’t ever have to apologize for creating a safer space for yourself."

The harrasment and abuse just doesn't end, he just went psycho on me again for brushing my damn teeth, I'm not even doing anything wrong!!!

[autismus-obscurus]

On self-dx

A while ago, someone asked me privately to tell them why I was clearly pro self-dx. It's a question I have seen a lot. It's a complex topic and there's a lot of misconceptions about what self-dx even is. Here's a slightly adapted version of my answer (under a cut so I don’t clog your dash). If anyone else has something to add, please do.

Also, TW: swearing. Sorry not sorry, It's just how I talk.

First off, we have to define what self-dx even is. Self dx is NOT googling "autism symptoms", reading one list, and the deciding "oh I'm autistic, lets go beg for pity". I can't speak for all autistics, but I don't fucking want pity. That's not the point of saying you're autistic. I just want to live without constant overload, okay? Lets go a bit more into detail: I’m very clearly pro self-dx, but I will not take someone seriously who takes one test and reads one blog post and then decides “I’m autistic.” That’s not how this works. Self-dx means hours upon hours of reading blogs, of reading articles, of checking the criteria again and again (cynically said, you're checking off a list, we'll get to that again later on), of asking autistics about every tiny trait you suspect could point towards or against it, of self doubt, of hope, of finding autistics spreading positivity or Autism Speaks / Autism Moms(TM) telling you you’re a monster. It’s emotionally draining as fuck. Self-dx is a search for identity. It’s trying to find out why your life is the way it is, why you are a certain way and how to cope with problems in a way that doesn’t do any more damage.

This line of thought goes in hand with another tumblr thing: Many people shit on self-dx because there's this nearly immortal assumption that people self-dx because it’s “cool” to be mentally ill. It’s not. Admittedly, teenagers are fucking weird and maybe some genuinely think they are ill when they are not, but I'm convinced that is the minority at best. Also, when we get to the point of preteneding to be sick that’s a legitimate disorder in itself. (Münchhausen or imposter’s syndrome. I've heard it called pathological lying, but that's quite a bit different and also a disorder that people cannot control and need help for.)

Let's look at a few statistics. In Europe 30% of people are officially diagnosed with a disorder under the ICD-10 / DSM-V. 75% of mental disorders start in adolescence (according to a German survey, BGS 98; here's also a link to the offical WHO page with statistics: HERE). The survey does not include those who are too ashamed to get help, who have no access to help, who are just not taken serious or have to fear abuse if it becomes known. Autism is not a mental disorder, obviously, but the staggering majority of autistics in the past was diagnosed as a child and face many of the same problems. (I’ll get to why the diagnosis age is a problem for autistic people in general in a second.) Now imagine finding a community of people who understand you, who can give you actually helpful tips, and you don’t have to reveal your identity. Anything classified as abnormal is still a taboo. People don’t believe you or make jokes about you. Example: I had to fight for an autism diagnosis because my dad, and I quote, says “there is nothing wrong with you”. No, there’s not, but I’m still autistic. That’s the mindset people apply to any neurodivergence. As to the matter of why so many people on the internet claim to be neurodivergent / mentally ill, I have a theory of my own. I can’t prove it, but it makes sense for me. Many neurodivergencies make it hard to go out. I’m introverted as hell, and often don't have the spoons to go out. So what do I do? I spend my life at home, browsing the internet. It takes me so much less effort to keep contact with people than if I had to go out and meet them. No sensory overload, nothing unexpected will happen. Meanwhile, the healthy people and extroverts are out and about having fun their own way. And, coming back to the community, on here it’s a lot easier to express your thoughts, especially on taboo topics.

Example: I think reading this text we can agree that my English (my second language) is reasonably good and that I’m a logical, intelligent person that can express arguments in an ordered manner. Right? Well, if you would be talking to me face to face, I would probably not make a whole lot of sense. I stutter, I lose trains of thoughts, I fall over my vocabulary, my pronunciation is often wobbly and then I will inevitably panic and make even less sense (this goes for talking in my L1 as well, in case anyone wonders). I’m not dumb, but face to face communication is hard.

Next up, the issue with psychologists and getting diagnosed. There is this pervasive notion that pschologists are The Authority (TM) who know everything and nobody else can be as good as them. Here's the thing: Psychologists are human. They’re not omniscient. And sometimes those psychologists are just shit. They can be sexist, and racist, and narcissistic. They can be condescending, and unable to admit they doN't know enough about a topic, and flat out ignore new evidence because it doesn’t fit their worldview. Go in the actuallyautistic tag. The amount of people who are dismissed by their therapists because this so called professional “has a feeling” they’re not autistic is ridiculous. Feelings don’t matter. Only the diagnostic interview matters, but the patients are denied that because a psychologist trusts his gut more than science. Without a decent self-dx it will be pretty hard to get diagnosed as a teenager or adult. On top of that, once you have learned to pass, autistic traits get lost or suppressed for fear of punishment. Often you have to convince them to test you with a detailed list that describes how you fit the DSM criteria. Which is by definition already a self-dx. "Oh, but psychologist are trained for that, surely they know!!!!!11!" I’m a psychology student. I just got an A in my clinical psychology class. I'll write my thesis in clinical psychology probably. The amount of diagnoses you have to learn does not allow to go in depth of anything. What a psychologist does is listen to you and check boxes on a list. (Sound familiar? I said we'd get there again.) We didn't even talk about autism. I did a presentation on it, found out my course teacher doesn't even know ABA is harmful (his point was "well the literature says it's effective"; Are You Kidding?). Our paedagogy prof spewed some ableist phrases pitying her friend that has an autistic kid. The perks of being an undercover autistic person :))) (That's sarcasm.)

To get back to the point: An ableist at worst, at best uneducated psychologist decides if you’re autistic, solely on what they have been told. The amount of posts that goes "I was denied diagnosis because I have good grades / are a girl / have friends / can talk" is ridiculous.

Example: I was in therapy three times until I was fifteen and NONE of them got the idea I might be autistic, despite me showing pretty severe symptoms. I had to self-dx and then convince my therapist to test me. I only even got that idea because we watched Rain Man in school. Seriously? Who knows you better: You or a psychologist you know for an hour?

