Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying event — either experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares, and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event.

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Li'2 aka @2shottzz #PostTraumatic OUT NOW‼ via @pluggdnent 🔌 filmed by @topflyght_official 🛩 https://www.instagram.com/p/CoAaRgSOvfn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

New sibling diagnosis for post-traumatic stress disorder -- ScienceDaily

New sibling diagnosis for post-traumatic stress disorder — ScienceDaily

The World Health Organization (WHO) recently listed a new sibling diagnosis for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), termed complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD). An international team with the involvement of the University of Zurich has now summarized the symptoms of the long-awaited new diagnosis and issued guidelines for clinical assessment and treatment. One of the most widely…

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Idk if anyone's posted this before but if you want a good primer on ACEs (adverse childhood experiences) please check out this online course. It's free & only 50 minutes, plus you get a certificate once you're done. I really recommend it for everyone. Especially because not many people understand dissociation and childhood trauma even though the basic information is right here.

So I wrote this for @sleepdeprivedsimp234

Mass was working on his computer when Texas found him in the middle of the night. It wasn’t strange for him to be up this late, but it was for Texas. It was that much that got a look from Mass.

“You okay?” Mass asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Texas nodded. “Just couldn't sleep is all,” he said.

He couldn't help but take another look at Mass, however. Usually, he wouldn't think anything of the fact that he was up this late, but there was something in his voice that sounded… off. Was there something wrong?

That's when Texas noticed how tense Mass’s shoulders were, how his hands seemed to shake slightly as he worked at his computer.

“Are you okay?” Texas asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I'm fine. Just couldn't sleep,” Mass said with a shrug. Texas was about to protest when Mass continued. “I'm fine Texas! I promise you I'm fine.”

Texas sighed and nodded. He couldn't say he was exactly surprised that Mass had refused to say if something was up, especially if something was. It wouldn't have been the first time.

“Alright. I'm gonna be here anyway, so-”

“The problem’s that I'm fine, isn't it? That they didn't get to live and I did?” Mass said, his voice shaking slightly. “They didn't get out of that war, but I did. They should’ve been able to get home, and it's my fault.”

Texas shook his head. “It's not your fault, Mass,” he whispered, taking the seat next to him at the table. He carefully placed a hand on Mass’s shoulder, trying to be as reassuring as he could be. “I'm sure they wouldn't blame you.”

Mass looked away from Texas. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't convince himself it wasn't his fault. “They got hurt because of me. If I hadn't started that war-” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “Why won't it stop?”

Texas squeezed Mass’s shoulder for a moment, sighing. Mass hadn't been this honest with him in a long time, and he just wanted to make sure he'd be okay.

“Why won't what stop?” Texas asked, his voice gentle.

“The guilt. Why won't it stop?” Mass's voice sounded distraught as he wiped at his face.

Texas shook his head. "I don't know, Mass. I don't know if it'll ever just stop." Carefully, he pulled Mass into a hug, leaning his head on top of Mass’s. "It sucks. I'm so sorry you have to deal with this."

Mass's eyes shut tightly as his arms wrapped around Texas. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to leave anytime soon.

Texas was just glad that Mass didn't try to leave then. He knew he'd try to make sure that things ended up okay.

From Splintered Reflections: Images of the Body in Trauma (full text here) by Jean Goodwin and Reina Attias

Trauma talk: wounds are not the same. Even from the same sources, your wounds won't always be the same, act the same, or heal the same. The things that happen to you will echo in your nervous system and impact different aspects at different levels, like a spray of bullets in different directions. Some wounds are shallow, some are deep. It's important to know how to take care of each one.

Some things are kind of like bruises: they're tender and sore to the touch, but you can touch them, and they'll clear up after a little bit. Some wounds are more like scabs: you can touch it and it feels fine, but then if you touch it too much, it'll break open, and you'll bleed.

And some wounds are like broken bones. They will take a long time to heal, and immense support to make sure it cannot grow worse. Even after it heals and the cast comes off, it will be tender and you will feel more fragile with it. Healed does not mean back to the way that it was before.

You will be different, but you will not be broken anymore.

Tender, but not broken.

