#where fear/revulsion and attraction does sometimes mingle

[coldforestnight]

I <3 how on the first viewing of stoker it's impossible to tell what India actually feels for uncle Charlie right up until she shoots him through the neck

[theatricalplacenta]

Just having some early morning thoughts on relationships. Contemplating and reflecting on how trauma affects your ability to connect with people or have basic fucking emotions, or how to trust people, or connect with them.

Growing up with a literal bat shit crazy biological mother, who was narcissistic and didn’t love her children beyond loving them as possessions, beat them to shit, verbally abused them, left them in situations where they were sexually abused, and on one occasion even sexually abused her eldest (me) herself; /REALLY/ fucked up my ability to form relationships of any kind. I’ll never leave my friends, and I consider them family because they are much more to me than my birth parents were, and I love them like I love my siblings, but they can leave me, and i will “understand”, because I see myself as unlovable.

Years and years and years of therapy didn’t fix it. Didn’t help it.  Years and years and years of seeing a psychiatrist didn’t help either. Everyone always says “see a shrink”, like it’s an instant fix. Sometimes, things take your whole life to work with, to understand, to make peace with, and learn and teach yourself to do things you would have learned as a child. (Or maybe you had, and became unable to process a certain strain of thoughts, or feelings after a certain situation or occurrence.  Sometimes things are never fixed. Most of the time, you learn to live with it. Ptsd can be reversed... as can depression... but it is not something to expect. Aiming for “normality” can set you back. Striving for perfection instead of taking baby steps towards living with your mental illness; living with yourself, is just setting yourself up for failure. the need to “fix” can make the world seem so much bigger, or can make the path you want to walk seem so much longer as you haven’t planned any pit stops. I use to cry when people would hug me when I went into foster care. My foster mom would ask to hug me, and I had never been asked before. I would say no, until one day I said yes, just to see what it was like. To see what a hug that wouldn’t be accompanied with crazed whispers, or spindly, dagger fingers clawing into my back, keeping me captive as my birth mother conveyed her love and care; love and care that was never present, but she desperately tried to make it seem like it was, and it wasn’t very believable after being beaten to hell and back, screamed at and taken down with verbal assault until she foamed at the mouth and turned red and blue in the face with hatred and anger, or after she would make me watch her beat and abuse my baby brother and sister, my children, that I raised, because I was too strong to be hurt physically. Because hurting them was the only way I would understand how much she “loved me”, and hugging me- making me look, constricting my body- touching the body she so vehemently made me aware of  being ugly and disgusting, putrid-  What would it be like to be hugged by a mom who respected me, and thought I was good, and kind, and artistic, and wanted what was good for me; genuinely... Well... I can tell you. It still repulsed me. Not her- never my foster mom, but the touch. The memories that came with it. The physical feeling of nausea and revulsion, and the instinctual panic and fear that came with it- it was all there. It still is to this day- BUT, just because I am not over it...does not mean I didn’t learn to rationalize, and live with it. See, hugging was bad for me. It still is- but back then, I started going out of my way to welcome hugs, or to initiate them, because I needed to condition myself at the very least, if not train my brain to expect positive interaction with hugs. I do now, but the initial trauma will always be there, and I think I will always feel sick when being hugged, or touched in general- But... I learned to live with it. Not to say that I- nor ANYONE else has to learn to just... “live with it”, because that’s ridiculous... but if you work towards it... just baby steps... things might get better. Hell, I still panic at the sight of shoulder-blade length, wiry, curly, dark hair. I had a full on crying my eyes out silently, breath taking panic attack on a bus from seeing a woman with her hair on the road outside the window. ANYWAY The point is, shit like this affects your relationships on a primary level, and it can stay that way. I don’t have the tools to apply to my own ptsd, nor to attempt to try and help another work past their trauma, and who fucking knows if others do... I honestly haven’t found anyone who gave me factual life advice to ease these sorts of problems, but in general these people, the psychiatrists and therapists, gave me a better understanding of what is happening to me, and why... but I've come to the obvious conclusion that you can’t just /fix/ what is broken when it’s trauma.I can’t make myself attracted to people. I can’t make myself okay with being touched, even if I can become accustomed to it. I can’t just decide to have a relationship with someone like I see so many do.  But does that make me broken? Does that make me strange? Does that make me less of a person? I’m not sure... I love people in my life wholly and unconditionally, and I want to love someone some day in the way of romance.... but is my want for romance simply a want for the idea of romance?  I’m a private person... I don’t like to be nagged or when people are super clingly- or expect to talk to me every single day.... I could never not have my own bed (But i’ll peg that on my bed being my safe place, and only my closest friends may share a bed with me) I’m just.... maybe I’m just meant to die alone. On a sort-of-less-serious note: WHAT IS LOVE- HOW DO I FIND IT.  DO I GO ON TINDER!? DO I HAVE TO BE SKINNY FIRST AND LOOSE ALL THE WEIGHT I PUT ON FOR THE SOUL PURPOSE OF SCARING OFF ANYONE THAT COULD SEE ME SEXUALLY- AND NOW I’M LIKE “Damn, i wonder if sex with a person is cool. The fuck do I do- do I make a craigslist add?  Hire an escort? LOL “HELLO, I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT SEXUAL INTERCOURSE IS LIKE WITH A HUMAN BEING. IS IT AS DISGUSTING AND AWKWARD AS IT SOUNDS? OR IS IT AS HOT AS WHAT I WRITE ABOUT?” SHOULD I JOIN CHRISTIAN MINGLE AND SHOW UP WITH MY RELIGION-HATING ASS!?

AMERICA, ESPLAIN. This has been a delusional 1 am self reflection with Thea. Who should have used those two golden hours of awake time from not sleeping off her pneumonia, to finish colouring her villain deku zine piece! It’s so close to being done, and yet, HERE SHE IS!- wondering about how people could possibly be comfortable getting married, how they find and keep love- how the hell they’re having babies, and living happily- while she’s over here, crying into a bag of mcsweenies original beef jerky, with a dog at her side, and has a 95% expectancy to be living in her car or under a bridge at any given moment.  Life is really something else. I really don’t expect any of you to have read this, but if you have, share your experiences! Maybe you have pointers! Tips! Pick up lines. Maybe you can just re-affirm i’m stupid af and I should just shut the fuck up.