#tw mentions of child neglect

[skyhon]

I thought for so long that I couldn’t finish my highschool diploma, let alone start a college education. But now I’m a straight-A student who’s made the vice president’s (fall quarter) and president’s (winter quarter) honor list. I can confidently say that the reason this is possible is because of two things: my diagnosis of ADHD (and the tools that brings) and my support group.

I dropped out of highschool at the age of 17 with no hope to ever finish because of mental health issues and my undiagnosed ADHD and bipolar. I was sure that I would be stuck in dead-end retail forever. I even tried to get back into highschool two separate times, but I couldn’t juggle school and my full-time job without triggering a hypomanic episode and then immediately dipping down into depression.

I am now part of my school’s top 5% GPA President’s honors list. And I am constantly feeling as if I shouldn’t belong on it. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m actually smart, and that the reason why I failed before wasn’t because I was dumb and stupid, but because I wasn’t given the proper tools and support. My education and importance wasn’t cared for by my parents in a way that actually mattered for someone with ADHD. I wasn’t even aware I had it, because my mom just didn’t talk about it. (She’s tried to gaslight me by saying she did. I actually learnt from here, on Tumblr, that I might have it, and then I got a psychiatrist who diagnosed me officially. I shouldn’t have realized my neurodivergence from memes on Tumblr. I should have been told by my mom, who, as I said, KNEW the whole time, but did nothing about it, even when I struggled through highschool and had to drop out).

It's okay to take time away from school. It’s okay to drop out when you need to. You are not a lost cause if you ever find yourself having to take time away from education because of your mental health. It does NOT define you. But please be aware — those who drop out likely have no support network. They don’t have people to help and provide encouragement. They don’t have loved ones who care enough to support you as you seek out something like a professional diagnosis, or a program that would help you create a useful structure that will boost you up and not drag you down. They don’t have the love and hope that they desperately need. And this is not their fault. That is not something they, an adolescent, should have to struggle through and feel helpless about. They should be engaged with and cared for and they should KNOW that they are cared for not just by the means of words from others, but by ACTION.

I slipped through the cracks, just as my father did before me. I lived without the support I needed and I failed. But that wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the reason that the people around me failed to provide for my most basic of needs.

And I might have to keep reminding myself of this. I likely will have to. But I won’t do so alone. I have support now, in my found family. I have it in my teachers, who actually care. I have it in my meds, my psychiatrist, my psychologist, my therapist. I have it in my healthy coping strategies, my learnt self encouragement, my specific way of working with my ADHD and bipolar, not against it. All of this is possible because I have people around me who give a shit. Who remind me of my worth as a human being, inherently and without a needed ‘reason’ to be important in their, and my, life.

So if you’re struggling... if you can, please take some sort of first step to building that new network. I had to abandon my old one because it wasn’t working. Even though it was my own parents, I had to let them go as my source for support, because they just weren’t giving me any. I found people who care. I found people who support me. I found my home, my family.

And yeah, it might be a bit unorthodox. But I don’t care. Who gives a shit. The people before weren’t helping me, and that wasn’t my fault. Do I feel wronged? Of course I do. They were supposed to be my parents, and they were supposed to be ready and willing to help their kid succeed not only academically but also health-wise, mentally or physically. But I have to acknowledge this, and then keep walking. I can walk backwards for awhile, both middle fingers up to the world, but some day I’m going to feel okay enough to turn back around and keep walking forwards. And that day will be so fucking good for me.

The first step is to realize and process this reality. That you are not bad or wrong for having needs as a kid. Your support network neglected you and your needs. And you can be angry about it. You don’t even have to “move on” in the way most people think “moving on” means — which is usually framed as “forgiveness” for the neglectors’ behavior. Fuck that.

But someday, you’re not going to give them as much thought. They’re not going to be as important to you as they once were. And you’re going to have others there to care about you and love you. And you’re going to feel powerful, because you are. You’re going to feel capable, because you are.

You can do it. I believe in you.

Just as I’m learning to believe in myself.

[punkstylerecovery]

Generally speaking, your parents often owe you a lot more than you're taught to believe. A lot of people are raised to believe that parents do not really owe you that much beyond food and shelter and that's not true. In fact, you can have parents who give you food, shelter, patience and kindness and STILL deserve more from them.

By being your parents, they've accepted a very special relationship and amount of responsibility for you. Do you know how many people I know whose parents have never genuinely apologized to them? How many people’s parents physically hurt them, how many people’s parents mock their insecurities, how many people’s parents don’t care for their children’s health, how many parents make their children (intentionally or otherwise) want to die? 

And so many people don’t give a fuck. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not treat us to respect our parents in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t deserve shit. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not teach us to “respect our parents” in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t really deserve shit. It varies but its so common that lots of people don’t even think twice about it. 