Okay, before I get carried off, all of that assumes you actually get as far as being tested. To get there, it requires parents to listen to their kid. Parents typically don’t want anything to be wrong with their kid. (There’s nothing wrong with being autistic, but too many people still think that.)

Example: My dad still doesn’t believe I’m autistic. My diagnosis was four years ago. Because, I quote, “There’s nothing wrong with you.” No there’s not, but that doesn’t make me allistic.

The amount of stereotypes and ableist myths is staggering. Autism is one of the most misunderstood conditions I’ve ever researched. The DSM criteria are shit. They are, since decades, based on boys. They’re very limited, and while not wrong, describe things in a way that makes it hard for people to find "atypical" examples (stereotypical interests = trains). What about girls obsessed with horses? Nobody thinks that’s abnormal, yet it’s very possible. There are still a ton of people who think girls cannot be autistic, or if they are, to use the ableist principles this idea is founded on, they have to be “low-functioning”. The truth is, even the diagnostic interviews can’t pick up on autistic girls very well, that is a known fact. (Look at this link for example: HERE) I have most of those posts tagged either as info or ableism, but I don't have the spoons to check right now and my internet is shit.) To paraphrase the article and the other sources I know: Most autistic females just fly under the radar because they’re better at adapting and hiding it. That doesn’t have to be a conscious effort, but it’s exhausting, and then you sit there as a teenager and wonder why you’re feeling like shit because you never learned healthy autistic coping machanisms (or got punished for them).

Example: I didn’t learn of stimming, of dyspraxia, of sensory processing issue and literally everything that had defined my daily life until I found the autsitic community. I don’t think my therapist ever heard of that and I was labeled too “high-functioning” to actually get help. I managed, and back then I was fine, or thought I was after the depression wore off. I’m paying the price for that now.

People of color and women are severely mis- and underdiagnosed in literally everything medical. Teenagers are very rarely taken seriously, especially girls. Some people don’t believe autism exists at all. Now, assume somebody has understanding parents or teachers or is an adult, and could, thoretically go to a doctor to get diagnosed. Because (paraphrasing the original ask here) by validating self-dx we only push the notiion that you don't need a doctor to be diagnosed (which is again the Autority Lane (TM)). Well, yes, it would be preferable to get an official diagnosis, for the accomodations alone, but there is a shitton of reasons not to.

Example: I am currently undiagnosed. How so? My therapist made a deal with my parents that we would not write down the diagnosis, to prevent it from bringing me trouble. At first I was like “that’s ableist bullshit”. It’s not. Well, it still involves a lot of ableism, but there are a lot of reasons why I have to weigh if getting a diagnosis is worth it, even though I clearly need the help right now.

Here is a list of good reasons why someone could choose not to get professionally diagnosed:

money (in Germany healthcare is mostly free, but in the US getting a diagnosis can cost several thousand dollar)

autistic people are at a much higher risk of abuse, and don’t get taken as seriously (see ABA therapy and Autism Moms)

With an autism diagnosis you can be instituationalized far easier against your will (that works with almost all mental diagnoses)

In Germany you will have a harder time getting an insurance, they will make you pay more and don’t provide certain services e.g. You want an insurance for when you become unable to work, you know, like almost everyone has? Yeah, forget about it, autistic people don’t get that.

It can be used against you when you get in a fight about your kids’ custody

Medical ableism is a thing. You can have everything from a cold to cancer, from depression to borderline, it’s all The Autism. Autistic people are often seen as not having enough insight into their own body and mind to judge their own body (just like women, so as an autistic woman you're fucked twice as much :))) )

Getting a job outside of “supportive” businesses (read: they want Rain Man. They’re IT businesses who want autistic programmers and engineers, everyone else is pretty much fucked.) will be almost impossible. Autism is a disability and nobody wants disabled people past what the necessary quota is.

In the psych field there are no officially diagnosed people I know of, one researcher’s work was discredited when it came out she was autistic. I was already warned several times that I should hide my autism if I wanted to get a job at all.

basically, people are shit and can and will use your diagnosis against you

Lastly, I don’t really understand why people are so hateful towards the self-dx crowd. I can’t prove that there’s no black sheep, but most of them are people who look to improve their lives and better their mental health. Let’s put it like this:

The anti-self dx crowd: Only psychologists can tell if you’re autistic. Self-dx: I think I’m autistic. Antis: How dare you! I can clearly tell you’re not autistic. Fuck off, faker.

Call me cynic, but that is the core of reason most anti-self-dxers apply. Who the hell gave them the authority to judge other people? How do you know what a person is going through from reading two posts on tumblr? This isn’t some elite club. That kind of thinking ostracizes us even more when we alread have to fight so hard to be allwoed to live. Who are the self-dxers hurting? The ableists treat us like shit anyway. And honestly? I’d rather let in five fakers than have an autistic person suffer alone because of they can’t “prove” they’re autistic.

Dev out.

[newhologram]

“mind over matter” = spoonie torture?

Been thinking a lot lately how this dangerous this attitude about pain is... the one where doctors, family, and friends think that if only we could *~change our attitude~* about the pain, then we would be magically pain free and no longer disabled.

It’s simply not true. 

And I’m now realizing that for years, I was essentially being tortured by my doctors and this attitude and the kinds of harmful idea it gives people who don’t experience chronic, debilitating pain. 

They made me endure so much pain for years without actual pain meds, or treatment other than antidepressants. Each doctor appointment was just pressuring me into trying other pills, since the pain was making my already existing depression dip into very dangerous places again. Hello, the several times I can count (even in the past month) that I went to go kill myself in the past almost 5 years... not counting all the days I spent paralyzed in bed because I was overwhelmed with the urge to die because it’s all I knew what to do to make the pain stop and I wanted to stop being a burden to everyone around me. I felt that to die would be to set my family free and let them have happy lives. I was willing to make that sacrifice because I saw myself as less than dirt because I was sick. Pain fucks with your head BIG TIME.

