Me semi enjoying my day: :)

The random gut wrenching, nausea inducing, head swirling memory I swore to lock away forever popping into my head

:(

the overlooked

Don’t pretend this is such a surprise You know precisely where I am I’ve never hidden that But I’m laying low exactly where You know where to find me Cause I’m done pounding the pavement To get your attention Or make this connection Stay permanent

I’m moving graceful through my space And waiting out all their next great escapes Cause I am in the hall, I am in the hall But I am not at the beck and call When there’s never been a call

I move like a ghost through my days I was invisible in that house Good but for what we’ll never know now I twirl, I twirl, spinning my head around In all these questions that come of love Where are they now When all the walls are down And I am laying low Beneath the rubble?

You know where to find me So don’t act like this is such a surprise I’m tired and I’m bone weary And my head can’t form the will tonight Such is the price of life And why we are here in this exact moment in time When any turn could have taken us a different way Baby, maybe, I’m just one day away From taking a different turn

Find me precisely Where you’ve always known I am Cause this time I can’t go kicking the doors down Just to remind us all I’m still alive But you know it, So won’t you Take advantage of it?

—blueprint poetry

So frustrating and confusing to know your parents were horribly abused before they grew up to neglect/abuse you.....

Hopefully last post mentioning stamp collecting for now: I often think about how my mother used to call holding grudges “collecting stamps”. Any time I brought up any number of horrible things I experienced I was “collecting stamps”. Any time I complained about the way people treated me I was “collecting stamps”. I’m so happy that now that I actually collect stamps that term has a really beautiful meaning to me now. It no longer equates to essentially “you’re overreacting” to me. It means something more like “collecting beautiful things that bring me joy and hold so many memories”. It feels healing.

about me

hi. this is my venting/spiraling/idk blog. DID system, autistic, possible bpd. went through extreme neglect and other childhood traumas. currently unintentionally remembering repressed memories as of february. need a place to vent. no trigger warnings, sorry, this is your trigger warning.

IF A POST HAS MY NAME WATERMARKED ON IT IT IS MY PICTURE. DO NOT REPOST. SOME PICS ARE FROM MY ACTUAL LIFE/CHILDHOOD AND I DESERVE A PLACE TO VENT EDIT THEM.

if someone is regularly cruel to you, that's not okay at all. it doesn't matter if they do good things sometimes. they're hurting you, repeatedly. they probably aren't even giving you genuine apologies, right? at best, they just keep trying to justify their actions and wrap it up in pretty language and confident tone, don't they? does that sound like love and care to you? does that sound like anything other than self preservation and an attempt to keep control over you, so they can keep abusing/neglecting you without consequence?

that's not love. that's never been love. you deserve infinitely better, and i hope someday the both of us fully understand what it means to be safe and loved, as a mundane part of life. because that's how it should be. this is not all there is.

I am once again thinking about the term "suicide survivors". How it's a term that rightfully belongs to those that lived through a suicide attempt, that literally survived suicide. How instead it means those that lived through someone else's death. How it neans "surviving" in only the archaic use 'survived by" used in obituaries. How suicide "survivors" lived through something that was never going to kill them, that was never even a threat to their life.

How we are only ever a footnote in the stories of others. We're a tragedy that happens to people, a cautionary tale if we die and inspiration porn if we live. How, forever long we do live, we were suicidal, past tense, because it makes people too uncomfortable too acknowledge that suicidality is chronic (whether pathological or environmental).

How everyone wants to do suicide prevention but no one wants to acknowledge the people at the center of it. How it's never actually about our needs - or even about our safety, really. It doesn't matter what trauma or pain we must endure - they'll have us live if it kills us. Never mind social programs to give us housing, food, security, to make us want to live - it's our responsibility to find someone to tell us it's all in our heads and we need meds to fix us, because it's CRAZY to want to die. Make sure the hotlines can all call the cops if we don't comply.

Don't we know how selfish it is to want to not be in pain and be so desperate that we're willing to die for it? Don't we know how selfish it is to not have any access to the things we need to survive? Don't we know that suicidal depression is really our duty to get over, because obviously if we don't take meds that don't work or that make us sick, if we don't submit to medical gaslighting, if we don't "try" to recover, it's not like it's an illness or a disability! It's selfishness, a character flaw.