But children DO deserve more than they’re generally given. So much more! And so many things that are literally just abusive are considered normal parenting all around the world and that’s vile, especially considering children are the most severely affected by this and have no “societal power” to wield to put a stop to it beyond what they can scramble together through a combination of sheer determination, shock value, strength and fucking luck. 

Not to sound radical, but I think we owe children a fuck ton more than they’re being given now and I think people need to learn so much more about abuse and how that ties into the common underplaying of what we’re owed in parent/child relationships. 

[youredreamingofroo]

Inner child

- -

"I know you were tired- So many hours of your days were spent being small, holding yourself together in the corner. Some days you could muster up a smile... Other days you could hardly get out of bed. It was all wrong. You were just a kid."

[ Transcript under the cut <3 ]

Panel 1 : I remember how sad you were

Panel 2 : You'd go to the bathroom every morning and cry.

Panel 3 : You were angry. But too feeble from neglect to express it.

Panel 4 : And even when you changed yourself to be above them, or to be among them. You were prey. A target.

Panel 5 : I still remember how sad I was. I remember every course of rage in my veins

Panel 6 : Eventually desperation took over. To fit in was to be same. To be same was to be free of the heckling.

Panel 7 : But all along you and I were always going to be different from the crowd.

Panel 8 : I'm sorry it took this long. But everything is okay now. I've learnt to love our differences from the crowd.

Panel 9 : I did this. I did this all for you. But you'll never know that. You'll never know why it was wrong to be treated that way. You'll never know peace.

Panel 10 : I was just a kid. / I'm just a kid.

[furiousgoldfish]

I'm going to sit down and try to explain this with patience, to everyone who still thinks calling out narcissistic abuse is 'ableist' or 'dehumanizing to the narcissists', and that abuse is something we're all equally capable of.

I don't think you understand what narcissistic abuse is, or how it differs from the other kinds of abuse. We can agree that all and any abuse is damaging, traumatic and scarring, but narcissistic abuse is so extremely pervasive, hidden, strategic and unbelievable, to the point where I can't honestly tell it's something any regular human would be capable of. And even more than this, the survivors of this particular type of abuse have found it extremely, extremely difficult to figure out they've been abused, even when they've been put through extreme, devastating, and absolutely dehumanizing scenarios. Realizing that your loved one is a narcissist requires your entire world to break down, and every piece of your heart shatters in the realization, and it takes months, even years to accept it.

The only way we can possibly figure it out is to connect the patterns. And patterns of the narcissistic abuse are focused on erasing one's own sense of self, one's perspective and ultimately, complete control over someone's emotions and behaviours. This is often done from early on, the grooming process starts at age zero, your value, worth and usefulness is determined by them, and you cannot wrangle yourself free from it on your own, not without someone confirming to you that you've been held captive, that your free will has been taken a long time ago.

Unfortunately, I have to give some examples, because I don't think it can be explained otherwise. When I was 2 years old, a narcissistic person found it a nuisance to watch over me, and they beat me up every time I disobeyed. I was a toddler. Then they proceeded to convince me that I was a demon, and would burn in hell regardless of what I do for the rest of my life. I've been brainwashed by this person to believe I was not a human being, had no human rights, that it was correct and regular for me to be locked up, beaten, and that it was my fault every single time, even when I did all that was asked of me. This person then had me comfort them after they would beat me, because it was a stressful experience for them. I wasn't allowed to cry. I would be beaten for making a face expression they didn't like. It was random and unexplainable.

Another narcissistic person created a game where they would give me wrong instructions for a task, then torture me when I did exactly as they instructed me to. It got to a point where I would beg them to tell me what to do correctly, and they would respond with a laughing 'you should be old enough to know this' and they would be even happier to beat me up and scream at me for getting it wrong. This person not only threatened to kill me regularly, but often made me believe I was in my last few seconds of life, putting me in position where I believed I was about to die. They forced me to work for them in unsafe conditions, heavy physical jobs, where I was not allowed to say I'm tired, not allowed to cry, and even after I'd do everything, they would still tell me I didn't deserve to eat. I was a child. I didn't think for a second I was being abused. I was already brainwashed to believe that everyone else had it worse, and that I was lucky.

I had no identity besides existing for them, I had no free will except to try and make myself into something they could use, and if I didn't do a good enough job, I'd be ostracized. They loved beating me, screaming at me and making me cry, and then they'd leave me in a room crying without being allowed to make any noise, while they laughed in the room next to me, as a family, loudly so I could hear what a great time they were having. They would treat other children gently in front of me in order to try and make me jealous. They would revise every part of what they did to me if I ever tried to bring it up. I wasn't allowed my own perspective, opinion, or complaint. I wasn't even allowed to remember the abuse correctly. I would be locked in a room and questioned and punished if my opinions weren't to their liking.