Yes, our brains feel the pain, but this pain isn’t just a random psychological thing. Frankly, it doesn’t matter if the pain is just “nerves going haywire” like the docs told me was all my fibromyalgia pain was (when really, it was fibromyalgia + colitis + narcolepsy + literally growing up with a borked spine, all of which cause widespread body pain!! hello!!! you went to school for how many years?!!). It doesn’t matter if the pain “doesn’t have a source” like they made me believe.

When someone is in so much pain that it disrupts their life, they need help, not scolding. The ER doctor told me I just needed to be stronger and get therapy. My dad repeatedly over the years told me that I just “had to get better” because me being sick was so inconvenient for him. HAD TO get better, as if I was doing something wrong. As if it was just me not being mentally strong enough to handle the pain, when it was literally exhausting, searing spinal and fullbody pains tearing me apart on a daily basis, year-round.

It made me feel even more like a failure. Like I wasn’t strong enough since I couldn’t do “mind over matter” and just magically not feel the horrible pain anymore even though I worked so hard at meditation and self-care. I was nothing, nothing, nothing.

Yes, things like meditation and other coping techniques can be hugely important and helpful for allowing us to adjust to a life in constant pain. You guys know that I meditate, I journal, I have badbrain wrangling techniques, I do visualizations and positivity practice. I work really hard at it because my brain is traumatized mush that thinks weird things constantly. There is so much I do under the surface, on top of all my supplements and self-care routines and treatments, just to lower my pain levels even for only a few minutes. 

But this “oh just change your attitude about it! = cured!!” idea about what pain is nearly killed me. Not the illnesses themselves, but the ideas around them. 

I’m still trying to reconcile the fact that so many times, I almost went and took my own life, because I was so so so so sick and suffering, and everyone just treated me like it was my fault for not being strong willed enough to make the pain go away with my own brainpower. 

Bullshit. We are so strong willed to make it through each day in pain. We aren’t weak for needing relief. Pain fucking sucks. Being in bed all day in horrible pain fucking sucks.

This is a conversation I want to be having on a much bigger scale, because every time I see another damn spoonie suicide in the news, it breaks my fucking heart. None of us should be dying like that just because doctors and non-spoonies are so dense that they see us suffering and tell us it’s just a problem with us as people. No cure does not mean no relief. 

I appreciate that people compliment me and say that I’m “very strong” but I don’t really believe in that idea of strength because it implies that those who lost the fight were weak. I very nearly became just another sad story in the news. I almost lost the fight. I was almost “weak”.

I was suffering. It’s torture, to make us live this way and to tell us that we just need to change our way of thinking and if that doesn’t work then it’s our fault and we’re just weak and we “HAVE” to get better because we’re ruining things for our families. 

It’s part of a package. People in pain need treatment, care, relief from the pain, AND help with the mental and emotional part of it. 

Please please please be there for your spoonie loved ones. The ones who suffer in silence are usually the ones we lose. Don’t mistake the silence for a lack of pain. I’ve been pretty vocal about this from the start and I devoted a lot of effort to teaching people about these illnesses and to helping guide other people who are just as lost as I was. But even then, I could have been lost too. 

There will be pain that we have to deal with anyway, but it doesn’t mean we have to endure torture every single day just because most of the world doesn’t get it. Most will never understand what it’s like to live every day in pain, especially as young people. We can still educate them. We can still help with awareness, even in small ways. 

Spoonies, please reach out if you’re struggling. It sounds cheesy, but you’re really not alone and it’s my promise that I will bring our lives to the front page so that more people will know we exist and how badass we are. Hang in there.

[theredmae-blog]

My life with bi polar

Imagine not being able to believe your own brain. The thoughts and feelings that you believe are real... aren’t. Nothing is ever what it seems and you are at constant war with your own mind about what you think and feel. The exhaustion that comes from the ever day battle of trying to figure out what reality is.

It isn’t existentialism that I went through a few months ago, it was my acceptance of my mental illness. Who am I? Why am I here? There may be existential questions but for me they were based on the fact that without meds, real isn’t real. Why do I have to take 3 diff meds several times a day to be “me”.... and if I have to take pills to be me... then am I real? Why do I only exists when I’m on meds. And which pill actually makes me me? My anxiety pill? My depression pill? Or my antipsychotic pill? Does it have to be all three that come together to formulate me? What if I had 3 diff pills? Would I be some diff variation of myself?.... am I in some parallel universe of pills and diff varieties of me. Can I have infinite versions of myself and I can pick the combo of meds that make me just the right version of myself?

I just want to feel as if I’m not so big phony. But the truth is these pills make it so I’m not a black hole of reality distortion sucking up everybody’s light around me and spewing out fucked up delusions like some quasar. These pills make me tolerable to be around me and relate to me on a not so psychotic level.

I remember always feeling as if I would be happiest completely alone. Would often say dream about how nice it would be to live some mad bomber type of exsistance in a cabin in the woods or in some tent in a homeless community or locked up in solitary confinement in prison (not for a violent crime). Where I didn’t have to worry about the drain of actually having to be a responsible adult and a sane one.

Being in my own head all of the time zaps me to my core and makes everyday things like getting dressed seem daunting. The constant nag of trying to figure out what reality is and what is just my brain lying to me makes being a mom and more recently am employed member of society, so overwhelming.

I want to feel as if I am doing more than faking my way through life, merely surviving one day to the next. I’m not asking for an easy life, just one where I am not always second guessing my thoughts, my feelings and the motives of those in my life.

Imagine genuinely thinking the closest people in your life are always plotting against you and are using you for their own agendas. And believing that to your core to the point you can’t help but push them away because no matter how much you love them you believe they don’t give a damn about you. This is my reality. It’s me against the world, literally and not some pseudo inspirational, positive, strong woman thing. My brain really tells me everybody is out to get me and make me look like a fool. That I’m nothing more than a means to a end, whether that is a better sex life, care taker for their kids, care taker for themselves, to make their lives easier while I run myself ragged keeping it all together while I die inside.