Don't we know that we're the selfish ones, when they make our struggling, our illness, our deaths, about us and not them?

It's sanism at its most basic. We're not reliable narrators of our own experiences. We're not the main characters of even our own stories. We're there to be a single pretty tear rolling down the cheek of our loved ones. We're tragedy-as-an-object, as an object lesson. "Make sure you pick yourself up by your bootstraps seek help so you don't become an inconvenience for us hurt your loved ones." Even STILL the focus is not on the harm done to yourself, except as a moral failure in that it harms the healthy people around you.

Quite frankly, I'm sick of it. I don't ever want someone to call themselves a "suicide survivor" again who means it not as "I've survived BEING suicidal" but as "I lived through someone else being in so much pain that they took their own life over it". Not when there still exist people that have survived attempts or are actively suicidal. This is our narrative, not one for you to center yourselves in.

I will not go so far as to say your grief is selfish. That would be cruel. But your grief IS about someone else. This is still THEIR story.

It is likewise the same pain, the same trauma, and the same ableism and sanism we face over it, for those of us who have actually survived it, more than it is that of those who have never stood on that edge. It is the same decentering of our own stories when we go through the exact same thing.

It is the same surviving another day of being suicidal, another attempt, and hearing people who have either never been suicidal or simply are not talking about their own survivorship of suicidality, have the audacity to call themselves survivors of something that they never survived. To take something that KILLED someone they love and claim to be survivors of it.

Cancer survivors had cancer. Automobile collision survivors were in collisions. Survivors of critical illnesses or disabling/severe injuries lived through those illnesses or injuries affecting THEIR lives. But suddenly when a deadly chronic illness kills someone, in this one case, the survivors are the ones who watched someone die of it?

Nah. This isn't a mass threat like a shooting or a pandemic, where your life was ever in danger. You're not the survivor. Your grief is valid, and there absolutely needs to be times and places where being a GRIEF survivor is centered, where your healing and well-being is focused on.

But let those of us who we so sick we nearly died for it, or DID die from it, be the center of THAT story.

Dead men tell no tales, so at least have the grace to let the echoes of our voices remain, unspoken over. And for gods' sakes, remember that there are people that DID make it through alive, that we're still talking, that our voices are most important in a conversation about OUR potentially deadly illnesses.

We're still here telling our own tales.

i always see positivity posts about survivors that were forced to grow up early, and that’s great, but what about those of us who weren’t allowed to grow up at all? those of us who were sheltered, trapped, controlled? kept in a child-like state for far too long? treated as children by parents and by what few peers we had because we “knew nothing”?

those of us who finally stepped out into the real world and knew nothing? who learned to lie and manipulate for safety, but never even learned what a family should look like? never knew what the world was really like?

what about those of us who left the nest late? who still felt twelve at twenty, going away to college for the first ever time? who have been winging it and googling things ever since? who are still afraid to ask peers for the fear of being ridiculed or treated like children? what about those of us who are still called immature to this day?

we’re here too. it isn’t our fault. we’re not less than for the way we were abused and manipulated. we are as old as we are, and we’re allowed to feel as old as we feel