I don't believe this is something anyone is capable of doing. I don't believe anyone of us is capable of torturing a kid until the kid begs to be killed. I don't believe most of us are capable of erasing a child's point of view, their reality, their humanity to the point where the child is forced to live a life where they will either comply or be killed, and they will be tortured no matter what. This isn't a regular thing that a person can easily do.

Luckily, us who have been through this, have noticed that there is a specific pattern to their behaviour. That they use almost identical phrases with which their invoke guilt, fear and hopelessness. That they can go frighteningly fast from rage to laughter to acting hurt. That they enforce their will over ours with a specific type of terror that triggers both our survival instincts and our compassion and shame. That we've been groomed by them in an almost identical way - to not believe that we're allowed our own feelings, memories, opinions, point of view, or freedom. That we have learned to exist only to be an extension of them.

We also all noticed that we're all absolutely, beyond terrified of them, and that we don't feel we're allowed to say it, or think it. That we're taught by terror to keep believing that they're good people, that they do none of it on purpose, not even the most extreme, insane, egregious abuse. That they will go to any length, even committing more atrocities, to escape accountability. That they use tactics of darvo, gaslighting, double-bind, planting insecurities, triangulating, future faking, discarding, love bombing, mirroring, smear campaigns, projection, scapegoating, silencing, throwing tantrums, victim playing, like it's in their second nature. That they're genuinely, absolutely terrifying and almost unreal in how far they're capable of going. And most of all, that they are dangerous, and capable of completely turning another human being into their puppet, and never think for a second that it might be wrong. To them, we are nothing more but toys to manipulate, control, and discard. We are disposable. There is no limit to what they can do to us, because to them, we are not alive. They would do to us what normal people wouldn't do to a corpse. And they feel superior for it.

People abused by narcissists from early age are likely to develop the most complex and extreme disorders, complex ptsd and dissociative identity disorder being some of them, because that's what it takes to survive being a child and existing next to a narcissist. This means that small children need to be shattered in pieces in order to please the narcissist. Others that are very common are eating disorders, anxiety, depression, paranoia, avoidant personality disorder, panic disorder, and compulsions to cater to everyone's needs, to the point of our own destruction. This is what they make of us, on purpose, in order for us to be of use to them. And they will forever insist it's their right.

When I'm saying the word 'narcissist', I am not referring to 'anyone diagnosed with npd', I am referring to a person who will do this to a child, and insist on doing it for the rest of the child's life. I am writing it because I don't want children to have to live like this forever. I am not aiming to dehumanize the narcissist, their actions show who they are, I am saying, be careful and aware that this person will dehumanize you. That you are disposable to them. That making you feel good in order for you to like them, is a game to them, and one they're very good at. That playing the victim at you and demanding justice, will easily manipulate you into standing against the victims of abuse and talking down to them for 'dehumanizing their abusers', and being 'ableist to the npd', after being tortured past the point of return by those people.

A lot of us are permanently damaged by what's been done to us. We are not asking for justice. We're not asking for revenge. We are asking to be safe. We're asking for this to stop. We're asking for children not to be left alone with people who are dangerous to this level. We're asking you to understand that a narcissist left alone with a child means a child in danger.

It's common to not be aware just how bad it can go, because we think that most humans know not to torture a child. We believe that nobody would do things to children that narcissists do. If you read the stories of the survivors, you'll find out what actually happens behind closed doors. The themes of torture, dehumanization, sexual abuse, brainwashing, violence, and extreme cruelty are common, even towards toddlers.

I need you to not attack those children when they grow up and say they no longer want to be around narcissists. I need you to understand that they know what they're talking about when they say it's not safe, that they want to be protected. The society already failed to protect them at their most vulnerable, and they had to make it alive by their wits alone. And now you won't even let them speak without attacking them? It's inexcusable.

If you want to know about the narcissists, read what their victims have gone through. Then make a judgment on whether we're allowed to speak, and whether it's worth warning others to hold caution. I've heard and read stories of narcissistic parents sex-trafficking their own child, holding them captive and locked up and convincing them it's right to do this, using brutal punishments to 'train' them into inhumane slave-like behaviour, keeping the children in state so terrified the children wished they were dead. And in all those cases, they still convinced the children to love their parents, and to never blame them for any kind of abuse. Yes, even in the sex-trafficking cases.

Fighting for those children to realize that they didn't deserve that, is the only correct thing to do. Fighting to help them realize they're in danger, and that they deserve safely, it's not only right but extremely necessary, it's what we all should be putting all of our energy into.

Wanting to keep others safe will never be wrong. Wanting to protect those who still have their identity, their sense of self, their undamaged humanity, their free will and their point of view, that's worth fighting for! And above all, those who already lost it all, need to be protected. We cannot allow for already badly wounded people to be dehumanized over and over again. Nobody deserves that.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Tiny Eclipse, tugging on Moon’s pants: Love me?

