#I don’t know if u would describe that as ‘therapist like’ but it was the only way I could think to describe it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cryptidsdad · 1 year

Text

very fun to be talking about something with a friend/coworker & suddenly get a random, therapist like thought about the topic

#( * ooc. ⟩ ❛ stop posting. shut up. ❜ )#me: talking to another worker about keeping my room organized/keeping most of my stuff in bins instead of decorating #my brain for no fucking reason: hm maybe it’s because u never felt safe with decorating or creating ur own space bc it was always ruined :)#I don’t know if u would describe that as ‘therapist like’ but it was the only way I could think to describe it #there was another intrusive therapy thought about why I’m uncomfortable with most physical affection but I can’t remember it

0 notes

tricktster · 1 year

Note

how long have you been getting burritoed... i love the thought of you guys being together for five years and you still fall for it every time

Slightly NSFW warning but the full backstory for the burritoing is honestly very sweet and i can take absolutely no credit for it being so.

so it has not been five years, it’s only been five months, but given that my tolerance for being in relationships can usually be measured in weeks, five months with me harboring every single desire to keep this going is saying something. but rest assured the burrito thing has always been a threat in this relationship. lemme explain.

see, i met my boyfriend the most romantic way a person can, in that i hopped on tinder one friday when I was bored and he was the most interesting person that night to ask me to grab a drink with him the following week. I agreed, with every expectation that this was going to be a one night stand situation. This was because I had already concluded I would probably sleep with him since he was hot and funny over tinder/text but also, more importantly, because I had decided to plunge back into the dating world after several years of being resolutely single by having what my roommate described as “a wanton winter,” which is a nicer way of saying that I was here to sleep around without any strings remotely attached. I had every intention of this being followed by a slutty spring, sexually-available summer, and perhaps even a fuckboi fall.

All this to say, I was not looking for an actual relationship when I agreed to “grab a drink” with the man who is now my boyfriend. In fact, even though he was categorically hunky all-round? I was by this point in my wanton winter not even optimistically hoping for a good time. I had recently re-discovered that hunky meant absolutely nothing, and was still haunted by memories of sleeping with an extremely attractive massage therapist who was not only terrible in bed but also read me a very bad poem that he’d written afterwards and started crying about the state of his life at one point and also his mom called like 11 times while he was over. Like, my expectations were subterranean.

Now given this background, i presumed that this guy would follow the established pattern set by every other guy i’d hooked up with during wanton winter; we’d go back to my place, fool around, he’d leave, and i’d get occasional “u up” texts from him for the next few weeks until one of us ghosted etc. so like it was a surprise - but certainly not an unpleasant one! - when he asked (a little nervously) post-hookup if he could stay the night. he didn’t want to impose, he explained, but he had a day shift the next morning and it was really late and his house was 24 minutes away and while he didn’t want to be presumptuous he’d thrown what he needed in a backpack just in case and also he wanted to cuddle and be big spoon.

well. this was a deviation. this possibly suggested more interest than just a one night stand.

ideologically i was opposed to the threat this posed to my no commitments wanton winter lifestyle but given that he was significantly cuter and funnier in person than he’d been online and also that he had just absolutely rocked my entire world for several hours(!!!) i was just like “yeah homie you are more than welcome to stay,” and decided against issuing my standard warning whenever anyone proposes sharing a bed with me that “I do not tolerate people attempting to cuddle me in my sleep well so don’t be hurt when you find me as far from you as physically possible tomorrow, and also you may be kicked in the process of me rolling away, and my toenails are inexplicably sharp so you may bleed.”

and then, you know, suddenly the alarm was going off, and he was extracting himself, unwounded, from the big spoon position that I had not felt the unconscious need to escape from all night, and I was just internally like “haha! i might be in trouble!”

that mighta done it on its own, honestly, the whole bit about him being the sole exception i have ever encountered to my instinctual need for space when i’m sleeping. but he was not done. he quietly got ready while i was mulling this development over in a state of half consciousness, and then? instead of slinking out into the barely-morning, that motherfucker very gently rearranged the bedclothes to actually cover me, gave me a kiss, said he’d text me when he got to work, and then the bastard tucked me in.

he then left me, the victim of the cutest goddamn nonsense that has ever happened after a tinder hookup, to process this unexpected turn of events.

I concluded that I was, in fact, in trouble.

so like… needless to say, that act of tucking me in was the death knell for my wanton winter, as well as my adversarial relationship with the concept of developing feelings. I am an extremely crotchety housecat that doesn’t like to be crowded who has unprecedentedly fallen incredibly hard for a wildly enthusiastic golden retriever, and our relationship is foundationally based upon this man’s desire to make me all snug and cozy before he leaves.

the burrito aspect was merely an afterthought. it’s all about the tuck-in babey.

374 notes · View notes

fluxweeed · 9 months

Note

Fandom creators self rec game! Choose five favourites from your own creations (and tell me why, if you like!), then pass on to at least five other people. I'd love to hear what you're proudest of.

OH MY tacky i really really appreciate u sending this my way but do u know how much of a challenge this was 😭 i could give you my most hated soooo much easier!!! but after literally a week of deliberation (so sorry!!!) here is my answer!! i think "favourite" and "proudest of" are two different categories for me – i went with "favourite" here bc i think a proper answer for "proudest of" would need at least 3 hours and input from a licensed therapist

Still the pine-woods scent the moon – 15.5k, E, remus/harry

this was sooo different to anything i’d done before – both in terms of pairing (remus/harry), style (2nd person, slightly higher register) and attitude (really tried to be chill about the process instead of hating every second lmao). there are still many things i think could have been done much better, but i think this is the closest i’ve come to liking one of my fics 😖

The Taste of Țuică – 15k, E, ron/harry/draco

this was actually another attempt to make myself enjoy writing – i remembered that when i was younger, i found 1st person easiest to write, so i figured i’d give that a go and see what happened. i was also trying to get better at actually describing locations (a goal i think i immediately abandoned after this fic lmao whoops) so i spent a lot of time coming up with the stupid Rich Person details of draco’s bedroom – it was a fun challenge to try to improve one of my weaker areas!!

For Lack of Wanting – 8.5k, E, drarry

i’d had the image of draco acting like his old self and harry being into it in my head for ages, but i never really imagined it to turn out as angsty as this ended up being – but it was fun to try to capture a different mood than i usually go for! was still really trying to not be so grumpy about writing with this one – there’s a loooot of stuff in this that’s pretty clumsy, but i decided not to care on purpose bc i wanted to focus on the sexy sadness of it all instead 😅

Fresh Eyes – 250, M, drarry

idk man i’m usually such a fucking rambler (last month i posted a stupid PWP that takes place in a single morning and it was a whole 17k words) that i’m lowkey pleased i managed to do anything coherent with 250 words. also i love doing the thing where something is different on a second read.