tw// vent mentions of abuse, addiction

i usually am always reminded of my old situation throughout the day somehow. the way someone talks to me, the way a room feels, the smell of smoke just really anything gets me thinking about my old home we went past one of my old houses yesterday, the one that I used to live in with my mom and a couple of her boyfriends. i asked to go because I wanted to see the house and we were in the area. i immediately regretted it. i got hit with terrible memories and I started having flashbacks in the car, and even though I knew I was safe I was so scared that my parents were gonna show up out of no where. just looking at the exterior of the house brought me so much pain it hurts remembering, but it hurts not having my biological parents. i miss them even though it was hell living with them. i feel sorry for them, but I resent them. the amount of times they blamed their actions on not being sober was terrible. you shouldn't be telling your kids anything like that, you shouldn't be hurting your kids just because you arent in the right mind, you shouldn't take your anger out on your kids that's targeted at yourself. DONT HAVE KIDS IF YOU ARENT GOING TO TAKE CARE OF THEM!!!!!! if they really wanted to get better like they continuously told us, they would have gone to rehab. my mother went once, and the minute she got back home she got back into her old habits. my dad never cared to go. nothing excuses the pain that they caused me and my siblings, nothing excuses the years of feeling alienated from the other kids. nothing excuses the neglect and lack of love that was shown. nothing excuses the years in foster care where I felt so unloved. nothing excuses the fact that they were abusing us, but I cant help but wish to see them sometimes. what would they say to me? would they feel sorry? would they cry? would they apologize? are they still doing drugs? sometimes I wish I never left. maybe my mother would have grown to love us. maybe I wouldnt be stuck in this house. maybe I wouldnt be so mentally fucked. maybe I would have grown to stand up for myself. maybe everything would have stopped. maybe I would have run away by now. i should be grateful I'm away from my parents. maybe I'm being selfish. I'm a lot to put up with and I know that. but constantly being reminded of my old situation makes me feel like nothings really changed. the anxiety and longing that I always feel is weighing me down so much, and my guardians don't make much of an effort to help. "you're going to end up like your mother" "you're acting like your mom" "all these medications are leading you down the wrong path" "you're going to get addicted. it runs in the family" please stop saying that please dont say that I know addiction runs in our family and it scares me!!! i want to get better i want to take my medication but I'm scared I'm going to get addicted to stronger things! I've already had a problem with things like this, and I'm not even that old everything is so wrong all of the time i dont know what to do I'm nothing like my mom and ill never be like her ill never fucking be like her ill never turn into anything like that I'm so scared

beginning my descent into my Bode Surrendered On Tanalorr au because i need healing

worst decision aveyard has ever made ever was make maven a man because can you even CONCEIVE how legit fem!maven would be can you even conceive it can you even conceptualise toxic yuri mareven omg omg you guys would never hear from me again

You have to talk to me 24/7 or I'll think you're abandoning me.

reminder that you were a child. its not your fault, even if it seems like it might be.

massive trigger warning for abuse/suicide on this one, but for anyone who thinks psych wards are about protecting people:

1. my friend was trying to choke herself. i begged the staff to help her, and they said she was only looking for attention. minutes later, they call a code, wrangled her to the ground, and forcibly sedated her.

2. a girl was upset because she couldnt call her dad past a certain time. she started screaming, and crying, messing up the front desk. 8 security guards took her down. they broke her arm and sprained her wrist.

3. i came back to my unit in shambles because the staff on hand did nothing to stop a fight. i had to remedy the situation myself. things like this happened often.

4. i was having a trauma meltdown during "quiet time." the youngest patient tried to comfort me, and staff told her to stop and go back to her room because i was "a big girl who can handle herself." i was an out trans guy. the staff member didnt speak to me at all.

5. they separate roommates if they become friends. but they put me and my friend together for the sole purpose of putting us on constant observation together. we had zero privacy, even in the bathroom (which they took the door off of). at state, if you're on C.O, they take away your clothes, possessions, and "privileges."

6. im a CSA survivor. i was forced to regularly occupy the same space as a rapist, no matter how many flashbacks it caused me. they even roomed him next to me.

7. i am intersex. at state, doctors forced me onto an anti-androgen. i refused at first; they labeled me noncompliant, extended my stay, and took away my "privileges" (ex: snacks, going outside, doing fun activities, socializing).

8. they left my friend in a padded room strapped to a table for hours. they then let her off the table and left her in the padded room overnight. she had to wait hours in the morning to be let out.

9. at state, kids have to choose between being forcibly injected with a sedative, or being locked in a padded room if deemed "necessary." your parents have to sign away most of their parental rights, and if they want to sign you out, they need to go to court. for months. the state owns you.

we were all children. none of what i said is a "bad apples" situation. things like this happened every. single. day. it happened at multiple hospitals. these places are made to control mentally ill and other marginalized people. they exist to abuse us into conformity, take away our autonomy, and keep us away from polite society. psych wards should not exist.