Moon: No.

Tiny Eclipse, tugging Moon’s arm: Pleeeeeeeeeeeease? Uppies?

Moon: NO!

Solar: Come on, little man. Uppie. *plucks him up like a sack or potatoes and holds him*

Tiny Eclipse: *pleased noises*

[thechaoticlittlejester]

New tadc au soon!!

The au:

⚠Trigger warning: Alcohol use, drugs, abuse⚠

Okay, I have no idea if this is already made or something but I had this idea that Caine was actually a human in the past.

This isn't a theory so there's like no evidence but in the au Caine was the father of Pomni, age 13, and, with his brother Able, was one of the CEO's of Caine & Able industries and they were working on tadc, a new vr game.

With all this work, he left Pomni (I have no name ideas) alone at home a lot. She was alone almost all the time and her mother couldn't even stand up unless it was to get another bottle.

One day, Caine left to work and never returned. Pomni was soon informed that he went missing at work. Even with an investigation, Caine was nowhere to be found. Soon, Pomni went to live with Able and her mother was arrested for child abvse.

Pomni, now age 15, was happy for a short while. Able was starting to act weird and it worried Pomni. Able was seemingly getting angry and more irritable. Pomni, having delt with her mother, knew not to bother him. With this ignorance, Pomni was able to do drvgs and Able never knew.

After years of neglectance, Pomni, now 20, moved out and took notice that Able seemed upset that she left. She shrugged it off and got a small apartment for herself. She soon got her life back on track but struggled to find a job.

She lived alone for 5 years until she got a call from Able. He asked her to come visit his job for opportunities and Pomni, needing a job, agreed and drove to C&A industries.

Able dazzled her and got her to come with him to the basement room to try the new vr set model. She had a bad feeling but didn't think he would do anything to her... why would he anyways?

When they went down and Able suddenly hit her on the side of the head with a metal bar, knocking her out. When she woke up, Able had tied her down and forced the headset onto her head.

When Pomni woke up, she woke up in the circus...

After math:

Eventually, Pomni finds out that Caine is her father and this sends her off. She remembers how he left her with an abvsive mother and then disappeared and snapped in front of everyone, Shocking them.

It basically went like this:

Caine feels bad and tries to make it up to Pomni and be a better father to her in the circus. He even tries to help her find the exit or a glitch in the code.

With this, chaos unfolds as Able enters the circus and Caine disappears again. This makes Pomni think that he's abandoning her again and it makes her stomach curl. Soon, the circus members find out what really happened to Caine. Pomni couldn't be more angry.

(Want more? Don't forget to leave a like or reblog! That will give me more motivation to continue)

[dorkofclanlavellan]

Break In

Note 1: Requested by an anon a while back. I got inspired after waking up at 3 am and started writing. Then accidentally purged my inbox before I could copy the actual request. Note 2: This is set in the same storyline as Bruce Wayne's Sweetie (I think indirect sequel is the wording I'm looking for) Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batfleck) x GN!Reader (referred to as Sweetie instead of y/n) Warnings: Mediocre writing skills, Bruce's anxiety over Sweetie, swearing, good ole b&e, mentions of murder, mentions of child abuse, switching POVs. I'm so sorry.

"Of fuckin' course this happens on a Monday." Sweetie swore under their breath as they drove back towards their bakery. "Just don't get pulled over, dummy."

They were almost home when they realized they'd left their cell phone and wallet in the bakery. They didn't like being late monitoring Bruce's patrols. As it was, he had already been on patrol for about an hour.

Little did Sweetie know, as they parked in their usual spot behind the bakery, that the silent alarm had been tripped.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Bruce had just left the scene of a store hold-up turned to murder, determined to find the killers before the end of the night.

After he was securely in the Batmobile he noticed the alert that someone had tripped the silent alarm to Sweetie's bakery.

"Alfred, has Sweetie shown up yet?" He questioned, a tinge of worry in his voice. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions. Sweetie was the type of person to stop and help turtles cross the road and has come home late with a stray kitten before.

"No, sir, I haven't heard from them. But you know it's not unusual for them." Alfred's response would've almost reassured Bruce.

But after what the Joker did to Dick years ago, and after what he had seen at the convenience store tonight, Bruce couldn't shake the dread in his stomach.

He decided to track their phone, just to be safe, it was one of the things they'd agreed to shortly after he revealed that he was Batman to them. That along with a new security system that was connected directly to him and the GCPD.

Fear squeezed Bruce's heart when he saw that Sweetie's phone was still at the bakery and he immediately began racing towards the bakery. Hoping he wouldn't be too late.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Sweetie hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary at first but when they opened the back door of the bakery, they heard a slight rustling noise further into the bakery. Grasping the stun gun Bruce had given them Sweetie moved as silently as possible towards the light switch. When they flipped the lights on, though, the sight before them nearly shattered their heart.

