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anglobear
Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame.
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tachten
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I forgot to mention that from 14-15, I was molested by my own mother but this post in revolving around whether or not I was when I was a very, very, very young
TW: Mentions of S/A, suicidal thoughts, & eating disorders
I’ve been doing a lot of self reflection and I honestly think I went through some type of csa but couldn’t remember it because I was either way too young or dissociative amnesia.
Not too long ago, I had a dream where I was running butt naked from my dad because he was trying to finger me without my consent. I was either my current age (24) or a toddler iirc.
To add insult to injury, I look at the symptoms of CSA & a chunk of them applied to me
I don’t want to automatically say I’ve went through it when I was a toddler/young child as that would be a slap to the face to actual victims but yeah
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Fair nuff
It’s official. I’m obsessed with Wally Darling
I ain’t beating the autism allegations
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It’s official. I’m obsessed with Wally Darling
I ain’t beating the autism allegations
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I never uploaded my updated Jimmy Neutron designs! I think it’d be funny if a modern JN reboot had at 2000s aesthetic both animation-wise and also for the look of Retroville and its citizens fashion
My friend Eric did an animation using these designs! It came out SO GOOD
youtube
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TD doodles but it's only characters my brother told me to draw
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au where kirby is on the cheer squad instead of the football team as their flyer and he is bring it on levels of serious about cheer. he is bffs with mandy, they stand around and talk shit about everyone together.
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Ectoplasm is just ghost jizz
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@lizzobetumblin please narrate my life lol
Melissa hated her feelings.
She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings.
“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name,
‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list:
1.) Don’t cry.
2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate
3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you
She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking,
‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.
‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion.
‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,
“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”
Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry.
9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow.
It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.
Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong.
When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that.
When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.
When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again.
She carried that.
Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:
‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her.
‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’
She cried.
She escalated.
She took it personal.
But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music.
‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose.
The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too.
Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow.
So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks.
Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified.
And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power.
Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her.
And she finally loved them back.
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[Doodle Dump || Buncha Practice Shit]
My shading and art in general has been rusty lately so I decided to practice.
Here we have my gem wives, My 2nd fave human and my not-so-favorite troll (still love her to bits tho), and a random draag character I made years ago when I was obsessed with Fantastic Planet.
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This!!! I got diagnosed with autism when I was 9 (now 24) and I noticed that the traits I originally got diagnosed with are no longer visible bc I grew out of them. I do believe as though I have dyspraxia since I resonate with more of the traits associated
I was misdiagnosed with BPD several years ago - I’m an autistic woman, apparently this is common. Looking back at the way I acted growing up (stimming, ABSOLUTELY NO eye contact, trouble socializing, sound sensitivity) I am amazed that I somehow flew under the radar. I spent so long thinking I was just fundamentally a bad person, and the BPD diagnosis seems like a roundabout way of saying that. (It was from 8 years ago so I’m not sure how long it stays on there, but based on the way I’ve been treated in the past I’m afraid to interact with a psych/therapist ever again)
misdiagnosing autism in women is so common since it's still seen as a male thing & the signs can be slight different. I know that bpd has some similar symptoms wrt emotional deregulation but it's fucking idiotic to diagnose a child, teenager, or even young adult with a personality disorder (like they literally aren't even supposed to do that except in extreme cases of ASPD which can be apparent early on) bc at that point your personality is still in development, it can change quite a bit throughout your adolescence. teenagers are also inherently dramatic & emotionally unstable so it's just ridiculous to label them cluster B bc of it.
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