I’m good at pretending stuff doesn’t bother me, that I’m not constantly at war within myself. Nobody has noticed the battle I fight every day. The fear and frustration. The inescapable exhaustion that follows me.

I put on my mask and try and escape my reality. To fake it til I make it. But not any more. I want to deal with it til I make it. To learn about my reality not run from it. To not fear that people will reject me because of it. To find people who are willing to stand next to me and help me fight the war I wage against my thoughts and feelings and not be afraid of them. I’m not afraid of letting people in anymore. I know having true and real people in my life is one step to proving to myself that sometimes my thoughts lie. My feelings lie.

[eyesaremosaics]

A few nights ago, my depression was so severe, that I drove to the Golden Gate Bridge. I sat there in my car for three hours straight. Just sat there quietly in the darkness, thinking, staring at the steering wheel. Feeling nothing. Like an echo would go right through my chest. My eyes focused on the lights from the bridge, my heart hammering in my head, praying for the courage. Silent tears, streaming my face. Barely able to breathe, my chest aches so deeply, like I have a collapsed lung or something. I know I am loved. I know people care. People keep telling me wonderful things. That I'm loved, that I am special, that I'm talented, that I am touched by fire. Yet I can't see it. I can't feel it. There is no getting close to it for me. When someone tells me I am beautiful, my heart breaks with rage. My self hatred is so deep, that compliments infuriate me. I cannot conceive of any of these words attributed to me. It feels surreal, not genuine. Just words. "Why can't other people see me for what I really am?" That's my inner dialogue. How sick is that? Slept through work today. It's a miracle I didn't get fired. Thank god the Healy's are so understanding. Robin is unfailingly kind and compassionate. Yesterday, received word that I've been dragged into a nasty court case. The director of a theatre company I worked for over two years ago, filed me as secretary on the board of directors. He is being sued for fraud, and now that my name is on there, I'm liable for the damages. Have to get a lawyer, which I can't afford. More fun shit to deal with. Can barely afford food right now. My heart is still fucking broken. No hope for the future at all, I wake up every day and feel worse than the day before it. I only have one week left with the boys I have nannied for, we've been together for seven years... Been through so much together... Their mothers death, their grandmothers death of a broken heart less than a month later. Not to mention... Every break up, my dads cancer, Jenny's death... They comforted and loved me through all of it. They feel like my children. I have been their surrogate mother ever since Christy passed away. I can't conceive of my life without them. Letting go... Is the biggest challenge in life for me. I feel like I am literally incapable of doing it. I can't let go. Of anyone, or anything. Ever! I leave claw marks on anything that tries to leave my life. Abandonment issues so strong... They induce borderline psychosis in me. Still haven't found a long term replacement family to take Eric and John's slot. There are no words for how much I am going to miss them. No words. I can't even process it, my brain can't handle the separation at all. Every time I think of it, I start to have a panic attack. I can't breathe. All the air has been squeezed from my lungs, tightness in my chest, vision goes black. It feels like I'm literally dying. Anyone who's had a panic attack, knows how horrible the feeling is. So many endings. All at once. It always happens that way, doesn't it? Self care is paramount right now. Please universe: bring me a warm loving family, that will hire me long term for a lot of money. So I can afford to go back to school, to better market myself professionally and get my career rolling in a positive direction. I am ready to be in the having now universe, not the wanting. I am ready for good things. For a successful artistic career, for inspiring, warm, loving friends I can trust, for a community to immerse myself in, to travel, join a gym, get medication, see my therapist more often, to turn my life around. To meet someone successful, kind, and loving towards me. Who loves me as much as I love them, who I have an amazing sexual intimacy with, who cares about my dreams, who supports me, shares my interests, likes to go out. Someone who wants to be with me, and only me. Not five or six other girls. I want to be enough for someone. More than enough, I want to light up their life with my love. No more possessive, controlling, judgmental, philandering, demoralizing, abusive, negligent, manipulative, trust-less, limiting, unrequited love relationships. Fuck that. I have lived through so many of those, I will not survive it another time. I have no clue what a healthy relationship even looks like. Went out on a date the other day, the guy went to put his arm around me, and I winced involuntarily. How sick is that? When someone is being kind to me, it goes in one ear and out the other. Like I didn't even hear it, or it didn't even happen. My brain can't compute it. It can't register, because it is not used to it. Especially not from men. I am distrusting. My assumption now is: you just want me for sex. You just want to use me for something. So they keep calling after the first few dates, all obsessed with me, and I just stop responding to texts. I just ghost people out. I don't mean to, I just... Can't deal with it. These dates I've been on... There is just no connection there--for me. They seem to find me fascinating, but I am beyond bored. It's unkind for me to continue when I am not feeling it. At this point, I fear men so much that I can't even hate them. I feel like a caged rabbit, and start kicking my legs helplessly when they try to pick me up. Just so very overwhelmed right now. Tired of fighting so hard to exist. Tired of trying so hard, and feeling like nothing is getting better. It feels completely hopeless. What people do not understand about manic depression, is how Fucking hard it is just to make it through each day. Every day, I think about killing myself. Some days, it is all I think about. Everything becomes so black, you cannot conceive of a tomorrow. People who don't wrestle with mental illness, don't understand. One minute you are trotting along, feeling like your higher self. Giving your light in abundance, so that you inspire the best in others. Everything falls into place, magic starts happening for you. You feel strong, vital and beautiful. You feel witty, charming, and full of energy. Like the bubbles in a glass of sparkling champagne. Full of so much life, and passion. You go to bed, and the next morning...it's like the sun has been eclipsed from the sky. The clouds are heavy, and everything fades to gray. Food becomes flavorless, inedible. Your heart sinks like a stone into the river. Your chest begins to flood, until the ribs crack as floorboards under pressure. The ocean spilling through the hull, sinking the ship of your heart. It is violent, this feeling. Like a jolt of electricity coursing through you repeatedly. It feels like being slowly tortured. It is without your control. People say: just get over it. Just move on. Just feel better. Just love yourself. Uh, fuck you, I literally can't. I feel at the mercy of my emotions. They overtake me like a hurricane. Like a storm raging inside me. A war in my mind. People peering in on a private moment from the outside...to them I just come off as annoying. Every day that goes by... I can see myself getting older. My hair is already turning gray, from stress and malnourishment. My mother pointed something out to me earlier on the phone: "it's hard for you to relax, because you live in a constant state of stress. You are stuck on survival mode. Living paycheck to paycheck." Yes. Exactly. Please bring me more money universe. I want to be able to afford to enjoy my life. My whole life we've been poor. At one point, we were grindingly poor. I hate living in this constant energy of starvation, deprivation, of not having. No more. I'm tired of living like that. So fucking exhausting. I'm also tired of loving people more than they love me. I'm tired of being cheated on, treated badly, put down, ignored, unwanted, manipulated, gaslighted, told I'm too much, that I'm crazy, that I'm unloveable. I'm tired of believing that garbage, because I do. I really do. I'm tired of crying, of aching, of feeling not good enough. I hate that I don't feel deserving of love. I'm so sick of hating myself, every second of everyday and wishing I could just die. I'm sick of it. It's so exhausting to go back and fourth With myself as I do. I want to live, I want to die. I'm amazing, I'm worthless. I'm silly and playful, I'm bitter and angry. When I go over the limit with my drinking... God. It's like I channel some demon. A demon comes through me, and it is mean and cruel. Bleeding hearts like mine, are like an open wound to the world. We are 3rd degree burns exposed to steam. Everything hurts. We are a dead star, a black hole, a swallowing cesspool. Left unloved, we die, or disappear. I want to love myself, I really do want to get better. I just don't know where to start. I truly don't see my own value. It is not a cry for attention, or pity party thing, I really don't see anything in me worth loving. How do I change that? I try affirmations, I try exercise, I try listing all my supposed "good" qualities. It just feels empty and meaningless. I force myself to do it, but it doesn't absorb. All this shitty luck is just exacerbating the problem. It is making my suicidal depression ten times worse. I can literally feel the cortisol bubbling inside me. Like a cancer. So creepy. My skin looks aged, I can see the lines forming in my face. I drink to numb out, which of course only makes things worse. Chain smoking, not eating. It's just a mess. Horrible nightmares, making me fearful of sleep. Lack of sleep=deepening depression. Fuck me, I just can't. At the end of my rope here. Trying so hard to change things for the better. There is all this red tape in my way. Money, time, roadblocks. Go to this window, fill out these forms, wait a month to hear back, on hold with elevator music. Fuck. It's like waiting in the cafeteria line for some slop in prison. Trudging along, doing your boring duty, day in and day out. Numb with the monotony of it all. Please universe, please let this difficult time of transition pass without pushing me over the edge. Please bring love and joy to my life. So tired of suffering.