Trauma leaves marks. But they will heal. They may not heal the same way, or take the same time to, or be anything like they were before. But they will heal. You will heal. Breathe.

Anyone who experiences chronic pain(possibly posttraumatic arthritis) in the knee have any suggestions for bad flare ups? My mom and I are starting to suspect I have arthritis after sustaining a kneecap injury in 2019. Somedays are worse than others and today is definitely one of them. I'm setting up an appointment with my GP to look into further testing so I can get an accurate diagnosis and treatment options. In the meantime, does anyone have any suggestions for managing the flare up? Fucking rain😫

When I'm in the mood to read fic and my teeny tiny fandoms have run dry I search by tags on AO3 and read random stuff from media properties I have never clapped eyes on in my life. Lately a lot of BG3 has been coming up...........I hope at the end of this game a kindly wizard invents a spell called “12 sessions of EMDR and a medical marijuana card” for that gay elf because my man is going through every damn thing under the sun including some shit I didn't even think was possible

i am scared

January 30, 2024 I feel like I am losing my mind. Thoughts of harm to myself are flying through my head. I feel like I am pushing everyone away as they try to help me. I feel so broken. I survived so long without getting to this point, why now? What if I don’t come back? What if everyone gets tired of me being like this? Will they all leave? My meds were working really well, what is…

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not to expose myself for doomscrolling but it drives me up the wall when people say like "little alters ARE children" bc like. no theyre not, unless the person is. because alters are not actually separate fucking people??????

i get the impulse to speak about parts as if theyre legitimately entirely separate human beings for people who are dealing with the disorder bc that's genuinely how it feels. but when people without a dissociative disorder talk like having DID or OSDD makes you literally multiple people and that's clinical fact, it's so fucking embarrassing. like, secondhand. maybe i'm being nitpicky but it drives me insane.

Mickey's Descent Into Madness

Mickey’s Descent Into Madness What Is It? The YouTube video Mickey’s Descent Into Madness by the YouTube channel Ethereal Snake: Here is the description for this video: Support the channel and get access to the soundtrack Patreon : https://www.patreon.com/Ethereal_Snake Merch : https://www.redbubble.com/people/Ethe… PayPal.me : https://paypal.me/tombourgeois87 Twitter :…

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Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) - The American Institute of Stress

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) – The American Institute of Stress

Definition Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) can develop after exposure to a potentially traumatic event that is beyond a typical stressor. Events that may lead to PTSD include, but are not limited to, violent personal assaults, natural or human-caused disasters, accidents, combat, and other forms of violence. Exposure to events like these is common. About one-half of all U.S. adults will…

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- and shadows will fall behind you

Simarkus Week Day 2

Simon reflects on his life as he grapples with overwhelming thoughts of suicide.

Read on Ao3 here, or under the cut! (Please double-check the tags on this one and stay safe. <3 )

Simon’s gaze refocused as his legs, clad in a pair of comfortable jeans, dangling over the edge of the rooftop, in the open air over a nine-story drop. Yet another chill breeze blew, the rushing air traveling straight through him, as if his body were sliced through with innumerable holes—a physical manifestation of his mental state. It had been overcast all day long, making it a cold and unpleasant day all around. He shivered for several seconds and then fell still again. The building overlooked the battlefield on which he had shutdown—albeit temporarily. The area had long since reverted to a normal park, and humans and androids alike drove past and walked through it as though nothing of significance had taken place there. And, in certain ways, there hadn’t. Across the nation, despite the android victory, the peace talks, and the painstaking negotiations, androids continued to be oppressed—thousands of androids were destitute, humans hurt and murdered androids with near-total immunity, and there were horrific rumors circulating that many states maintained and continued to use the emergency android recycling centers that had been constructed during their revolution. While the other Jericho leaders remained invigorated and motivated to keep doing the hard work, Simon was incapable of seeing the situation in the same light. From his vantage point, little had changed, and he was inarguably worse off than he had been before Markus came on the scene and flipped the entire table, scattering everything that lay atop it. Sure, he had a bedroom in Carl’s basement that was warm and dry, but his mental health had never been worse. Simon’s eyes slid closed, and he bowed his head, lifting a hand to trace the outline of his thirium pump regulator with his finger. The texture of his thin jacket against his fingertip, the sole focus of his attention, sent another round of shivers through him, a subconscious aversive stimulus to deter messing with the critical biocomponent when not absolutely necessary. It set his stomach to churning, but he was ready. He’d given himself months to readjust, to figure things out, to improve even an iota, but he’d only deteriorated further. He drew in and then released a slow, measured breath and whispered, “I’m sorry, Markus.”