Thirst – 4.5k, E, drarry

this is quite old and i don’t think it’s particularly good in any sense but there’s a soft spot in my heart for it anyway. i think maybe i’m just into vampires ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

@tackytigerfic i really really loved reading your thoughts about your five faves! it always makes me so happy to see you talk about modern love in particular – having a fic that is the one you always wanted to write, was easy to do and evokes fondness years on is such a dream!! my heart warms every time you talk about it!!! + thank u again for tagging (does this count as a tag?) me in this!

#tag game #my fic

27 notes · View notes

evangelineshifts · 2 months

Note

Honestly I feel like I need to talk with u abt smth, the way I love my s/o’s is honestly smth I can’t explain. It’s tender but deep and even if I haven’t shifted there I can still feel it, it’s deep. And with my dc dr the way I feel abt my friends is different from the way I feel abt my s/o’s(naturally) but what I’m talking abt is specifically abt how I feel for Jon(Jonathan Kent) and Damian(Damian Wayne). Like it’s a deep kind of friendship that I don’t know how to explain, like the love I have for them isn’t romantic at all it’s platonic but deeper than that. It’s like the way i feel abt family but even then it’s not deep enough, we’re best friends. Like very close friends, I’d say we’re all like siblings but that doesn’t feel deep enough to describe our friendship. Like we do everything together, laugh together, eat together, film together, we have sleepovers often, we share everything and it’s so cathartic to just think abt. Like when I shift there(haven’t shifted yet but will [try] tonight🫡) I know I’ll call them first, I’ll look for them first because they’re my team, they’re my friends, my family. Idk what that kind of friendship is called so some insight would be helpful❤️-🦭

i think they’d classify more as soulmates?? soulmates dont have to be romantic cause i feel this way about @reiashiftsrealities and my scripted best friend Savanna!! i take them with me everywhere cause i couldnt imagine living somewhere they weren’t. my sisters, best friends, therapists, worst influences, confidentes, and loves of my lives they are. They’re pieces of my soul im sure of it and i think Dami and Jon could be yours!!!

#evangelineshifts ˖⋆࿐໋₊#angel messages 🪽✨#🦭 anon #anon 🍓#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #desired reality #shifting realities #law of assumption #quantum jumping #manifestation #neville goddard

11 notes · View notes

rashoumon-homo · 7 months

Note

Is the kin thing over?? If not, can u judge me by my kins? My kins are ranpo, chuuya, fyodor and dazai ‼️

Still going, just a little slowly! That’s quite a diverse range of kins, but let me see what I can deduce:

You are smart and that’s one of your core traits. Like what I mean is if someone asked you to describe yourself in 3 words, one of them would be “smart”

You have strong intuition

Feeling “special” (whatever that means to you) has always been something you’ve sought out

You’re confident in your abilities. You know what you’re good at and you don’t second guess your skills

Dark academia. I bet you have a Pinterest board for it

Specific guess: you’re a bit of a picky eater

Other specific guess: your room is a mess. Not quite a pigsty, but messy enough that you probably should tidy up

You can make your therapist laugh during appointments, like you put on an “entertainer” persona during therapy even though you know it’s a bad habit

Last specific guess: you like spicy candy, like those Mexican candy flavors with chili and stuff (do they have that other places? I’m realizing that might just be a thing where I live)

#judging you based on your kins #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd kin #bsd ranpo #bsd chuuya #bsd fyodor #bsd dazai

10 notes · View notes

souryogurt64 · 2 years

Note

totally agree w u about how the internet has affected how people talk abt mental health. tiktok and twitter are really bad but a surprisingly contender is reddit which is just insane like the amount of posts I see on there where someone describes as issue in their marriage and the commenters are diagnosing their partner with cluster b personality disorders based on one secondhand account is crazy and also irresponsible considering these people are seeking advice and therefore probably taking what they say into account? for my peace of mind I hope those posts are fake. I know the millennial redditors probably aren’t the same people armchair diagnosing gerard way but it speaks to a broader issue where people w no background in any of this feel comfortable applying diagnosis they obviously don’t understand to complete strangers

Yeah also I feel like the normalization of therapy online has also sucked in many ways similar to this because it causes people fundamentally misunderstand how it is and what it works and think theres some wise doctor that's going to judge right and wrong and fix everything when that's not what it is.

Because your therapist gets a one-sided account of what happened, and then if you're using how your therapist responded as a weapon in a conflict with another person, you are giving the other person yet another one-sided account of what happened in therapy. It's also your therapist's literal actual job to be nice to you and validate your feelings, so they're almost always going to validate your feelings somehow, which people misinterpret as taking a side.

But since it's "My therapist," they are viewed as superior to a human person and therefore impossible to argue against. It's also pretty easy to find therapists that agree with just about any viewpoint because therapists are not God. Like when I was younger my parents doctor-shopped for a therapist that was very homophobic and Christian and actively encouraged my mom emotionally abusing me. People would be like "Well, those aren't REAL therapists!". Well, they are, because the bar to be a therapist is not that high, and there are real actual doctors with bad takes too.

So anyway, putting that aside and even just well meaning and normal therapists talking through conflict between normal people. Like, lets say you get in a fight with your friend because you were extremely late for an event for the twentieth time but this time it caused you and your friend to miss most of an expensive concert your friend was excited for and paid for so they get upset with you.

Then you go to therapy and you're like, "My friend is mad at me and said I was acting shitty because I was late for something but I can't help it and it's not my fault because I'm depressed so it hurt my feelings!!!". Then your therapist is like "I can see how your friend's comment really hurt you. You're not a shitty person, and it wasn't kind for them to call you shitty. But, let's talk about ways to help manage your time when you're feeling down." Then the person turns around and tells their friend "MY THERAPIST said I'm NOT being shitty so YOU'RE WRONG for being mad and its OKAY for me to be late because I have DEPRESSION!!!!".

