#on trauma

[asoftepiloguemylove]

i never grew up with you and you're not my waiting room

Marjane Satrapi Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood / unknown / Clementine von Radics / Clementine von Radics / image (unknown) quote (Richard Siken Crush) / Louise Glück from Unpainted Door, "Poems 1962-2012" / unknown / image (unknown) quote (Phoebe Bridgers Moon Song)

i. Marjane Satrapi, Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood

[ "What is childhood like? It's a little like dying, a little like being born. Which is to say, it's nothing you can remember, but you know there was blood." ]

ii. unknown

[ Floating cutout of a wolf on a black background. Text surrounds the image. "NOTHING WILL BE LEFT OF ME / BUT A MEMORY / BUT EVEN THAT WILL DIE OFF TOO" ]

iii. Clementine von Radics

[ "Every time a man yells / you are seven years old again / and he is packing that suitcase / once more. Picking you up by the neck, / teaching you obedience. To be soft, / like the belly of a fish / exposed to a knife." ]

iv. Clementine von Radics

[ "When I imagine myself I am barely there." ]

v. Richard Siken, Crush

[ The background image is of two black men standing face to face. The man of the left holds the back of the man on the right's head. They are posed intimately with their foreheads touching. The words are cut out like a collage and placed in the middle of the image. "he / touches / you, / like a / prayer / for which / no / words / exist, / and you / feel / your heart / taking / root / in your / body, / like / you've / discovered / something / you didn't / even / have / a name / for." ]

vi. Louise Glück, Unpainted Door

[ Screenshot of a tumblr post from @/weltenwellen "I remember my childhood as a long wish to be elsewhere." Louise Glück from "Unpainted Door", Poems 1962-2012 ]

vii. unknown

[ "You can never leave home. / You take it with you no matter where you go. Home is between your teeth, under your fingernails, in the hair follicles, in your smile, in the ride of your hips, in the passage of your breasts." ]

viii. Phoebe Bridgers, Moon Song

[ Edited collage. The background image is of a teenage boy laying on a pile of books while his dog lays with it's chin on his neck. The words are cut on paper at the top and bottom of the image. There are silver stars sporadically placed on the image. "so i will wait for the next time you want me / like a dog with a bird at your door" ]

[howlingtothevoid]

I hate what you've done to me!!!

...

So why do I still miss you?

[ixioideae-letters]

why do you still have your ropes around my hands?

hieu minh nguyen / sarah lewarn / lia kimura / isabel emrich / taylor swift / phoebe bridgers / rnn90 after mark rubenstein / penelope douglas / katie maria / jakun kujawa via @nailone on dA / rainer maria rilke / kate elizabeth russell / ale casanova / sylvia plath

[pain-is-my-game]

You know what makes it all the more worse. I know my mom loves me but it's just not in any way that matters.

[judas-redeemed]

sitting inside my chest is a child listening through a door who's learning how to cry silently. i hope one day i can convince her she's safe

[myheartsblood]

the only way I'd know love is if it hit me in the face

for my oc, Odylline

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, Sylvia Plath // Salt in the Wound, boygenius // Daily 19 Painting, Nickie Zimov // @dreadfulhounds // Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices, Sylvia Plath // from a letter by Tennessee Williams, to Donald Windham (July, 1947) // Black Leopard, Red Wolf, Marlon James // deer at night, George Shiras (1893) /// Glepnir, Walton Ford // Myth of Innocence, Louise Glück // Father, The Front Bottoms // Ghismonda with the heart of Guiscardo (Detail), Bernardino Mei // The Red Bed, James Pryde // Oculus, Sally Wen Mao

[the-ghost-bird]

Origins; There's no home for me besides these gallows.

How’d Your Parents Die Again? by Fatimah Asghar | Unpainted Door by Louise Glück | A Hymn to Childhood by Li-Young Lee | I Don't Love Anyone by Belle & Sebastian | Can I Exist by Missio | Daddy's Lil Girl by Bikini Kill | via @/sainticide | Dog Woman by Chris Abani | Final Girl VII: The Terrible Place by Daphne Gottlieb | The Truth About Grief by Fortesa Latifi | Family Tree (Intro) by Ethel Cain | The Sun Is Also A Star by Nicola Yoon | Desireé Dallagiacomo | Father by The Front Bottoms | via @/ijaazat | To Juan Doe #234 By Eduardo Corral | In The Blood by John Mayer | Angry Chair by Alice in Chains | How to Cure a Ghost by Fariha Róisín | The Things We Lost In The Fire by @lastactiontricia | FORGIVENESS IS THE THING WITH KNIVES AND BLOOD by @judas-redeemed | How to Be a Person in the World by Heather Havrilesky | Courtney Love Prays to Oregon by Clementine von Radics

[petite-gloom]

Would you be alright with sharing the link to the article on the effects of trauma on the body, the one you mentioned in your new video?

here, it’s a few years old but really interesting. along the same lines as ‘the body keeps the score’ if you’ve read that

[marthammasters]

[…] The same thing happened to both of us.” His smile broadened and he lifted a forefinger into the air. “The Traumatic Event—you know that term? Have you done any reading on monsters like us?”