A child. Couldn't be older than 13. He was crouched down by the front display case, which had been pried open with the crowbar at his side next to a dim flashlight, and was wolfing down a loaf of bread that was baked just that afternoon.

Sweetie could see the all too familiar signs that they had personally experienced. Clothes that were in just good enough condition to keep authorities from being notified. A couple of bruises at various stages of healing that could easily be dismissed as normal childhood occurrences, but Sweetie knew better. He was staring at them like a deer in headlights, trying to figure out how to escape.

Pushing back tears that had surfaced along with the memories of their own shitty childhood, Sweetie broke the silence.

"You know that bread won't fill you up very well. Why don't you take a seat and I'll make you a bowl of stew?" They said in a tone that was both gentle and let the kid know that they weren't taking no for an answer.

Sweetie walked around the still-frozen kid, behind the counter. They noticed the register was untouched, as was their wallet which was sitting on the shelf below.

They remembered the silent alarm and put in the code to let the police know it was a false alarm. They then spoke with an officer on the store's phone and assuring him that they had just doubled back to retrieve their phone and wallets and forgot about the alarm.

But knew if Bruce had seen the alert, he wouldn't be satisfied until he showed up and talked with them face to face. Sweetie turned and faced the kid who'd finally stood up but still looked ready to bolt.

"Actually, why don't you join me in the kitchen. You can tell me what you do and don't like." With that said, Sweetie walked into the kitchen and breathed a silent sigh of relief at the sound of the kid reluctantly following them.

The last thing either one of them needed was for Batman to come barging in and scaring the shit out of an already terrified kid.

Sweetie made sure to position themselves between the kitchen door and the kid while they got everything together to make stew.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Bruce found himself wishing the Batmobile to move faster or at least for the bakery to not be on the other side of Gotham. The longer it took for him to reach Sweetie, the more terrified and enraged he became. If anything happened to Sweetie, the person responsible would be given no mercy.

"Sir, it would seem that the alarm at the bakery has been classified as a false alarm." Alfred's voice interrupted Bruce's dark thoughts. As Alfred read off the officer's notes on the phone call. Bruce noted that while it did sound like something Sweetie would do, he didn't believe it to be the case.

He was still going, as far as he was concerned, Sweetie had claimed false alarm under duress.

Once he finally reached the bakery, he couldn't get inside fast enough. He didn't notice the lights were on until he busted open the back door.

He was very confused when he didn't see anyone in the main area. Especially after spotting a crowbar on the floor next to a flashlight and Sweetie's phone on the counter.

Then he heard noises coming from the kitchen and followed the sounds as quickly but quietly as he could. He didn't want to risk the perp harming Sweetie if they were a hostage.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"When's the last time you had a proper meal, kid?" Sweetie asked casually while chopping up a carrot for the stew.

"I get free lunches at school." The kid mumbled.

Sweetie had learned that once the kid had realized they weren't going to hurt him, he had taken on a surly demeanor that almost made them laugh. They knew the kid was putting on a tough act and they knew why. Their brother was the same way.

"My dad kept a lock on the fridge that only he had the key to. During the summer my brother and I only ate peanut butter sandwiches, instant ramen, and whatever candy bars we could shoplift." Sweetie informed the kid, which seemed to get his attention. "And if he caught us with a stolen candy bar or trying to get in the fridge, he had this paddle he made at the lumber yard he worked at for a while. It had been painted blue and wrapped in blue tape. He'd made us watch as he wrote our names on it in Sharpie. My brother tried hiding it once, my dad just used a bat on him until he revealed where he hid it. Sure it was a plastic one, not a real one but still."

Sparing a glance over their shoulder at the kid, they could see the look on his face that confirmed what they already suspected.

"Do you like celery?" They asked, changing the subject for a moment. After getting his answer, Sweetie resumed making the stew.

They heard the kitchen door open and based on the gasp and scrambling noises coming from the kid's direction, they already knew who it was.

"Batman. I'm making stew." They said, looking up at their lover's masked face which was now contorted in a look of surprise and confusion. "Would you like to join me and….what's your name anyway, kid?" They asked turning towards the boy who was now standing in the far corner of the kitchen, gawping at The Dark Knight.

The boy's eyes slowly turned towards them and his jaw moved a couple of times with no sound coming out before he managed to choke out a single word.

"Jason."

[punkstylerecovery]

I get so tired of how people get so wishy-washy over neglect being abuse. Neglect is encouraged hand-in-hand with other types of abuse, especially for children and it's important to understand what it is.

A lot of people seem to think since neglect can happen accidently or people can be forced to neglect their children through poverty/abuse/ect, that means it's not necessarily abuse. But that's not how abuse works. Abuse can happen accidently, it can be forced, it is affected by things like poverty or other abuses happening at the same time.