This is not how therapy is supposed to work or what happened but this is how literally almost everyone I have met irl and people online think therapy works lol

25 notes · View notes

m0tel6mxzzy · 1 year

Text

cassie’s hidden “resentment” of rue (lexi+)

was thinking about how cassie has this resentment for her dad (also an addict) and the empathy she had toward rue immediately switched off when rue was unreceptive to her attempt at intervention and instead used that as motivation to reveal her relationship with nate, knowing that would turn attention off of her.

i presume that empathy (a feeling i don’t feel is to be demonized and controlled when lacking, whereas compassion is a chosen act. using rue’s addiction to gaslight her was a choice, feeling upset w her due to past trauma and it’s current effect on lexi now extending to herself is not) stems from knowing rue very little.

she knew rue was lexi’s childhood friend, and because she did love lexi, likely did resent the part of rue that could been seen from lexi’s perspective—making their friendship transactional and solely about enabling her drug use via faking the drug tests. cassie’s claim that rue “treats her like shit” comes from the enabling, breaking off, and cycling toward lexi in order to feed her addiction.

cassie also likely resents lexi for allowing this enabling to keep happening. because she feels rue is a negative mirror into their father when relapsing and the emotional toll it takes when lexi is involved. in a way, during the drunk driving event, cassie was trying to preserve herself and stop lexi from worrying to evade the trauma they were currently in from their dad. she can’t exactly do the same when lexi is actively entangled with rue and relies on her for a semblance of friendship.

this doesn’t all all excuse cassie saying “why would you believe rue, she’s an addict” which just a very mean thing to say to discount someone who happens to be in a bad place (even if using non-relevant info to take out of u and distract from themselves, it was not at all done for maddy’s benefit but rather to aggravate her and center on cassie) but i understand now why she said that. i can also understand a small part of her resenting rue for her treatment of lexi.

it reminds me a lot of how jules felt towards rue (rue’s addiction reminding her of her mother’s) but described in a poorly constructive manner and at the wrong time. jules’ therapy session where she explains her anger with rue toward her codependency and essentially making jules her therapist, but not demonizing rue for her addiction. rather, examine how rue’s toxic actions while in relapse had affected her.

#i’m gonna be using this gif for any cassie howard posts btw!!!!#cassie howard #euphoria hbo

9 notes · View notes

menalez · 1 year

Note

Never mind the question if you don't wanna answer it but can i ask what ultimately helped you get better psychologically wise? Like a certain kind of therapy or a though process you adopted that made it easier? Elaborate as much as you like

sure, i’m quite open about this and if anyone wants to learn more about that pls feel free to ask me. :) so my therapy history is quite… extensive to say the least. in bahrain, i saw a male psychiatrist who i couldn’t even talk to myself (i was too scared) & so my mom told him my story like im a rape victim etc and he immediately prescribed me with cipralex & seroquel within the first session in one hour. despite hearing all about my trauma he simply diagnosed me with major depression or sth. anyways, i didn’t go to him again and after my mom found out i got stitches, she asked my uncle who’s a doctor and he connected us to a female psychiatrist in one of the main public hospitals in bahrain. she immediately diagnosed me with BPD & PTSD and referred me to the children’s psychiatric ward in bahrain (there’s only one in the country & it’s garbage. the criminally insane and just deeply mentally ill are both hospitalised there). the women who evaluated me also diagnosed me with the same stuff but were fixated on the BPD. at this point i must’ve been no older than 15. perhaps still 14 even but i think i was 15. one of the women who evaluated me became my therapist & i saw her for an hour per week for like a year. she would try to point things out to me and make me aware of my situation, she knew all about it and i started to open up to her more which was hard on me (before seeing her individually, my mom basically talked on my behalf to all the therapists bc i couldn’t say what happened to me out loud). i think she tried her best but our therapists are just not good at all honestly. she even would criticise my parents for how negligent they were etc. it was not any particular type of therapy besides like.. just regular talking therapy. i think her goal was to make me somewhat self-aware bc i completely lacked any self-awareness in terms of my feelings & situation etc.

after that my mom took us to the US bc there was no improvement in my situation. i was still 15 but nearing 16 at this point. at that point i was still on cipralex & seroquel, 50mg each i think. my mom basically took me to one of the big name hospitals near northern virginia and they had this very extensive evaluation where they’d ask family history etc. they said i show the symptoms of BPD but that they don’t like diagnosing kids with personality disorders so they diagnosed me with like 500 things instead. i thought it was kinda dumb but whatever. the therapy they decided i needed was CBT. i did. CBT for 6 months and they saw progress in me. the next therapy in line was some sort of trauma therapy, i’m not sure its exact name but i can describe it for u n maybe you’ll know. i never finished it tho ftr. it was basically split into three parts: life before the trauma, life after the trauma, and then the trauma itself. i only got through 2 weeks of it and barely started the life after the trauma section of the therapy. it was too much for me and i stopped going bc of it, my mom didn’t mind that bc they were ripping us off majorly (making us pay for a translator we didn’t need nor see) and she was running out of money at that point.

soon after i overdosed again & my mom found me & called the ambulance. i was taken to the emergency room, fed charcoal and they put this tube up my nose bc i threw up the charcoal etc it was a very traumatic experience honestly esp when they forcefully put some thingy up my urethra bc they needed to evaluate my pee. anyways i was taken from there to some hospital where i was placed on 42 hour suicide watch. the doctor there said i needed to be placed in a psych ward so i was put in a children’s inpatient ward more south of virginia. i was there like 2 weeks? and they basically had all kinds of therapy in there 24/7. i was considered high risk so i wasnt allowed the privacy a lot of my ward had. anyways we had a little school in there and we’d basically have art therapy, group therapy, therapy for addiction, individual therapy, psychiatric visits, PE therapy, etc. wildly enough, one night in this ward cost us less than the 1 hour sessions with the previous american hospital i got a lot of therapy from which showed just how badly they were ripping us off. they referred me to some kind of girls home where it’d be more constant therapy etc but i couldnt actually stay there bc it’s only for the citizens of virginia on paper (which i was not. we were illegal immigrants at this point). they referred me to a trauma centre and i basically went thru some sort of expressive therapy? i wasn’t given much more detail than that but we’d work with a sand box & id be given a prompt and told to try to show how i feel in the sand box using a bunch of figures to try to illustrate the situation. besides that we did expressive art therapy where i think i had to paint sth or draw sth but i don’t remember it well. we also did some sort of meditative therapy, focused on learning how to breathe bc i had a lot of panic attacks & anxiety-induced nausea etc so that was meant to help me in such cases. i remember we did sth called the i think 478. breathe in 4 seconds, hold 7 seconds, breathe out 8 seconds. do it at least 6 times and count in ur head bc it helps. it’s meant to trigger ur parasympathetic nervous system and calm down ur body. overall my time in america was a year & a half.

after that i had to go back to bahrain for a year and then i got into uni in the UK. i immediately asked to be put into therapy & was again considered high risk & high priority due to my history w suicidality & self harming behaviours. despite that, it took 3 years to even get me anywhere with that process. i was evaluated and the therapist thought i’d benefit most from DBT. i only managed to start DBT on my 4th year in the U.K., ie the end of my time there. i must’ve done like idk 4 months of DBT? maybe even less. and the program is meant to be a minimum of one year. if i recall correctly it was 3 hours per week, 2 hours group therapy & 1 hour individual therapy. it was really helpful and great but i had to leave bc my residence permit was expiring and it was a v sad moment.

i haven’t been able to get back into therapy since which has been hard but i’ve managed to control my self-harming behaviours esp after DBT. sorry this was rly long but i wasn’t sure what aspect would benefit u or not so i thought might as well go in depth

7 notes · View notes

sassygwaine · 2 years

Note

for the writer meme (lotsa good ones here and i couldn’t pick so feel free to skip some if u want): 1, 2, 4, 5, 7/8, 14!

i am skipping 7/8!! otherwise i will spend too much time in my documents and not actually taking the break i’m supposed to be taking :p

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

whump, hurt/comfort

i really like to be a soup with the misery and pain, and then also the balm after.