“Yes,” I said. “And Harry—my foster father—but he would never say exactly what had happened.”

Brian waved a hand around at the interior of the little box. “This happened, little brother. The chain saw, the flying body parts, the . . . blood—” With that same fearful emphasis again. “Two and a half days of sitting in the stuff. A wonder we survived at all, isn't it? Almost enough to make you believe in God.” His eyes glittered and, for some reason or other, Deborah squirmed and made a muffled noise. He ignored her. “They thought you were young enough to recover. I was just a bit over the age limit. But we both suffered a classic Traumatic Event. All the literature agrees. It made me what I am—and I had a thought that it might do the same for you.”

“It did,” I said, “exactly the same.”

“Isn't that nice,” he said. “Family ties.”

— Jeff Lindsay, Darkly Dreaming Dexter

[asoftepiloguemylove]

mom, am i still young? can i dream for a few months more?

unknown / Maia Baia / Ethel Cain Family Tree / Oscar Wilde The Importance of Being Earnest / @/honeytuesday (on tumblr) / Lorde Writer in the Dark / Lidia Yuknavitch Letter to My Rage: An Evolution

i. unknown

[ "My mother is where it begins. / She and I are at war. / Our relation is hatred." ]

ii. Maia Baia

[ "Mother / Eat me and give birth to me again // This time around I'll make you proud" ]

iii. Ethel Cain, Family Tree

[ "I'm just a child but I'm not above violence / My mama raised me better than that" ]

iv. Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

[ "All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does, that is his." ]

v. @/honeytuesday

[ "mothers and daughters existing as wretched mirrors of each otehr: i am all you could have been and you are all i might be." ]

vi. Lorde, Writer in the Dark

[ "I am my mother's child, I'll love you 'til my breathing stops / I'll love you 'til you call the cops on me" ]

vii. Lidia Yuknavitch, Letter to My Rage: An Evolution

[ "Or was my rage my mother's? Or her mother's? Or hers? An inherited creature?" ]

[glasswaters]

you ruffle his hair and he scowls. you pat his back and he flinches. you-

you don't touch him when he looks as though the anger might eat him alive. you don't set him on your shoulders when he wins that first race.

you watch him throw his arms around a boy's shoulders and press his back against another's chest. he's laughing, like this, as though his mouth has not yet learned how to make of itself a sharpened blade.

once, a boy laid his lips against your naked throat where it was bared, and uncovered. his mouth was soft, and in it, you could feel the beat of your frantic heart.

once, a boy lost teeth and mouth and blood in the expanse of your hands. he lay, wheezing and laughing, under the heavy rain of them. he pulled his lips back, and somehow, you could still taste them at the back of your throat.

once, your child slipped through your hands like molasses. sticky and sick and bloated with ferment, you clung to it. didn't you know? one rotten apple spoils the bunch.

place a soft molding mushroom into a tupperware full of fresh ones and you have doomed them all to be fed on. one touch of foul, squelching flesh, and nothing might stay fresh, anymore.

come on. touch your child. make it soft. make it last.

_____

this is a piece inspired by @madnessiseverything 's piece here: https://madnessiseverything.tumblr.com/post/709593192293646336/your-son-loves-touch-yet-flinches-when-you-reach

[in-your-walls]

James Cromwell on how he contextualized Ewan and Logan’s trauma

Sort of a continuation/related to this post by @waystarresourceco

[innamorat4]

I've known pain.

I've stood quietly while you reached to my branches,

ripped my leaves, bringing winter to my life,

I stood while you tried to break my stem.

I stood while you tried to claw my roots out.

My thorns are made of memories of your raging hands.

And I still stand.

And still I blossomed.

[fr0gg13b413]

listening to 'who we are' for the first time was a religious experience.

to hold me like water or, Christ, hold me like a knife

we're born at night so much of our lives is just carving through the dark to get so far and the hardest part is who are it's who we are

you only feel it when it's lost getting through still has its cost quietly, it slips through your fingers, love falling from you drop by drop

like dude. that's going to take 10-15 business days to process

[judas-redeemed]

the vigilant still bleed - judas h.

[werewolfcave]

brown, adrienne maree. Emergent Strategy : Shaping Change, Changing Worlds, AK Press, 2017.