Simon slipped his hand beneath his shirt, and before he could convince himself otherwise, he pried his thirium pump regulator from his chest. He felt a rush of thirium drain down his stomach, making his skin crawl, and a deluge of warnings appeared in his vision. Stark red, neon yellow, blinding white, they were nearly more terror-inducing than the prospect of his imminent death, which was nearing by the second, according to the two-minute countdown. The anxious jitters eased into fatigued tremors as the energy was near-instantaneously sapped from his body, and his eyelids fluttered as his sight glitched and flickered, the world taking on a shade of deep blood red. His hearing became muffled and distant, and his head sagged with exhaustion. Yet, he pulled the thirium pump regulator out from under his shirt to study it. The biocomponent was small, about the length of his palm, and it had a stunning, electric blue core that emanated its own light. He raised it closer to his eyes, curious about the mysterious technology that sustained all android lives, but his death-addled thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice calling out to him. “Simon, wait!” Simon raised his head enough to look over his shoulder, where he found Connor stepping onto the roof of the building from the door to the stairwell. His hands were raised, as if to show Simon he meant him no harm, though he clearly did. To keep him alive, at this point, would be to cause him harm. “Let’s talk this through,” Connor called, taking a couple of steps toward his dying friend. Simon’s eyes widened, and he raised his arm—weak though it was—tremulous fingers gripped tightly about the thirium pump regulator, as if he were about to throw it off the roof and all five stories down to the tarmac. When he spoke, his voice was strained, requiring an astonishing amount of energy.

“Get away from me.”

Connor backed up, hands still upheld, and said, “All right, all right. You and I don’t have to talk, but Markus is here, too. Would you speak with him?" Simon dropped his hand to his lap, no longer strong enough to hold his arm up, and nodded. As frightened and ashamed as he was, he would still like the opportunity to say goodbye, to explain his behavior, to confess his feelings. Seeing Markus’ eyebrows pinched with concern for him sent another shot of shame straight to Simon’s heart, and as much as he wanted to take in Markus’ everything for one final time, he lowered his gaze to his lap as his secret crush hurried over to him at a rapid jog and sat down next to him. “Simon,” Markus said, his voice soft, yet with an undertone of strain, “please. Talk to me.” Simon considered for a moment, examining the luminescent biocomponent he cradled in his lap, before he drew a difficult breath and said, “I can’t get it out of my head.” He raised his trembling fingers and pressed them hard to his forehead, his eyes flicking closed. “Every time I close my eyes, I see myself down there—” He looked up to Markus again and gestured in the general direction of the battlefield before letting his hand fall back to his lap. “—staring up at all the snowflakes, waiting for my heart to stop, or huddled in that cramped AC unit, damaged and alone and so scared.” Markus placed a hand on his shoulder, his stunning eyes holding Simon’s gaze without the faintest hint of wavering, and though it warmed the spot and made Simon’s stomach flutter with adolescent giddiness, it provided him little comfort. “I can’t stay in stasis for longer than an hour because I’m woken by nightmares of going through it again and again, with worsening injuries as the night wears on. I can’t focus long enough to be of any help to you or our people. I can’t remember the last time I felt even a flicker of happiness. I have no purpose, no peace, and—” Simon looked away, his eyes losing focus. “—and no one to keep me here.”

“No one? What about Jericho?” Markus’ grip on Simon’s shoulder tightened. “We’re your friends, your family.” Simon hesitated, the force it required to speak growing with each second that passed. “Josh and North think I’m weak-willed and cowardly. Connor only befriended me so I wouldn’t kill myself.” “And me?” Markus said. “Do I not matter?” Markus mattered more to Simon than anything else in the entirety of the universe, and thinking on it, he couldn’t stop the faint smile that twitched at the corners of his lips. “Simon?” Simon finally turned back to look at Markus, meeting those mismatching eyes he adored so much, eyes that made him feel seen and safe, eyes that always stole his breath away. But not this time. Simon drew a deep, soothing lungful of air, and said, “I love you, Markus.”