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

secondary character who everybody loves is actually the villain

i don’t typically dabble in much action (altwss has some big departures from my comfort zone) but i would looove to play with the dramatic irony and making that reveal so fucking satisfying.

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

oh man

there’s a couple ofmd ones:

- the fantasy au, ofc

- there’s a lucius/pete college au i’m working on that’s truly just dissolving into smut, so who knows if that’ll ever see the light of day. essentially stede is lucius’s advisor, lucius has to take a gen ed credit in math, ed is his math professor—he does not know they are married to each other, just that they’re old and gay and married and in love with their husband(s) and he’s jealous and lonely. he meets pete in this math class.

- a ‘they’re lesbians harold’ canon au, which, you guessed it, mostly smut!!! but it’s got the really fun play of totally avoiding the end of ep 9 and ep 10 entirely bc truly women do it different. (you can’t tell me a gay woman in 1717 who managed to get away from her forced marriage would ever consider that place safe harbor to return to, regardless of her feelings of guilt!!!) so in this version, they escape together as planned and return to the revenge (it’s all very handwavy, as is tradition). the trick now is that stede has no idea if the kiss was a heat of the moment thing or if ed actually likes her…spoiler: yeah baby she fuckin loves you surprise!!!!!!

- and oh god there’s a line in practical magic that had me spiraling at a canon reunion exchange of:

“So, why don’t you do what you do, and I’ll do what I do, and we’ll see where we end up.”

- it’s fully likely only the fantasy au will be the only one of these i post…so enjoy my brain worms but don’t get too excited 😫

5. Share one of your strengths.

capturing complex emotions in words. my therapist always tells me she’s going to steal my metaphors.

it’s just the only way i know how to express my emotions because the words that belong to them don’t feel like enough!!!

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

oh also follow up from previous

the conflation of ‘write what you know’ with ‘write only what you’re familiar with’

am i familiar with the fucking mob???? nah man i am playing house with my barbie dolls.

but i know pain, i know sorrow, i know hope and wanting so desperately to be worthy of the life that you had no choice but to receive, to not want to waste it and setting yourself impossible standards that you can never live up to and spiraling when you inevitably don’t meet them.

write things that are new to you. that’s why research exists.

#ask game #these are all very good questions i agree

2 notes · View notes

orphic-exe-archived · 3 months

Note

(SRRY THIS IS A LOT LONGER THAN I EXPECTED IT TO BE WHEN WRITING. TAKE UR TIME ) (Taking “ask as many questions as you like” and running with it /silly) same anon from before again again. idk kind of rant incoming bcuz i don’t much much of anywhere else to! im sort of questioning being plural but with a big question mark there bcuz it could honestly just be my gender changing too much and the identity crisis 💔 and i feel like for every symptom i have there’s at least 2 more i dont. my gender fluctuates enough already but sometimes specific genders or pronouns seem to come with certain name preferences and moods (to which I’ve always referred to as different “vibes” because that’s the only way i figured to describe things). but each of these sort of “vibes” have started to actually feel like different ppl and ive started to mess around with acknowledging them separately and it does feel nice. im also realizing that even though i don’t hear any distinct voices or anything in my mind, when i think to myself it’s more of actual back and forth conversation than is normal from what ive asked some friends? i never have amnesia at all (other than the usual forgetfulness i have which is very minor) but sometimes ill do things that don’t feel like. myself? like ill forget I drew/posted/wrote something for a bit but when I see it again i remember. and I know i did it, I was there, doing it, even though i feel like it wasn’t me. and not like im not in control of my body when I do it either cuz I very much remember doing it i just dont see why or what my thought process was. i have a whiteboard in my room where I’ve started making doodles of whatever feels like “myself” at any certain time and they’re all kind of similar but still feel like distinct. ppl. and again i physically remember drawing the other ones but it’s still weird. but most of this is just me I guess, because I don’t think i ever act particularly different online or irl around other ppl, it’s always just things i observe when im alone. i also know i have problems with symptoms of things I think I might have only appearing after I overthink it but maybeeeeeee it’s just im noticing it more? probably not. oh also before I forget I’ve also never actually dissociated or anything (at least to my understanding of an out of body experience type of thing. (Well actually I did once and remember it very clearly but that was several years ago when I hadn’t slept for much longer than usual)). its just normal zoning out for me i guess. anyways idk where i was rlly going with this and ik everyone’s experiences r different and obviously strangers on the internet can’t diagnose me with anything but I just wanted to say something ^-^ thank u for reading if u did lol

hey man! i can get that it’s stressful to figure all this out. if it helps, our experiences are pretty similar! our syscovery started with name preferences, feeling really different, and pronoun/gender identity preferences fluctuating. it sounds to me like you could very well be plural!

like you said, i can’t diagnose you with anything. however, there are some ways to try and log your headmates/alters/parts (whatever you’d prefer them called)! for example, the website simplyplural (we don’t use but many systems do) or the pluralkit bot on discord (if you use discord!) these softwares can do things like track your switches, log your headmates with names, pronouns, and descriptions, and more.

there’s no harm in giving those helpful resources a try, especially if you’re seriously considering this possibility. if you have a therapist/some form of professional help, it would be really good to bring these feelings up with them as well.

for now, keep doing what you’re already doing, possibly dabble in simplyplural or pluralkit (or another resource i didn’t list — any notes app could work as well)

i’m gonna start calling you “system questioning anon” in case you have any more questions to send me, as long as you don’t mind!

i also have to apologize— all three of these asks were answered by three different headmates (kumo, oliver, and myself (olly) in chronological order.)

#olly #system questioning anon #not maintagging this #this ask is a lot more personal #vixy plEASE STOP CURSING AT ME I DIDNT WRITE THE THING ABOUT YOU FUCKING UP OUR HEIGHT #THAT WAS OLIVER I SWEAR

0 notes

downspirals · 10 months

Note

“you're right, i don’t understand, yet. will you help me?” for forrest if u would like!!

@famegod

silence from forrest at first. people never understand him, that part he's used to, but he's not really used to... the wanting to understand. maybe from a therapist, or from some group that was required. his parents pretended. but arlo is looking at him, and it feels real right now. so he sniffles a little bit, and he nods his head a little.