Just because neglect is a complicated issue doesn't mean it's not abuse, it just means you need to understand abuse is also a complicated issue.

[altermay]

Tw/ transphobia, discussions of dysphoria, brief mention of suicide, descriptions of child abuse

Getting unbearable. Feeling sick. Started working to afford hormones only to find out the service that is most accessible to me (plume) doesnt offer T in alabama anymore due to changing laws. Fuck all these stupid politicians putting their noses in others lives.

Thought people at work wouldnt make a super huge deal, as I was selective with who I told, so i thought maybe I could hold out a bit longer and at least i wouldnt have to feel so dysphoric all the time, since all my coworkers knew me as Monte. But then instead of my name, people who would usually call anyone else by their name started calling me “Miss” and “maam”

Even the ones I had come out to, and even the ones who told me they were accepting.

Whatever, im from a small rural area, so transphobia is not new to me, what is new to me, however, is being openly trans in an unfamilliar environment. I thought I could start T quickly and maybe people would ever forget that im trans in the first place, but now its been so long.

Some people call me He, and use the right pronouns, but increasingly lately Ive received a myriad of transphobia.

Being called tranny loudly while my coworker kicks my broom as I try to sweep (kicking hard enough for the broom to almost leave my hands and hit another person behind me) , Getting called “it” behind my back. Stuff like this is becoming more common.

The two coworkers who called me it, have been spreading lies about my work performance these past five days, Ive been told my three different people that every time I leave to go do something they start talking badly of me. So I got to my breaking point, at this point it had nothing to do with the pronouns, I was just upset that two forty+ year old adults were purposefully making my job harder to do while I was also struggling with a ton of other stuff (ptsd, seasonal depression, a family members recent suicide) and so I couldnt stop crying.

Despite this situation having nothing to do with me being trans, they are now trying to spread the narrative that Im just being sensitive because they were misgendering me while they were borderline bullying me.

If I was not trans, people would take me seriously on these issues. But now, because I am upset, suddenly Im just a stereotype. A sensitive trans person who is offended because someone used the wrong pronouns a few times.

I will be one to say, I do not give a SHIT about my pronouns. Ive been called the wrong ones my whole life by a majority of people. That was never the issue. But because Im trans, that is the only issue people can perceive for me to have. The ONE issue I had with them regarding my pronouns was them calling me “it” and thats not because its the wrong pronoun, thats because its DEHUMANIZING.

But now I have other coworkers who know NOTHING about the situation saying shit like “well if she claims shes a man maybe she should suck it up” “well if she wants to be seen as a man maybe she shpuld cut her hair”

Fuck you. How about YOU get beaten for 17 years, YOU watch your siblings get beaten near to death for 17 years. YOU have flashbacks of things you dont understand all day every day and we will see how fucking well youre able to “suck it up” you are WEAK. YOU ARE ALL WEAK. And you dont know what its like to be me. My mother tried to kill me. My mother almost killed my sister, I was neglected, never went to a doctor, and I STILL dont know how to take care of myself. And I still havent recovered all of the memories.

Ive had SHORT HAIR ive had LONG HAIR Ive had a MOHAWK, ive had a BUZZCUT ive been BALD. And people STILL fucking saw me as a woman. Im tired of conforming to this bullshit just so people can treat me the same as they always do

Fun fact though, since Ive had long hair Ive been gendered correctly by strangers MORE than I have with ANY OTHER HAIR STYLE.

These stupid fucking transphobes and their stupid fucking stereotypes im so fucking sick of it all. And corporate wont do anything about it, Im sure of this.

Why is it so hard for me to just live my fucking life.

Im so sick of it all

[furiousgoldfish]

I finally caved in and started using pain medicine to deal with the pain. This was a very hard thing for me to do, because for the most of my life, I believed that I both didn't deserve any medicine, and that it was bad for me.

Thinking back, my family used a lot of medicine daily, but when I was sick, I was told to 'work through it' or that my immune system had to be strong enough to take it. I wasn't even taken to the doctor unless there was a culmination of multiple issues at once. Even when taken to the doctor, I've been told over and over what a burden I was, how much of their time I was wasting, and how I got sick on purpose.

I became convinced that if I wanted to be healthy, I would bear any sickness without the help of doctors or medicine. This conviction became so strong that if I was forced to take any medicine, I would have a volatile reaction, start having a complete breakdown or immediately get sicker. I started believing that my body is resistant to medicine and breaks down if any is introduced. It was more likely that I was hanging onto my belief that I had to be 'strong enough to survive anything without medicine' so much, that if this got violated, I would psychologically break down and believe myself weak and broken permanently.