[twopintsandaprayer]

i’m going to mainline some tylenol and forget that this whole afternoon existed

I see a therapist, like a real live person, at the beginning of may. I’m so utterly petrified that I’m going to say the wrong thing and undermine the help that I need. I wish, like I always do, like I have always, always wished that I knew the right thing to say and the right way to act. I need to be honest, and calm, and somehow condense my 20 plus years of medical history and my fucked-up family life into a succinct, half-hour session. I have to trust this person immediately, be open, be attentive. that’s ...a tall order. like I said, I’m petrified that I won’t say what I’m supposed to in order to make my case and I’ll be dropped from priority. I come across as....well, as not really that ill.  My psychiatrist called me defensive and combative. which I am. it’s not a pleasant trait but my god its firmly in there.  I’ve been living with depression since I was about 10 but it’s not...not very visible. It takes a very long time for that sadness to be apparent to someone else. It comes across as hostility and nihilistic humour, to be honest. I don’t like admitting it to myself, how deeply this combination of futility/self-loathing goes. It comes on like it’s never left. I think I failed my exam today. I’ve been contemplating dropping out of school completely because I don’t really see the point in continuing. the margin for error is so so small and I am unforgiving towards any mistakes when I could have tried so much harder. I don’t really know how to fight, you know? And it’s all so horrible, self-reinforcing. I know, point-blank, I have no reason to be like this. Yeah, emotional abuse from my father and my mother probably is autistic and is entirely too logical and judgmental for a fuck up like me as a daughter. also she was horribly horribly emotionally abused for like, a long ass time. - like I learned no coping skills or emotional regulation and I have like, negative self-worth and I have always been super super intense, childish, and the last to pick up on any emotional cues. that’s all pretty small stuff though, like everyone has a shitty childhood? my life has been pretty privileged, I cannot deny that at all. my psychiatrist keeps looking for trauma, reasons for me being like this. I don’t...really know how to explain to him that there’s no real reason, I’ve just always been this way. too loud, too close, too possessive, too needy, too young, too slow, too judgmental, too constantly seeking validation. Wholly, completely self-centered. Emotionally manipulative. I look into my memories and there is barely anything real, it’s all just a miasma of anxiety and talking over people. like, I don’t remember what things were like when I liked myself? I must have, at some point. I don’t remember when doing stuff didn’t fill me with fear, when the memories of good times weren’t tainted by my fuckups. And the constant, constant need to be liked, to have some kind of purpose, connection, something real. Some reason to keep getting up and putting myself through all this. The amount of friendships I have ruined or that have slipped through my fingers, or I have undervalued, or I have strained, just by being me. I never, ever, know it’s going to happen until it does. There’s an inevitability to it. I mean, my father was a lovely person, until you got to know him. He would give you the shirt off his back but he’d never, ever apologize for anything. We were all happier when he lived on a separate continent. IK mean, we talked all the time and we saw him a couple times a year. But the day to day living? That’s...that’s the kind of distance my presence requires. He knew he made us that unhappy. He was so terribly unhappy himself. He had plenty of reasons. I miss him a lot. We’re basically the same person. Unhappiness just kind of oozes out, infecting everyone around us. It’s hard to see at first. But it’s there. You feel it once you get to know me. 