"it's just.. it feels like my whole body is on f-fire. right now." tries to think of how he could describe this overwhelming feeling that is shaking his entire person. "everything. it's just. it's like i can feel it. all of it? uhm. th-that sounds. dumb. but i'm..." he sniffles, wipes at his eyes a little. "i don't know how to not feel it all."

#famegod #this is Soft #threads: forrest.

0 notes

rawrmeansilyindinosawr · 1 year

Text

notes from therapy todai

-loving intensely as a product of mirroring my moms personality disorder ? n luving w no boundaries bc i think love at its core is selflessness n acknowledging tht bpd love comes from a real place ?

-accepting that my mother has singlehandedly proven to me that one person can truly do anything and the endurance of love and the plight seems less n less strenuous and more endearing to model for others as an ultimate philosophy.

----

i love hard

i love intensely

i love passionately

romantically

n eternally.

my therapist said that the love that i give almost comes out in a form of power. and i have to sit with that and wonder what he really means by that. but i just know that....

if i give u my love, u will not forget it. or come out of it unscathed. some are excited to perceive it as dangerous but my love is not abusive or threatening. it burns slow but it burns bright. and i’m not saying ppl i love won’t be loved by others in a different n beautiful way but guess thts tru for everyone objectively obviously but. i struggled to find words to describe how i felt in this moment when i was verbalizing this to my therapist and all i could say was that i felt like an ocean.

cuz i can feel the rain before it starts to pour. and when words roll off tongues i travel into the alphabet itself...and when people tell me about their pain i feel it as my own, see the world that was torn down in their minds eye of a 'home.' i think in colors and i taste music when i hear it n i can see the way that heart beats in frequencies without plugging anyone to a ekg machine.....

n i am told i am the only person some of my friends need when they have options in a world of 7 billion options. and its flattering and unyoked n unburdened bc i don’t just give my love to just anyone...bc if i give it up it is with complete trust that the other will receive n acknowledge the responsibility that it takes to experience it…..

my love burns slow but it burns right. but it burns as an all consuming fire. it will completely tamper and fester inside u and there will be no need to pray for faith or belief or space for doubt if its real or imaginative or a movie scene bc luv was never a concept to begin with. n ive known from an early age i could never love anything without my entire existence and without my whole heart. my ex's have told me my love has felt profound .... to ways that it has also uprooted them... and forced them to look at themselves .... afterall, arent soulmates purposes' meant to shake u up from the inside.... n push u to blossom......

the love i have will desire to completely fill u… all the gaps you’ve ever felt…. all the holes….all the missing screws. i am the glue, i am the drill. i would like to be someones everything. all the answers, the mother, the father, the daughter, the sibling, the lover, the friend. n i dont know if thats logical. but thats what i desire.

------my body feels young but my mind feels old and i really want to explore the concept of empathy being a holy feeling n stop feeling guilty or narcissistic for knowing that the way that i love is special

#personal

0 notes

notjohnlegere · 2 years

Note

heyy could u write a piece where the reader has ocd and timothe helps her?

This ask is particularly close to my heart as someone who struggles daily with severe OCD. I used my own experiences and struggles as inspiration for this fic, although I did avoid writing on anything particularly heavy, as it could be a trigger for my own disorder (and we don’t want that!). This story is very lighthearted and easy to digest, I hope anyone like me who has struggled with this disorder can take something from this little story. You are never alone. ❤️

———————————————————————

Getting Better

———————————————————————

Getting Better

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

timmy’s pov. reader struggles with ocd and tim takes notes of how she experiences the world compared to him. nothing particularly heavy, and a cute happy ending.

*obligatory mobile formatting apology*

———————————————————————

She was sitting on the couch, her legs crossed beneath her, with her fingers in her mouth. She was watching one of her favorite shows, but my god she’s probably seen it a hundred times by now. I’ve probably seen it a hundred times by now. She told me something about it makes her more comfortable, which I don’t really get. How can watching something you’ve already seen so many times make you comfortable? I find it easier to immerse myself in new things rather than old ones. But, that’s just how my girl is, and it’s one of the many things I love about her. She’s herself, even if nobody else quite understands.

She always bit her nails. I sat at the dining room table, drinking a mug of coffee while I watched her. A terrible habit she’s had since she could remember. We’d tried everything together to get her to stop, but no matter what we did she would still chew her nails down to nubs. It hurt me to watch her, sometimes she would even bleed from it, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t stop, especially when she got nervous.

I watched her lips move. She always whispered to herself. Sometimes I’d catch a small glimpse of what she was saying—counting, spelling random words, even repeating things she had heard me say or heard on the tv. Her family, when I met them, described her to me as quirky. She always accepted that description, liking it much more than all the other terrible things she’d been called, but I didn’t agree. She’s not quirky, she’s herself. It always made me sick to my stomach to listen to the stories she would tell about people in her life trying to force her to be different. I can’t imagine anyone not accepting her as she is. She’s the most perfect human being I ever laid eyes on.

“Timmy?” Her voice snapped me from my thoughts. I looked over to her and offered her a small smile.

“What is it, mon amour?”

“Do you ever get tired of how I am?” She had asked me this question before. But I still couldn’t see her reasoning behind it. I could never get tired of her.

“No. Why would I?” I retorted.

“Because I’m weird.” She stressed. “I talk to myself, and I do all kinds of things I don’t even know I’m doing until you tell me. Like rocking back and forth all the time. That’s so annoying.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’m scared you’re just saying that. It bothers me. How could it not bother you?”

“That’s just how you are, mon amour.” I said. We had this conversation often. “I love you just how you are.”

“I love you too, Timmy.” She sighed. I could tell she wasn’t satisfied. “But I want to get help.”

“I will support you in whatever you want.”

*

“Okay, so here’s the list my new therapist gave me.” She said, holding a small, folded piece of paper out to me. Folded in her special folding style. Every paper she carried with her looked the same.

I took the paper and unfolded it carefully, she really hated how much I accidentally tore things, so I tried not to do that this time.

“And these are your symptoms?” I asked.

“Yeah,” She replied. “Do you recognize any of them?”

“Uh, let’s see.” I said. I read each item on the list and bit my tongue.

Excessive lock checking

Repeatedly checking on loved ones to make sure they’re safe

Counting, tapping, or repeating random words

Excessive washing and cleaning

Ordering and rearranging things

Accumulating needless objects

Quite frankly, I recognized every item on the list. She did all of those things, very regularly. But I didn’t want to scare her and tell her that. I can’t imagine how bad she would feel if she knew she did all of these things. She was unaware of so much of it.

“Maybe a couple things. You definitely count.” I replied nonchalantly.