As an adult, I would take medicine only when pain was such high level it was unbearable and pushing me into suicidal thoughts. And lately, I've been having lots of that, pain so severe it would paralyze me completely, I wouldn't be able to speak or think, I would even end up making noises, which, I was trained not to do, even when tortured. There was an instance where I was in so much pain I couldn't control my hands enough to take medicine, and found myself having to ask someone else to give it to me - which was horrifying to me. And I finally realized, I can't wait that long. I have to take the medicine before it gets to such extreme levels.

So, I am slowly letting go of my ideas that medicine will make me weak or mess with my immune system. I'm looking up what medicine does to the body and for the first time, seeing realistically what the risks are, what is happening inside of me if I take any, what are the possible side-effects, what will it truly do to my immune system. The entire process is extremely scary, because I built so much of my identity on that perceived toughness and 'medicine is bad' mindset. Just casually learning that I've been wrong about everything for all of my life is a lot to swallow. But I can't live like this anymore. I can't stand any more of the pain. Even if medicine will give me some mild side effects, or is a bit tough on my stomach, taking it responsibly will not give me any permanent damage. It will keep me alive through the pain and make it survivable. I can't live in an amount of pain that is making me suicidal.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Baby Eclipse: Mama!

Sun: Hell no.

Baby Eclipse, tearing up: Mama?

Sun: I am not your mother!

Baby Eclipse, at New Moon: Ot’ew Mama…?

New Moon: I know, baby, Sunny’s upset right now. It’s okay.

[anthromimicry]

OH, speaking of misao, while i'm still here... let me talk about how she was introduced to playing instruments + why she still does it often to this day. as you may know, misao's mother — kaiyah — did suffer from mental health issues, and in ancient japan... they were very behind in terms of providing the appropriate care to those who had mental health concerns. while doing research on it, i also discovered that it was also unfortunately HEAVILY stigmatized and thought of to be caused by spirits and/or brought about by spiritual means. and so kaiyah would often have to find ways to try to help herself cope with her symptoms; one of which turned out to be music. and misao remembers which instrument kaiyah used to play vividly because listening to her play music, as well as sing, was one of the ways that they'd bond despite them having a rather complicated relationship. kaiyah used to play the biwa, which is a plucked string instrument that sort of resembles a guitar and whenever she'd play, kaiyah would sit cross-legged. and this wasn't only because that was the traditional way to play the biwa, but so that misao could sit in her lap as she strummed the instrument. and misao also remembers kaiyah just looking at her with this look that was just made up of pure happiness during those moments. which, although they were very ephemeral, kind of helped her pull through her childhood because they gave her hope that maybe she could be like this all the time at first; and then upon discovering that although that might not be the most realistic thing to think... it helped her pull through because she would believed that she rather hold onto whatever scrap of happiness she could get, rather than try to forget these experiences with her mother, because of the fact that they hurt her so badly emotionally sometimes. and this was because she wanted to help kaiyah the same way that music seemed to — she just didn't know how. but as the years passed, misao came up with the idea that maybe learning to play it could be a method in which she could assist kaiyah with feeling more... at peace, i guess you could say, and so she did.

though misao only got to play the biwa for her mother a few times before ryu was born, and whenever that happened, everything changed. but of course... none of it was his fault. all those good feelings that misao had associated with the biwa now had a sort of bitter taste to them because of kaiyah's neglect towards ryu and once more, although this conflict was a lot more nuanced than it might've appeared because of her mother's illness, misao felt this strong urge to just completely smash her biwa into pieces because she felt so bad inside. though, honestly, misao is glad that she didn't today. because it honestly is one of the few things that she still has around that reminds her of kaiyah, and although she literally cannot play it because the last time she did, misao just sobbed all the way through it — she was able to pick up another instrument that vaguely reminded her of the biwa and allowed her to reconnect with that old part of herself: which would be the guitar. but it is a very private part of herself that she doesn't reveal to a lot of people. she'll really only play the guitar around people she really trusts, as whenever she's playing it, it's almost like she's playing to her mother again.

[a-sip-of-milo]

Hoooooly shit, there's so many racists in the jeffrey Dahmer documentary.

How can you sit there and talk about the state that Konerak was found in, the multiple witnesses who begged those police officers to take them seriously, and listen to the conversation that happened between those police officers not long afterwards, and still deny that there was at least some racism going on?

if that call had been made about a white victim, said victim would have been rescued instantly. And I don't care how drunk the victim was - if they're walking down the street with no clothes on, bleeding from their rectum, cuts on their body and completely incoherent, you take it fucking seriously.

[cryingintoahandheldmirror]

Was anybody else raised by a father who simultaneously: hated, was repulsed by, and was scared of them resulting in them being neglected and ultimately abandoned even though he was in no way forced into creating you.

