#ptsd symptoms

[probablyhuntersmom]

PTSD signs and other symptoms of poor mental health, wrapped in a single package i.e. this heavily damaged lad in Labyrinth Runners.

Avoiding and denying.

Hypervigilance and flashbacks.

Sweating.

And eventually shaking after trying to hold it off.

Panic attacks.

Flinching.

Intellectualising when Gus promises not to mess with him.

Freezing up.

You know what else? He's taking longer than we'd like to really open up because he has no accurate reference from his childhood of a secure, loving bond in any relationship.

[seven-oomen]

So... my ptsd is causing muscle weakness, fibromyalgia, crps, dizziness and heart palpitations, and plenty of physical symptoms...

Well fuck me.

Apparently ptsd can even cripple you or cause significant physical symptoms.

[ravingxfxbrickxwall]

Sometimes you don’t know how much you’re holding it in until someone is so unapologetically, purely and honestly kind to you

[mental-mona]

[pekejscatbed]

Strawberry Shortcake | Dick Grayson centric

info/warnings:

Vent Fic, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Childhood Trauma, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Angst and Porn, Sexual Content, Masturbation, Dildos, Dick Grayson is Not Okay, Author Projecting onto Dick Grayson. Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Song: Strawberry Shortcake (Melanie Martinez)

batman masterlist

———

Dick can still feel their hands on him, can still feel the way their fingers traced his skin and hovered over his most sensitive parts before plunging their nails into his flesh as they touched him in all the wrong ways and all he could do was scream and cry and beg as he tried to fight back and couldn't; tied down or drugged or too physically exhausted to even know what was happening until after everything was done. He can feel the way they caressed his body, hands trailing from his face to his chest to lower, lower, lower. He can feel them groping his pecs and his ass and his-

He can still feel it even after all this time, he can still feel the first time it happened when he was still a child and every time after. He can feel the hands from his childhood and his teen years and the most recent instances of his adulthood. He can feel it all, so, so vividly. It's like they never stopped. They didn't before, and Dick swears they still don't because he can still see it all happening to him over and over again when he blinks, relives the assault and abuse every single time he closes his eyes.

Maybe all that pain is why he is the way he is. Maybe that pain shaped him into the man he is today- into the slut he is today.

(He can vividly remember how the word sounded on their tongue.)

If he hadn't gone through that, would he be the way he is now? If he hadn't experienced that, would he still sexualize himself every chance he got just so he could feel loved when complete strangers stared at him with lust? Would he flirt with all of his friends and make dirty jokes and revel in their attention and praise when they complement him? Would he show off his body and wear revealing clothes just to feel something- anything?

If Dick hadn't been harassed and assaulted and worse, would he still be here now, hand stroking his cock while he rides the dildo underneath him, camera in front of him catching every whimper he makes as he gets closer and closer to yet another orgasm that he's lost count of because he's just not satisfied and he won't be until he's a crying, shaking, withering mess?

Dick wonders if this is normal as his fingers grip his cock, moving up and down in time with his hips as he drops down onto his dildo, wonders if other survivors' film themselves getting off to post for random people on the internet. Do they also cry when they cum? Do they push themselves to the edge no matter how tired they are or how much pain they're in? Do they have rape fantasies despite knowing how wrong it is, how horrible it feels?

Do they feel as dehumanized as he does as his cock spurts cum all over his hand and his stomach, tears cascading down his face, body collapsing in on itself as he falls to the floor with a sob?

Or is Dick just broken, shattered pieces of the child he used to be, of the child he never will be again- a hollowed, empty shell of what once was?

[selectivechaos]

types of flashbacks.

[ID: text reads: “3 Types Of Flashbacks Due to Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Visual is where trauma is re-experienced as a visual picture.

Somatic is where pain and body sensations are felt due to re-experiencing the physical pain of the trauma.

Emotional is where intense emotions occur due to triggers to emotions felt during past trauma.”