How do I describe that to someone I don’t know? I can barely describe it to myself. I can barely type it without crying. How inevitable and ingrained this unhappiness is. And there’s no reason for it. It’s just...it’s like I’m missing something. Some piece of humanity that would make me real. That would make what I do sincere and normal. I know I have an issue with boundaries. I know I come across way way way way too much way too quickly.  It’s been a constant refrain since I was about 10: if only I didn’t need people, I would be all right. I don’t know what I’ve done until after the fact, until its too late. Needless, endless apologies should be my tagline. 

it’s just so horribly lonely. I’m so tired of being alone. I’m constantly trapped by and surrounded by my own self-hatred. It’s so cliche it makes me sick of myself. I don’t have any reason to be this hard on myself. I don’t have any reason to be this depressed. I can barely qualify as having depression. I just ...don’t see any point? Of living? Of trying?  I don’t remember what it was like not to feel this way. I don’t think I was ever normal. 

it’s this constant struggle of ‘I have a mental illness’ and ‘no i’m just lazy and entitled and I don’t want to do the work I just want perfect results’ and ‘I don’t have a legitimate reason to be this way’ and ‘I really cannot handle this for another second’. My whole family is the type to say they’re fine when they are literally crying their eyes out/in severe amounts of pain/ready to collapse/at their limits. everything’s fine, fine, fine, always fine. 

i do know that in the end, the only one who can save me is me. i just don’t really see any reason to. Like, I keep grasping at straws? I can’t kill myself though, I can’t do that to my mother or my brother. The thought of living for another 40 years (I mean, my diabetic complications will probably get me sooner than that) just feels me with dread and exhaustion though. The primary reason I don’t want to have kids (other than medical, cause I’m on too much medication that’s rough on a fetus) is because I don’t want to be resentful towards my kid for having to stay alive for them. Who can I say that to? How horrible does that make me sound? What a fucking load of shite, I’m so full of it. For some stupid reason, I thought things would just be better? I thought being on meds, and having a stable life, and being back at school after fucking it up so badly the first time, that I’d be better? 

It’s a wasteland, though. The space between not wanting to live and not being able to die. It takes such constant effort to keep all my shit in check. everythin just spilling out everywhere. 

But I’m just...like this. This is just the way that I am. I’m so sick of myself. I can’t fully put it into words how much I hate myself. All these opportunities and possibilities and a life that’s been free of trauma and responsibilities, and I’m just ...kind of a waste? A big ole burden on my family and friends? It’s...the weight of that makes it hard to breathe. It makes it really hard to try to do anything and it’s so fucking stupid. Just this big old cycle of never ending uselessness. I don’t really believe I can do anything. Everything, friendships, communication, school work, organizing shit, engaging with things, meeting up with friends, keeping my life together. All of it is ...more than I’m really able to handle. Everything’s a bit too much? Like i was supposed to tell my bank that I’m a student by november. I got the letter and everything. 

I just never went with it to the bank. 

Still haven’t. 

Thats such a microcosm for my life. All the materials, all the ability, all the chances, all the ducks lined up in a row and then...nothing. Just a disappointment and a missed chance. 

I can’t believe I’m 32. Nothing but my own self-hatred to keep me company from here on it.  Well. And my cats. I am though, a bad cat owner. keeping these hellbeasts inside is more than I am capable of. Haha, that’s pretty low on the priority list though. 

This is the work that I need to do. I don’t have a clue how to approach it. That’s what I need help with. Finding something to hold on too. It’s getting harder and harder as I get older. It shouldn’t, because my life is actually so much better now that it was. The bad stuff just gets harder and harder to walk back from. I think it’s the loneliness? I wish I wasn’t so horribly horribly lonely. My choices are always, do it alone or don’t do anything at all. Reach out and be rejected. Reach out and panic when someone reaches back. Reach out and alienate the person forever. Reach out and be told it was not my place. Fail, again and again to differentiate. Fail, again and again to learn. 

anyway. Tylenol. sleep. one more week of exams. 

my marks are going to be so horrible this year. 

[zeldafreak911]

A sleepless night

You open your eyes.. it takes a minute for your brain to register the ever present fatigue. Nothing new though, it’s been 10 years now. what’s the time? Later than it’s socially acceptable to rouse on a weekday at least. You pull your exhausted body into a sitting position. Ironic isn’t it? That after a night of sleeping you can still feel tired. You wonder about how that’s possible some days. But not yet,the grogginess hasn’t cleared. It won’t for another hour or two. They call it ‘brain fog’. Funny word that, a symptom of myalgic encephalomyelitis. Or CFS/ME if you don’t speak gibberish.

Anyways, sitting up now, you put on a jumper, roll a smoke, grab your favourite lighter and put them in your pocket. You find trackies and ugg boots. Warm things; they help.

You slowly shuffle out to the kitchen. Bee-lining for the kettle. The family knows well enough now that their efforts at communication won’t be successful until post-coffee.

You make the coffee, warm up your wheatbag if it’s a particularly cold morning and you drag your feet along the ground and out to ‘your spot’ in the workshop out the back.

If today is a bad day for anxiety you’ll be fighting off the urge to vomit right about now. For no reason at all. Literally just your brain deciding to glitch out on you. A psychologist told me once that it sounded like I was anxious as soon as I wake up. That’s nice brain... just be anxious to fucking exist then.

You pull out your tin, pack a cone and smoke until you aren’t gagging and fighting the urge to throw up like before. Some days there’s no fighting it... no stopping it either. If it’s a good day you smoke as many cones as it takes until your brain is sufficiently numb.

What am I trying to numb myself from you ask?

I couldn’t honestly tell you for sure. Some days I’m curious, some days I don’t want to know and others I convince myself I’m not numbing anything. I genuinely enjoy the stuff though so no dramas there on my end.

After that you light your cigarette and take a deep breath of the sweet deathstick. You know you shouldn’t enjoy them as much as you do.. but you’ll quit eventually.

You sit outside for half an hour or so. Alternating between the coffee, cigarette and cones if you need a top up before going inside again.

Your back is already starting to hurt. Between your shoulder blade and your spine there’s a stabbing pain and there is a dull ache in the small of your back. You drape the wheatbag over your shoulder to ease the pain. It’s mainly from stress but poor posture isn’t doing you any favours. You try to sit up straight but somehow you always end up with your shoulders slouched.