Markus’ steady gaze flicked back-and-forth between Simon’s eyes for several moments, and then he cupped Simon’s cheek in his hand as he leaned in and kissed him. Simon froze in shock, but it took him only a few stunned seconds to gather his wits and grab the front of Markus’ jacket with both hands, pulling him in for a longer, deeper kiss. In so doing, he dropped his thirium pump regulator on the metal slats between their legs, having forgotten about it almost completely in his surprise and passion. Markus, however, had not forgotten. He snatched up the biocomponent, lifted Simon’s shirt, and slotted it firmly back into place before once more taking Simon’s face in his hands, their lips having never parted. The sensations that accompanied Markus’ caresses were nearly overwhelming for Simon—the lush silkiness of their lips gliding against and between one another, the secure steadiness of Markus’ hands cradling his jaw, the soothing familiarity of his scent—and gradually began to make him feel lightheaded. Simon eventually eased away from him, missing the feelings of comfort, safety, and adoration almost instantaneously. He opened his eyes to find Markus smiling at him. “I love you, too,” Markus said. “You’re my…my…” He paused, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the correct word. After a dour, downcast day, the sun finally broke through the thick cloud cover, bathing the pair of them in warm, revitalizing light. Markus laughed and said, “My sunshine, Simon. You’re my sunshine.”

"Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you." Walt Whitman

Why TF do people act like Korra's trauma arc comes out of nowhere???? Like, season one is entirely about her learning how to cope with and even process fear. She is not used to being afraid and doesn't know how to handle it. She has recurring memories and nightmares about Amon within the first few episodes of the show and people wanna act like her post traumatic stress was bad writing or random??? Like umm. To ignore that part of her character would actually make less sense.

In fact I think the main reason trauma wasn't heavily addressed with Aang after he woke up in the iceberg is because 1. He was always characteristically in touch with his emotions for the most part, as much as a 12 y/o can be (and his friends mention his unusual maturity/wisdom more than once); 2. He had seen the world and experienced much more than Korra ever had bc she was essentially locked up in the South Pole, giving him a wider emotional bandwidth than Korra (imo) and 3. It was clearly directed toward an audience of younger children whereas TLOK seems to be directed toward older children/teens, meaning it's more appropriate to address some darker themes in greater depth than they could in ATLA

ALSO... The obstacles that Aang faces are mostly the same through the show too, where he has to find someone to teach him, he's being chased by the royal family, and ultimately he has to fight the Fire Lord. This isn't to say he's not afraid, but the villains in TLOK, particularly in season 3, were much more intense than the ones in ATLA. Aang never had someone even threaten to take his bending away, let alone display to him that they could do it whenever they wanted, when it would suit them best. He wasn't betrayed by a trusted family member like in season 2 of TLOK (of course due to the nature of his situation this wasn't even really possible but the point stands). He wasn't chased by literal supervillains who had been locked away for years. It's the elements of fear and manipulation that makes Korra's story more intense to me. These were grown ass adults trying to terrorize, kidnap, and/or kill a 17 y/o. To me, in ATLA it was children beating each other up in a rather straightforward way, until the very end of the show.

All of this is to say that Korra faced a barrage of terrifying opponents and situations, back to back, after of lifetime of being sheltered that understandably left her traumatized. I think people just get so used to seeing shows/movies/video games where the main character doesn't even blink about traumatizing stuff that they think it's cheap writing when the writers actually decide to address that the protagonist has in fact not suffered happily lol.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Welcome To The Table - Ben Brainard (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: New Jersey (Welcome To The Table), CDC (Welcome To The Table) Additional Tags: New Jersey has ptsd, CDC is a doctor, New Jersey has nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD Summary:

New Jersey has a checkup with CDC. He ends up asking hypotheticals about someone who has symptoms of PTSD. CDC sees through the hypotheticals and checks on New Jersey.