At the bottom of the image, text reads: “Healing From Complex Trauma & PTSD/ cPTSD. Copyright Protected. See more info on my Website - the link is in my bio https://www.healingfromcomplextraumaandptsd.com/ . End ID]

[enoughdonegone]

Trauma symptom: rushing in the bathroom.

It's been a while since I've had jarring ptsd symptoms, but yesterday I did get a feeling while I was using the restroom : Hurry! Before he realizes you're in here!

I've learned to get myself through these, so I'm fine. But oof.

[emed123]

How To Address PSTD In Ethnic And Racial Minorities

The term "posttraumatic stress disorder" (PTSD) refers to a type of psychiatric illness that can arise in people who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event such as a natural disaster, an accident, a terrorist act, war or combat, or rape as well as those who have been threatened with death

[ravingxfxbrickxwall]

Anyone else uncomfortable with the notion of being comforted? Even if someone tries a part of you has instant alarm bells going off and you’re wary of them. Your brain is so scared that the comfort and care is conditional that instead of accepting the care, you go “What do you want?” And redirect the conversation because it feels so wrong and off?

[mental-mona]

[asharestupid]

Some people won't have to experience looking up PTSD symptoms and signs of abuse or toxic parents at 3:00 a.m. while they can hear their parents arguing and I think that's nice

[mars--bars]

Understanding PTSD

PTSD at the beginning:

started having panic attacks

started having flashbacks

constant anxiety

felt like everything in my life tied back to this relationship

trust issues

repulsed by sex/sexual activities

physical triggers

didn't trust myself/telling my own story

couldn't talk about the details of my story

couldn't say his name for a long time

became isolated

recurring nightmares

PTSD after starting treatment:

constant flashbacks

flashbacks felt more real

temporarily seeing imaginary things

constant nightmares

really didn't believe my own story

physical triggers were really limiting

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Under Pressure

No. 12 WHAT COULD GO WRONG? “Mayday, mayday!” | Cave In | Rusty Nail

This is set in the same universe as Death is Cheap, in that the world building is the same, but with different characters and a separate plot. 

Taglist: @teamwhump

TWs: some lady whump, impalement, PTSD, some claustrophobia and nausea mention

Also fair warning that I'm woefully out of practice with action scenes.

“You know, I would have thought an underwater mine to be… colder.”

“We’re close to a hydrothermal vent.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“No, that’s bad.”

Courtney stopped short to stare in silent questioning at Sabrina. “How do you figure that’s bad? The cold is worse for your powers. You’ve got loads of ambient energy, Falcon,” she teased.

Sighing, though whether in exasperation or fondness was anyone’s guess, Sabrina said, “Loads of energy to spare. Maybe even too much. These walls are all that stands between us both and all that energy.”

For a moment, Courtney went white and silent. Then, with a faked surety that died mid voice crack, she replied, “Well, I can put a bubble around us then.”

Another sigh from Sabrina, this one tenser. “I sure fuckin’ hope so,” she whispered. 

She guesstimated the vents were but a few dozen hundred pounds of rock and soil and some feet of water away, but she wasn’t a geologist. Her wings twitched with anxious energy, feathers fluffing up. She just knew they were close enough to be dangerous. Close enough to be useful, as Courtney had pointed out, but the risks outweighed the potential benefits. 

“You sure you’re cool with this?” Sabrina asked Courtney as they continued even deeper into the mine shaft. “I mean, after what you went through —”

“I’m cool as a cucumber,” Courtney cut her off, even as she hurried to rush ahead. 

Sabrina let out another soft sigh before she picked up the pace to catch up. 

Courtney wasn’t certain how long they had been walking. An undercurrent (ha) of fear had settled in her stomach and left her nauseated. Her hands trembled. Compulsively, she formed little bubble shaped shields and rolled them between her fingers as they traveled. The deeper they delved into the mine, the darker it became.

Each footfall crunched, the unpaved, uneven dirt compression underfoot. Still, sometimes her mind played a cruel trick and it almost sounded like the heavy stomp of steel toe boots on concrete. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her knee ached and her leg felt heavy with phantom sensation.