Eventually you go back inside, usually once you’ve finished the coffee.. or the smoke. One or the other.

Most mornings as bad as it is, it’s part of the morning brain reboot to go out for another smoke pretty damn soon after that first one. The rest of the day you aren’t as bad but for some reason need to have two smokes in the morning or else you’re left feeling unsatisfied. Almost like you have an itch you can’t scratch.

It’s pretty similar to the first, just less cones and you probably made another coffee to take outside. Always need to have a drink out there with you or else you’ll have a coughing fit and if it’s a gagging morning then game over, you’ll throw up. Sometimes you sit out by the glass table. That way you feel the sun warming you and the wind on your skin. You watch the family of birds that likes the nectarine tree. They’ve been coming to that tree every morning for the last few years.

If it’s the right time of year there will be seagulls squawking overhead. The sky is usually clear and bright blue in springtime and summer.

You walk over to the fishpond. Well tiptoe. If the fish hear you coming they will hide. You silently peer over the edge, trying to make sure they don’t see you straight away. You see two of your favourites, Philip and Shadow. Leaning further to see them. Your foot makes a noise and they scatter. Oh well nevermind.

Occasionally you can hear your neighbour singing. He’s blind, runs on his treadmill in the garage and sings along to whatever he’s listening to. He’s pretty tone deaf but it makes me smile anyways.. he’s got the enthusiasm.

You go inside and put your tin and lighter away. By this time you’ll usually be replying to a few messages. Most mornings you’ll go and play piano; it usually speeds up the reboot of your brain.

You play whatever songs take your fancy at the time. Usually a few easy pieces that you know well to warm up your fingers. After about 10 minutes you start playing some new songs you’ve been learning and any others you have a hankering to play. You’ll play anywhere between twenty minutes to two hours.

There’s nothing I’ve found quite as useful for my mental health as playing the piano. When I’m upset I channel the negative emotions into what I’m playing. When I had a big problem with self harm and I was trying to stop I would play piano anytime I had the urge to do something. Music literally saved me in more ways than one. But damn, on my bad days I’ll play piano more beautifully than you would have ever heard before.

Usually it’s about this time you’re ready to interact with other human beings face to face. Mum is usually pottering around the kitchen or the garden, singing or humming along to you playing or complimenting you in between songs she particularly enjoys.

She will ask if you’ve had lunch yet; you’ll say not yet. Most days she won’t press you further than that. She knows if she does you will either snap at her or cry. One of the two..

Food is a touchy topic for me. I’ve got an eating disorder. My psychologist said it sounds like anorexia. Here’s the catch though.. I’ve never actually fell to the weight criteria for a proper diagnosis of anorexia. Literally I’m too fat to have the mental disorder it sounds like i have. Go figure.

So instead the category it falls into is EDNOS (eating disorder not otherwise specified). Which is basically the everything else. That being said however, my brain works the way of a person with anorexia.

Anorexia, I’m sure you’ve heard of it but you probably don’t really know much about it overall. There’s the obvious, low weight. Anorexia is the one that when you hear ‘eating disorder’, the thought that comes to mind is generally anorexics. Did you know though that besides low body weight there’s; hair loss, brittle nails, dull skin, dry/flaky/scaly skin, heartburn, nausea, irritability, low moods, feelings of weakness and fatigue, dizziness, being cold all.the.time., lanugo (faint hair that grows on the body to keep you warm when starving), fainting spells, shaky/weakness in legs mainly.. and pain. Fucking pain. When your stomach is stretching or shrinking, either or hurts. Also fun fact your organs can shut down, you can go into a coma and die. If that’s not bad enough it’s statistically the hardest mental illness to recover from and it has the highest death rate. Fun times to be blessed with that bad boy huh?

My psych explained anorexia to me as anxiety+OCD=anorexia.

Fun little cocktail of mental health problems 😂

I’ve had it about 4-5 years.. well I know it’s been a problem for that long but it’s plausible that I could have had it before and not been aware.

It’s the worst. It’s literally hell. Living hell. It’s seeing yourself in a mirror and being disgusted. Or crying.. or just being plain disappointed in yourself. Sometimes you’ll see a good thing or two when you look but usually it’s this hostile person staring at your flaws.

It’s getting moody around ‘mealtimes’ (when a normal person would eat) and taking it out on those around you.

It’s the constant obsessive thoughts. Because it is an obsession. An obsession with food.. or more without it. But I’m not sure if you’ve been starving before. Like not the phrase ‘I’m starving’ but literally your body has gone into starvation mode. Almost all you can think about is food.

Now let me explain the difference between a bulimic person and an anorexic one. Someone with bulimia right about now will either have already caved or will be stuffing their face with food because they gave in. Usually they will purge it in some way; by forcing themselves to vomit, laxatives, diet pills, water pills, (driven) exercise etc.

someone with anorexia can also purge which is where it gets confusing but usually a bulimic person has these binge->purge sessions pretty regularly whereas an anorexic will hold out a lot longer and doesn’t really binge as much.

Anorexia is all about control. In case you hadn’t realised.

Usually it’s about striving to be perfect... and control is needed for that. It’s also a lot to do with outside surroundings being out of the person’s control. So in order to try and cope they will create control somewhere else where it may not have necessarily been needed. Honestly I don’t understand the way bulimic people’s brains work and they don’t get anorexics. Kinda weird that but eh. It’s hard to explain it all to someone who doesn’t have eating troubles at all because they simply can’t comprehend why you would specifically go against one of your most basic instincts.

I probably couldn’t explain that one really.

It’s a no brainer for people to know that someone with an eating disorder is insecure about themselves. But does anyone really know what that level of insecurity looks like or how it presents itself? Probably not.

It’s nasty words and short tempers. Misunderstandings and overreactions.

It comes off as sad and desperate.. attention seeking. It’s jealousy, the worst kind imaginable.

Tears, voices cracking, puffy eyes.

Sobs that wrack your soul and hearts shattering with each breath.

Stinging eyes, throat hoarse, bloodied knuckles and skin you tore away from your fingers.