“I do.” She said, a beautiful giggle on her lips. “I don’t know about some of that stuff, though. Like repeatedly checking locks? I’ve never done that.”

Yes you have, mon amour, more times than I can count.

“What’s important is that your therapist is prepared to help you in any situation.” I reassured her. I knew this was going to be a hard battle, but I believed in her more than I believed in myself.

“You’re right.” She agreed.

“Maybe I can come next time you go? So your therapist can give me pointers to help you out?” I suggested. She smiled at me, with that big beautiful crooked toothed smile. She was always finicky about dentists, so she never got braces. It made her more cute in my eyes.

“That’s so sweet, Timmy. I would love that.” She said. A kiss on my lips and she was gone, walking into the kitchen to make a drink.

“Where’s my big green cup?” She asked me. It was the only cup she used, her favorite one. I made sure to take extra special care of it for her.

“In the dishwasher, baby.”

“Merci.”

I smiled at her, taking note of how she moved. So much in her life was repetitive. So much about her was picky and finicky. This disorder controlled her every waking moment, which sometimes she didn’t even notice at all. This was her normal. Before she could even walk she was exhibiting signs, her parents told me. This was all she ever knew. And here she was, this strong, beautiful woman in front of me, getting prepared to overcome it just as she’s overcome every other hardship in her life.

I didn’t understand it one bit. I didn’t know why she panics and cries if I and her friends don’t her back soon enough. I didn’t get why she gets antsy if the stereo isn’t on an odd number, or if her chair has been moved a little to the right, or why she won’t leave the car until the song playing on the radio is in an “acceptable spot” to turn off the key. Hell, don’t even get me started on how I had to be positioned at the right spot during sex or she would get anxious.

But I guess I’m not meant to understand. I’m meant to love her and that’s exactly what I’ll always do.

“Here.” I was once again snapped from my thoughts. I looked up to see her offering me her special green cup.

“Oh? Is it broken?”

“No, Timmy. I want you to drink out of my cup. I’ll drink from the red one.” She said. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was such a simple thing, but absolutely unheard of with her. I gently took the cup from her, a giant smile on my face.

“I’m so proud of you!” I couldn’t contain my excitement as I pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek. “Look at you, my girl. Wow, you’re incredible.”

“Why, thank you.” She said with a giggle. Her pink lips met the red cup as she sipped from it, she was so confident and sure of herself. “It’s all uphill from here.”

———————————————————————

ao3 is johnlegere, find my fics there too. requests are open, send one in my ask box. hope you enjoyed :)!

301 notes · View notes

l4verq · 3 years

Text

crossed out | b.b

bucky barnes x reader

in which you’re one of the names on bucky’s list

warnings : angst, fluff?, mentions of choking

fic : one shot

a/n : u know i’m a sucker for therapy bucky lol

He should have skipped today’s session.

Cause he’s starting to regret coming when she brings it up.

“You gonna tell me about her?” Cecelia questions, casually flicking through a thick folder labelled James B.B.

But it was never casual.

Bucky knew she was observing his every move, his every tick. And he’d been pretty good at faking through every session until now.

“I thought you were helping me make amends.” He forges an unamused smile, which was second nature now.

“Yes and that’s why I asked you about her.” She looks up from the folder, the smallest smile tugging at her lips.

“It says here that you guys were complicated.” She continues, eyes skimming over a particular page.

Complicated was the last thing he’d use to describe it.

Cause it was the one thing that gave him some clarity, hope that he could be deserving of love again someday.

“We used to date. We broke up.” He gruffs, crossing his arms.

Maybe he should fake a mechanical failure in his arm, reschedule for another time.

“Do you still love her?”

He doesn’t answer but it’s written all over his face and Cecelia can read him like a book.

She turns over his list that she’d assigned him to make, eyes trailing down names until it reaches a hastily crossed out name at the end.

“Why don’t we pick this up next week? I hope you’ll be more comfortable to talk about it then.” She hands him back the small, black notebook.

He hesitantly takes it back, his feet already springing to get out of the room.

Was it just him or was the air running out in this tiny room.

“And, James?” She calls out.

He looks back, slightly winded.

“Remember, sometimes you need to just take a leap of faith, trust your heart.”

He nods solemnly, almost tripping over his legs trying to get to the door.

Hands fumbling over the handle, he’s greeted by a rush of cool air when he finally opens the goddamn door.

He stuffs the notebook in his pocket, taking big strides towards the exit.

It’s the same everyday.

Keep his head down, one sharp left, stop by the nearby cafe if he feels like it.

But today, he takes a right, taking out his flip phone he prefers to the touch screens these days.

Punching in the only number he knows, his stomach’s doing flips.

Don’t pick up, don’t pick up.

“So you do know how to call someone.” Sam picks up after a few rings.

He could almost hear the stupid smirk.

“How are you?” He cringes, the grip on his phone tightening.

It’s a small pause before Sam chuckles, “Y/N’s doing fine. In fact, she just got back from a mission in Prague yesterday.”

Of course, you’d still be going on missions, it was the only thing you knew.

“That’s not why I called.” He huffs, leaning against his car now.

It was an old, beat up Honda that he’d fixed up from the local junkyard.

“Really? Then enlighten me.”

It was Cecelia’s fault for bringing you up. If she hadn’t brought her up, he wouldn’t be here doing this.

“Where is she?” He closes his eyes, wanting the ground to just crack open and swallow him whole.

“Right where you left her.”

He mumbles a hasty goodbye cause he’s not sure he can trust himself to keep his composure any longer.

Getting into the car, he pulls out the notebook, going through the list.

He’d ticked off the list last month, even adding a few more names just to avoid the crossed out name at the end.

He jams the keys in, the car purring to life, before he can change his mind.

-

The door is taunting him.

He doesn’t know how but it is.

A quick exhale and he raises his hand to knock on it, half hoping you won’t open it.

But you do.

He always loved your eyes cause they held so much life to them.

Like for now, confusion morphing to recognition and rage in an instant.

You’re in bad shape, he can gather from the slight limp and bruises.

It feels like forever before you call his name in disbelief, what he’s longed to hear for so long.

He wishes you’d curse him out, hit him or tell him to go away cause that’s what he deserves.

But you don’t.

Instead, your pretty eyes brim with tears.

“Don’t.” He grits his teeth, unable to meet your eyes.

He always hated to see you cry.

“Then, why’d you leave?” Your voice breaks as months of bottled up heartache pour out.

He had to.

You were the only right thing he’d done in a long long time and he couldn’t mess it up.

“I needed to fix myself before I could trust myself around you.”

He grimaces as he remembers the life draining out of your face, while his hands were wrapped around your neck.

That very night he’d left, requested for therapy and could only hope it would work.