She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of damp soil and the lingering mustiness that filled the entire space. It filled her lungs, expanding like moss, and she exhaled it shakily.

A hand each clasped over her mouth and around her waist even as she let out a muffled cry- but the hands were gentle, soft, and nothing like–

Schooling her features into a mask of calm despite her racing heart, Courtney glanced over her shoulder as Sabrina released her waist, then slowly followed the flickering glow of her fire where the darkness swallowed it.

Dark, save for the pair of shiny eyes that stared back at them. The green-yellow sheen and the faint light from the torch illuminated only the barest of outlines of the creature down the shaft. Large. She could tell that much. The shadows seemed to twist and shift, her depth perception failing her. Was it heaving in its breathing, or was it loping closer?

Slowly, ever so slowly, Courtney stepped back, every inch and footfall matched by Sabrina behind her. The glowing set of eyes blinked out, plunged into shadowy darkness and even the faintest of outlines disappeared into nothing. 

She froze. The stagnant air clung to her skin and filled her lungs with cotton rather than air. In the distance, a dull thud echoed and rocks and silt shifted with soft susurrus. Something heavy dragged over grit and clicked on the metal railway underfoot.

“Come on out!” Sabrina shouted. She readied a ball of flame in her hand, the heat so great it dried the sweat on Courtney’s neck. Even the fire’s glow wasn’t nearly enough to cast any light on whatever was moving in the dark.

The creature’s footsteps came closer, then further away, pacing, sizing them both up. A low growl rolled forward, like thunder.

“Fuck this,” Courtney whispered before she swung her arm in a wide arc- casting a razor sharp energy shield.

The mine shaft exploded into chaos. The thing in the shadows roared and lunged, taking them both down. It bore down on her, huge and powerful and its ghastly, steam-hot breathing scalded her skin. Sabrina’s knee pressed into her back, her partner going frighteningly still, but Courtney kept trying to scramble back and kick at anything she could reach of the thing as she shoved Sabrina’s motionless body out of danger.

Giant claws, pitch black and dirty, landed on her shoulders and cracked her skull against the earth beneath her. Hyperventilating and blinking away stars, Courtney tried to focus her magic, tried to 

“Little pig, little pig,” the beast chuckled, voice crackly like ice just about to give way. All the same, Courtney’s blood ran cold. “You’ve come to play?”

Blood dripped down onto her face. When she looked up, she came face to face with those same damn fucking eyes that haunted her nightmares.

“Hello, Watcher,” he leaned in closer. At this distance, she could see that her earlier attack had carved a thick line across his snout. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Figment. Her old... boss. Never a friend.

(She had been young and confused and scared and hurt and angry at the world, and he had all the answers and he made everything make sense.)

“What- what are you-”

“Ah ah. My how you’ve forgotten to respect your superiors so soon.”

Her old boss who had set off an IED in a packed parking garage. 

(Then she couldn’t ignore the fear and pain anymore, that bloodying her hands left them shaky and stained. That she had one chance to start to undo some of the wrongs she had done with Figment and that chance was to let Fiery Falcon and her team escape. She was just trying to do right.)

Her old boss that had taken one look at the rebar through her stomach and just stared down at her for a moment, head tilted in silent consideration, before he’d shifted to a stronger, more animalistic form, muscles shifting and bones rearranging. She’d begged for him, between wet, raspy breaths, for his help. 

Instead, he’d taken hold of the rebar and twisted and turned it over until it bent like a staple. A rod of metal stapling her to the ground, under rubble and damning her to a slow end. He scratched a long, deep furrow in her cheek - a ‘reminder’ of her betrayal and that she’d thrown away everything he had made her into - and left her.

He hadn’t even looked at her as he’d tossed slabs of concrete and asphalt and metal aside. Her legs had been crushed by shifting debris and her lungs very nearly collapsed while she awaited her death or her salvation. 

And until she’d woken in a hospital bed, chained to the bed frame, she hadn’t known which it would be.