Uncontrollable tremors, your heart pounding too loud in your head. Make it stop.

It’s not being able to breathe. Thinking you’ll die.. fuck a panic attack isn’t how I wanted to go?!

It’s pushing people away before they get the chance to hurt you first. Only to apologise the next day and beg for them to stay. Go away! Come back!!? No! Fuck you!!

Go. Stay. GO. STAY

I’m just fucking sorry.. okay?

I hate that I do this. I hate that you care. I hate that I’ve forgotten how to care about myself. I wish I could change these parts of my brain. I’m like a ticking time bomb or a slow acting poison. I will paralyse you.. suffocate you. Maybe leave nothing left.

Someone told me all I ever do is drag everyone down.

Another asked me if I wanted to bring everyone else down with my problems.

No. Not at all.

So I stopped talking about my problems; and that’s how I’ve come to this carcophany of thoughts and feelings and insecurities. And the worst part is that’s not even everything.

People with an ED have thought distortions. That means they don’t see themselves in the way others do. People think this means purely physical but it can mean personality wise too. So because of this, if someone compliments me I don’t really take it in. It’s like.. a filter or something that’s always there and only certain things get in or out. The compliments rarely make it through the bubble. Insults and criticism however, they stick in my brain whether I want them to or not. They will literally cause an ocd tick about it going over and over in a loop on repeat. And I believe it too.. it takes a lot to drill these ideas out of me. Like for example that one about all you ever do is drag people down was like 3 years ago. And it’s like i can’t remember the way the memory looked but I can hear that person’s voice clear as day.

It’s fucked how people from my past haunt me like that. To the point I hear their voices. In a way it’s getting close to a full blown episode if I’m at the point I’m properly ‘hearing their voices’. it’s sort of like a memory.. but too vivid. Like I think one memory I had I got the words right but the voice I was hearing was the wrong person. It took me a long time to remember who actually said it and it really confused me. They’re like echoes in my head. Sometimes I can control it and sometimes I can’t. Which is terrifying in itself. I don’t often talk about these things let alone remember them myself.

A full blown mental episode for me is bad. They are bad for anyone involved.. and sometimes those not involved too. I’ll lose the plot. Won’t eat right, won’t sleep right, hearing things, imagining things.. my brain plays all kinds of tricks on me. But the biggest part is that I’m scared that ‘something’ is coming to get me and I’m convinced that if I sleep I’ll be off guard and won’t be able to protect myself. The level of terror I have though it’s like a fucking demon is coming to get me or something that no one will be able to protect me from but myself. Metaphorically speaking it does make sense but at the time I see it very literally. I wouldn’t even want to know what I’m like from someone else’s point of view there. I get scared to talk, paranoid as anything. I’ll mentally be incapable of doing anything that requires much thought process on my own. And also I’ll have something that I’m fixated on that has usually caused said episode.

People don’t know what to do though when they happen. Because if you aren’t qualified how could you know really. And my problem is I’m intelligent. My brain has the power to pull the wool over my eyes. So I’ll be convinced I’m better until something pops my little bubble/filter/distortion barrier and it’s like oh my fucking god I’m just as bad as always. But anyways, I tried to read a lot of things to like help myself mentally. But everything I know.. the mental illness knows.. and can use against me. It’s hard to explain but it’s literally like the worst sense of betrayal and disappointment when you snap out of it.

Self sabotage is a pretty human thing but that level of self sabotage.. like touché brain you impress me nonetheless.

Sometimes I wish I could look into some kind of magical crystal ball or scrying mirror and see a parallel universe where I was never born. See how things would be. Then I would like to see one where the night I took all those pills and laid down to go to sleep, that friend didn’t message me and ask me how I was just at the exact time I didn’t care enough to lie.

The last one I would like to see is a parallel universe where Amy survived.

Then again maybe the last one wouldn’t be a good idea. I think it would break me to see that and then come back to a world where she died at 7.

I don’t think i really explained BPD in this rant. That’s borderline personality disorder. And no I don’t have split personalities that one is multiple personality disorder or DID.

BPD was given its name because a number of patients were presenting in the ER with psychotic symptoms but they themselves were on the cusp of being psychotic and neurotic. Therefore, ‘borderliners’. It’s a lot more to do with emotional disregulation than with personalities. It’s been found in studies that people with BPD have an overactive amiygdyla (however you spell it.) and that part of the brain controls emotion and emotion regulation.

A good way to describe it is through the sims. Imagine when you’re creating a sim and in the traits section there is one you can’t unselect called which is like a supertrait that controls the rest. I don’t really know mine but it appears it’s like insecurity or something similar.

And then there’s the emotions. Imagine the sim emotion bar thing. That’s a normal person. Now a person with BPD has this same bar but doubled at the top and bottom. So twice as big. It’s great with good emotions. You feel them so deeply it warms your soul. But the other side is the doozy. You feel twice as shitty when bad things happen. Literally people with BPD feel emotions in a different way from normal people. Their brains function differently... it’s not one of those ones you just have to look on the bright side and deep breathe because that shit won’t fly with BPD.

You also have intense feelings of emptiness, loneliness and sadness that is a constant.

You lack the ability to self validate like others can. Basically say you have an idea.. you won’t know it’s a good idea until someone tells you it’s a good idea and then you take that as like acceptance or they have ‘validated’ you. On the other hand we are very sensitive to invalidation. This means that any time we have been invalidated (made to feel wrong, someone is saying something isn’t right, criticism etc) or even perceived invalidation. That one means when you think that someone invalidated you but in reality they didn’t.. the outcome is the same. It makes you feel worthless, rejected, sometimes suicidical, unimportant and the list goes on and on.

People with BPD are always at risk of ‘problem’ behaviours, self harm and suicide. Problem behaviours include things like drugs, risky driving, promiscuity and breaking the law.

They also have incredibly intense and unstable relationships and are prone to sudden outbursts of emotion.

There aren’t any medications proven effective for BPD clients at present. It is possible though to learn the behaviours that they lack and some people go on to not meet the criteria for BPD after years of therapy.