But it didn’t.

There was no fixing anything, he’d realised that waking up from nightmares far too many times.

“You could have picked up the phone.” Your voice barely above a whisper, stinging like a nasty burn.

He almost did, everytime.

But he hated himself too much to allow that.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all he can whisper, fighting the urge to take you in his arms.

“If you’d just let me in, realise that I do understand you.” You’re basically pleading at this point but you don’t care.

“I know you do. But you don’t have to. You deserve a better guy.” He says the same thing when he left like a broken radio.

“There is no better guy for me, Bucky. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?” You limp over closer to him.

You know he’s focused only on your limp, eyes filled with concern as they rake over your wounds.

“Does it hurt?”

The same thing he always used to ask after a mission while tending to your injuries.

“Yea, here.” You pat the left side of your chest, biting down a smile.

He has to fight back one too, but it’s kinda hard.

You meet his eyes, a little too long cause you’ve missed gazing into them every morning.

Maybe this is the leap of faith Cecelia keeps droning on about, he thinks as he leans in, “We should take a look at that, then.”

You sniffle, “I’m still mad at you.”

He laughs, which involuntarily makes you 2% less mad.

“I missed you.” He whispers, his lips inches away from yours.

You don’t have to say it back cause he knows.

He leans in closer, ghosting over your lips, waiting for your approval.

You close the distance, lips crashing into his almost in desperation.

Which you regret almost immediately cause you taste blood.

A split lip and kissing, not so pretty.

He pulls away and you mewl, pulling him back.

“You’re only making your lips worse.” He chuckles, hands slipping into yours.

Instead, he kisses your forehead, trailing all the way to your lips where he pecks them gently.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers again, head leaning on yours.

“I forgave you a long time ago. I was just waiting for you to come back.” You sob, tears springing out again.

He pulls you into his chest, steady hands you’ve craved for so long.

Gently rocking you back and forth, he strokes your hair, fleeting kisses to calm you down.

You’re struggling to keep your legs stable as your eyes grow heavy but you ignore the blatant aches in your body cause you don’t want to leave his embrace.

And he somehow always seems to notice.

“You need to rest.”

You shake your head, holding onto him even tighter.

He knows he won’t win against your stubborn ass so he lifts you up carefully, legs swinging over his arms while you snake your hands around his neck for support.

“Stay.” You mumble as he takes you in the room you two used to share.

And he does.

Boy, was Cecelia in for a ride next session.

-

a/n : im cringing as i post this🧎🏻‍♀️🔫🏃🏻‍♀️jsneyswjausowkaw but supeerr excited for tfatws this friday :)) also i named bucky’s therapist for convenience lol im pretty sure she’s not named in the first ep? i could be wrong tho

#bucky barnes #tfatws #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #mcu #marvel

873 notes · View notes

backandimbamon · 2 years

Note

hello! i saw you were taking bamon prompts, and I know you filled one of mine back in October, so please feel free to do others, but I like your work so I’m throwing my hat in the ring another time.

im forever bummed that we never really got to see a “dress” moment for Bonnie canonically. She never got to descend stairs with eyes all on her, she never got to steal breath away just by her appearance, whether at a dance or otherwise (if we don’t include her appearance in Damon’s kitchen). In fic, I love when she gets to have moments where she’s genuinely stunning, and Damon just looks at her in awe (because that is something we do see canonically!). It’s a little loose, but would you be able to write something that has her so captivating that Damon might even be at a loss for words? I just want a sweet princess moment for her basically.

I hope you are doing well and staying safe! Thank you 💕

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. everything u said was just like amazing and true. i’m doing so well, and i hope you’re safe! i’m so ready to bring this to life.. the idea popped up instantly for this, i was adamant in writing. hope u enjoy 🤎

Damon had the smallest notion that perhaps he had made a mistake.

Surrounded by tulle and layers upon layers of white and creme, expensive hangers, headless mannequins, and the quietly excited shopkeeper, Damon asked himself why he fought Caroline over being able to go dress shopping with Bonnie. There was no telling but he could possibly be sitting here for hours without a glass of bourbon or blood to keep him entertained.

The little lady who owned La Robe de Mariée was even shorter than Bonnie with light brown skin, mousy features and glasses that were perched lowly against her nose, she had a bad habit of tilting her head down and looking at Damon beyond her lenses, especially when she asked probing questions.

“You must be the gay best friend?”

Bonnie laughed at that, openly and cheekily, deciding that she did like this bridal shop if the dresses were anything close to being as remarkable as she was. Damon rolled his eyes. When he pointedly said, “no,” without even a snort or a chuckle the lady, Miss Belinda, stated,

“You do know it’s bad luck for the husband to see the dress.”

And Bonnie sobered up quickly, her fit of laughter untimely concluded. “Oh we’re not- he isn’t my husband!”

Miss Belinda rose an eyebrow. “Not technically.”

“Not at all.” Bonnie politely affirmed, tugging at the hem of her sleeve. “He’s my best friend.”

“Hmm.” The older woman didn’t say much after that, just pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose before giving them another once over. “Follow me.”

So there Damon was, on a white velvet couch, waiting for Bonnie to try on wedding gowns. Just him and him alone since he had the tendency to want his best friend all to himself, which seemed increasingly difficult to achieve as of late.

Actually he’s had to fight for Bonnie’s attention because Derek, the groom, seemed hellbent on kicking him out of the picture.

Either that or biting his head off.

Their relationship was almost cordial, but the thing about Derek was, he reminded him of a big burly wolf. And after getting to know him, he wondered what was so interesting or funny about him that elicited a signature starry-eyed smile Bonnie gave him when he wasn’t paying attention.

Whatever.

“Your dream wedding dress: what does it look like?” Miss Belinda asked, a notepad in hand as if she were a therapist.

Damon observed Bonnie when she gave a little pout. There was a pregnant pause as she took her time to think, glancing around her in curiosity like one of the dresses would hop out and tell her.

��You know, it’s crazy to say but I’m twenty-seven and I’ve never thought of what my perfect wedding dress might look like. I could describe Elena’s perfectly. I could tell you Caroline’s to a tee. But mine… I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“Okay well let’s get whoever these Elena and Caroline are out of your head and let’s fill it with- what’s your name?”

“Bonnie.”

“Let’s fill it with what Bonnie wants.”

“Right.”

“And I’m Damon, by the way.”

“Damon, the best friend. Got it.”

He realized then that her voice and disposition reminded him of Sheila.

.

To not know what she wanted, Bonnie was very selective. She looked at dresses without even trying them on and shook her head dismissively. They had already been there for forty-five minutes and she had yet to find a dress she actually wanted to see herself in so she realized a traditional style in the big and poufy sense was not her thing.

“I don’t want to drown in a dress.”