“Did you miss me so that you had to search me out?” Figment rumbled, voice chillingly familiar. It was the same damn tone he’d taken with her when he asked where the Falcon had flew off to. 

“Go to hell,” Courtney’s voice cracked. 

Figment laughed. “No, I don’t think I will.” With a roar, he gripped her by the shoulders, nearly crushing bone and sending waves of numbness down her arms, and tossed her to the side like a doll. Courtney crashed into the wooden strut and hit the ground with a thud and a wheeze. The pain sparking in her chest told her that she’d cracked a rib at the very least. 

Dazed, she propped herself up on one arm. Figment stalked closer to Sabrina, who was finally beginning to rouse, albeit with sluggish motions and a faint moan. He raised a claw over his head.

“No!” Courtney threw up a shield above her friend. The impact rattled through her whole body to drop her back to the ground.

Snarling just like the animal he appeared to be, Figment rounded back on Courtney and threw himself at her, shifting back to human mid lunge to avoid her block. He rammed his arm against the back of her neck, pressing her face into the dirt. It filled her mouth and blood rushed from her broken nose. With watering, stinging eyes and what felt like a baseball behind her eyes, she flailed blindly.

“You’re making a convincing argument I should have killed you,” he whispered softly as he ground her face in deeper. “I don’t intend to repeat the mistake.”

Her struggles began to slow. Her body stopped responding, all the air her muscles needed burning up in her lungs uselessly, and her vision began to turn impossibly darker.

No. She couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t let him win again. 

Courtney was better than him. Going still and conserving her strength, she concentrated all that she had into a single tiny, tiny bubble of energy and placed it between her back and his stomach. 

Sabrina screamed, “Courtney!” right as everything exploded.

In hindsight, leaving the girl alive was a mistake. Theo groaned and curled tighter, or at least tried. His left leg shifted only slightly and then was stopped by a heavy pressure, but it was his spine and ribs that protested the most, announcing their displeasure with blinding bolts of pain. 

“Oh, looks like he’s waking up. Good.”

That got him moving. Jolting to full awareness, he ignored the pain and yanked himself upright. 

There was rubble everywhere. Water leaking between the various cracks in the ceiling and walls and soaking the ground. The Falcon and Watcher both stood, though Cour– Watcher leaned into her new partner.

“Fuck you,” he growled. “What did you do?”

“We’re trapped,” Watcher said bluntly. “The entrance is blown.”

Abruptly he realized that he was in his human form yet could see just fine. The entire structure of the mine shaft was illuminated by Watcher’s energy shields, bolstering the walls and roof to prevent a secondary collapse. The honeycomb shape of her energy gleamed a dull golden hue. His heart beat faster. They could leave him here and he knew damn well Watcher would let this whole place come down on his head. 

“Apparently,” he snarled, not letting his fear show as anything else but rage. 

No one spoke. Watcher and Falcon shared a meaningful glance that he could almost gag on. 

Courtney turned her attention back to him, eyes cold and viciously empty. He just curled his lip at her. “We’re going deeper into the caves,” she said.

“That seems so terribly bright.”

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

He did, but not because she told him to, but because she planted her foot right on the rock pinning his ankle between another rock and leaned on it. Rolling his eyes up and swallowing a grunt, he cracked his neck and jaw. 

“Alright. Deeper into the caves we go then.”

Sabrina leaned down and helped move the stone off him but only just enough he could scrape and tear it free. Neither so called hero paused long enough to see if he could stand before they were walking away. Gritting his jaw, he very pointedly made sure not to limp as he followed behind.

[cherieye]

Me Researching Symptoms of PTSD

1.) One of many distressing aspects of PTSD is struggling with sensory distortions, especially difficulties with hearing or processing sound. It's the sort of thing that's hard to explain to other people, yet it can have a profound impact on everyday life.

2.) PTSD related memory loss can make it difficult to remember lists or facts, can make memory seem fragmented or disorganized, or can lead to large gaps in memory altogether. These issues can have a serious impact on daily functioning, and one might not realize that these problems are related to PTSD.

Me: well......fuck