And then found Mary Shelley's frankenstein and both gripped on to and internalized everything about it. The idea that your a monster and a victim and that your broken and unlovable and that its all your fathers fault.

That if he just cared you you wouldn't have turned out so hard to love. That being loved no matter how much you work on yourself feels down right sisyphean.

And that in a way you and the creature are one and the same.

(I promise I've never killed anyone I swear)

And your anger tastes so bitter cause if he just tried a little bit you wouldn't be so damn angry all the time.

(He's been gone forever and still your not free of him)

To the point that you wanted a "I am thy creature, I ought to be thy adam" tattoo that you eventually gave up on.

Cause goodness it's like I gripped onto the book to get the validation my father should have given me. That's why I keep rereading it despite crying every time.

And it's not like my mom's dead or not around. She did her best. Shes just to kind and good to ever understand this. And the worst part is I adore my mother. She didn't even know.

How could I tell someone that's enough, that they aren't enough

(But she wants to know why I'm so angry and gloomy and self depreciating. As if my father didn't hate me. )

And I tried to find perspectives of the book from the standpoint of a abused, neglected, or abandoned person and found very little. I don't wanna gatekeep Frankenstein but like... how?

In America alone there's about 7000 abandonments a year of children

(Acording to Google dont hold me to this)

Basically scholars and teachers perspectives are nice but I would like to hear more people who were traumatized as children talk about Frankenstein, cause though I don't endorse what the monster did, (and I'm not saying traumatized people are murderers) I feel like we have a unique perspective that can't exactly be learned.

Also is it abuse to hate your child enough that they relate more to the so called monster then to victor

[cdd-system-terms]

Involunharm

[pt: involunharm. end pt]

not requested by anyone

Involunharm [In-vol-un-harm]

Involun: involuntary

A term for alters that hold trauma related to being forced to harm someone (for RAMCOA/OEA/TBMC/programmed systems only), regardless of how much or how bad. This can include any sort of harm or abuse, regardless of how minor or how major you consider it to be. This includes failed attempts to harm someone. This can also include being forced to harm or attempt to harm animals, not just people. Some examples would be physical abuse, verbal abuse, neglect, sexual abuse, rape, animal abuse, mental abuse, pyschological abuse, emotional abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, religious abuse, grooming, bullying or cyberbullying, sextortion, etc. It can also include abusing someone into developing or fully developing a disorder, worsening their existing disorder symptoms (regardless of if they have the "full-blown" disorder or if they are only showing some traits), and/or intentionally triggering their disorders. Disorder examples are dissociative disorders, addictions, eating disorders, personality disorders, etc. It can also include worsening physical issues.

The harm can be done to anyone or anything (such as animals) of any age, sex, gender, etc.

The syskid version would be Involunharmkid and the same flag is used for both terms.

*-someone can coin a similar term for non-programmed systems, I don’t mind ^^ But I am using the involun- prefix for programmed systems exclusively

[nebou]

it’s so crazy that jumin was there for 17 hours as the longest time which means there were times he was there 15 hours, 10 hours, even one hour or 30 minutes is already too long. i wonder how that trauma affects him like..in his adult/teenage life

OMG YES, THAT WAS JUST THE WORST OF IT.

and i mean, we can see exactly how that trauma effects him now as an adult based off his BRE1: Jumin now views closed off spaces as a safe space.

it's kinda like how he used his mother's abusive words against him as mask i.e. when he was a child she would call him emotionless and overly-mature as a method to demean him. when he was little we saw him try to rebel against that assertion but as an adult, he uses those "facts" as a crutch so he doesn't have to look at himself and see how emotionally tangled and childish he is. it also doubles as a mask he can put forth so others don't notice how "different" he really is from others, especially since he wasn't given the proper space to acknowledge that side of him let alone identify it. i'm sure plenty of us fellow autistics can relate to that

similarly, the basement was a punishment for him. if you don't act normal->you don't get to be around others. it's horrible and traumatizing, even more so when we consider how young he was. but in a backwards kinda way, even though that punishment was 100% a bad experience, it also likely had the added effect of somehow relieving Jumin of his desire to keep up appearances. he's already being punished, and there's no one around to judge him for being the way he is. he's completely alone, but, free from judgment.

so in his BRE1, he flees to his "safe space", even if it really is just a punishment to himself, Jumin's learned to internalize the pain of loneliness as a lesser threat than that of the pain of otherness :' [

on another note, he himself seems to be keenly aware of how painful it is to be locked up. he mentions in his route(iirc an outgoing call?) how sorry he feels that he "has" to do this to MC. i bet with his trauma of being kidnapped/held hostage, it really compounds into 1.) this need to stay out of the public's eye and 2.) by extension keep his "things" out of the public's eye. the public is otherness. the public is danger. and while the basement/penthouse may be utterly lonely(read:painful), it is safe from what Jumin fears the most.