So they looked at silhouettes that were figure-hugging up top and flared out like a mermaid to the bottom. She did enjoy those. However, not enough to be ushered into the dressing room.

Thirty minutes later, Bonnie declared, “I want an unconventional wedding dress. One that’s kinda sensual but still classy. I want a dress that looks like it’s fresh off of the runway.”

Miss Belinda looked like something clicked. “I think I might have the perfect one for you.”

.

It was a vintage Thierry Mugler gown, definitely a couturier’s version of bridal with a price tag that made even Damon’s eyes widen.

“I’ve been waiting for the right pair of eyes to show this to. It’s not everyday that a girl decides she wants a gorgeous gown that is unlike anything she’s ever seen before. They come in and say they want a dress like Carrie Bradshaw’s or Kim Kardashian’s.” She blew a raspberry. “The girls are supposed to find their own dress…and fall in love with it.”

Miss Belinda held onto the hanger with great pride, extending what looked to be a flesh-colored set: a strapless bodysuit, and the mesh with little ruches in excess towards the bottom like flowers that decided to bloom right out of the dress.

“It’s beautiful, it really is.” Bonnie hesitated.

“You should try it on.”

She had no clue if Damon made the suggestion because he was bored of the ample time spent looking at dresses with only slight variations between them or because he genuinely wanted to see her in it. But she relented anyway.

“Fine.”

Miss Belinda looked through her lenses at them as if she were going to ask another question before opting on silence and showing her to a breathtaking fitting room.

.

“Oh my god!”

Bonnie said it from the fitting room, followed by a gasp and eventual silence.

“That’s normally a good sign.” Miss Belinda explained to Damon with a knowing smile.

“Oh my god.” She said it again with a finality as she opened the fitting room door with fumbling fingers and walked out on shaky limbs.

Breathlessly Miss Belinda asserted, “That’s the one. My job here is down, child.” Politely, she walked away to give them some space to admire how a dress like that could bring forth the magic that young lady already possessed.

“What do you think?”

Damon was robbed of any logical thoughts to piece together.

She was standing there in a corset that made her waist invisible and a gown that looked like a beautifully designed layer of second skin. As tiny as she was, her legs, which were completely revealed, looked extended from the high cut of the bodysuit. Her skin was like gold. The veil interwoven itself with a train that reached far beyond her for a few feet, gossamer enough that it trailed behind her when she walked and caught air in the slightest of movements.

Bonnie Bennett was ethereal.

Bonnie Bennett was unreal.

“I feel naked.” She filled in at Damon’s unusual silence. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” She giggled as if the awkwardness could banish with her little lilt.

Oh he was gaping on the inside, bad. He had to tighten his jaw to make sure it didn’t go slack, that’s how paralyzingly beautiful she was.

Was it bad of him that he didn’t want Bonnie to marry Derek? Not in that. Not looking so stunning. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to look for another gown. There was no way in hell he could lie like it wasn’t made for her.

“Bonnie-you look…”

He was grasping for the right words but they weren’t extravagant enough. They weren’t dynamic or remarkable or pertinent enough to express his admiration and actual butterflies-in-the-stomach kind of feeling she was giving him. His palms were sweating.

Damon could imagine himself at the wedding, those same butterflies turning into eels, his insides flipping a few times over when Bonnie and Derek kissed. When Bonnie Bennett became Bonnie Hale.

That Derek.

What a lucky bastard.

“Honestly, Bonnie, you look like you have wings.”

(the dress)

72 notes · View notes

memoriesofthecircularroom · 2 years

Note

aa how do u know if your alters are really just personality phases or maybe u have bpd instead.. bc im confused how is identity confusion and dissociation like in bpd vs did/osdd alters? also how do u know if u do have amnesia a or if it’s depression or stress/constant trauma making u forget things a little? can you still have osdd/did eveb if u don’t think abt who u are sometimes like u don’t know who is fronting or haven’t switches in a while? can u have osdd/did and not be in constant dissociation like can u have breaks from it? idk how do u know they are really alters and not just normal fluidity of the personality .. like considering u also have trauma, dissociation, and possible amnesia on top of it.. but STILL.. like yes these alters(??) seem like separate people and have different aesthetics and are very different and u feel like sometimes u go between them and constantly have identity/gender/sexuality/name crisis and switch names all the time… but it’s possible .. not to be alters .. and I’m confused on what’s normal stuff for singlets and people wirh bpd and aaaa idk this is messy I’m sorry I’m just don’t want to inaccuracy describe myself as a system .. I’ve researched for years but I’m still worried it’s not right and I’m trying to hear what other people say on how to know if they’re really alters .. (to be very clear when I said “u” I mean me mnsnxns) I know u can’t dx me but like could u explain or advise some things?

Hey buddy. Sorry it took me a bit - depression hell!

Sounds like you’re struggling too. Thing is, I know basically jack shit about BPD. But that doesn’t even sound like what you’re actually struggling with.

I’m a DID system. My therapist agrees. I live my daily life as if I am 11 alters in one body. And I’ve made 100% peace with the fact that, if tomorrow, it was scientifically proven that I didn’t have DID… that doesn’t change what I’m going through. That doesn’t change anything but what I’ll call it, and how I’ll ask for help. And no stranger on the internet would ever be able to determine what that’ll look like for me.

It sounds like what you’re looking for here is less advice, and more validation. And that’s fine and all - I mean, hell, half my blog rn is just System Quirks, showing off our valid selves. But… again. A stranger online giving you validation isn’t going to last. Only YOU can put your own doubts to rest.

Idk if I have amnesia, hardcore depressive amnesia (still amnesia btw), or some fucky brain chemistry. Idk who’s fronting sometimes - and sometimes I know who I am with too much clarity. Sometimes I’m alone, and sometimes I’m not. It sounds like the best answer is alters - but what if? What if what if what if-

Just stop! 💜 It’s okay to call it alters! “But what if it’s BPD-“ and what if a meteor strikes tomorrow? What ifs will just make you spiral. You need to find an answer and find faith in that.

“But what if I’m wrong?”

Then you’re human. It’s okay to be wrong. It’s okay to make those mistakes.

“But what if it sets me back?”

That’s okay too. Life isn’t a race. The goalposts are only your own. You can move them at any time, or switch games entirely.

It’ll be okay, Anon. I’d suggest seeking therapy if you can to have a more researched individual discuss BPD VS DID with you.

#did #dissociative identity disorder #plural #osdd #other specified dissociative disorder #traumagenic #actually traumagenic #mod curtis #endogenic neutral #endo safe #BPD #asks #anonymous #all of this is not meant to sound mean btw #i just struggled so much with self doubt at first #And THAT is what truly set me behind #Not actually being wrong

27 notes · View notes