“ hey, look at me. look at me. it’s not real. “
He was hyperventilating, hands clutching at the sides of his head, trying to get himself out of the memory. Because that's what it was. A memory of his father beating him, telling him he was useless, unworthy of love. His eyes were screwed shut, and not even Emma's words reached his ears. Because all he could hear was his father's taunting him. Calling him names, calling him useless, and a disappointment.
"You'll never be good enough. You are not worthy of love. You'll never be worthy." His father's voice rang loud and clear in his ears. Except, it wasn't actually in his ears, it was just his mind, playing tricks on him. And it was part of a memory, but it was also morphing into his current fears. His fear of becoming his father, and being a bad father, and partner. "You will never be a good enough father. You'll never be good enough for her. You should just give up, and leave the world behind." It was still his father's voice telling him these things, making him break even more inside.
His breathing was coming in short and shallow breaths, and with each breath, there was a silent sob wracking through his body, causing it to shake. "I can't. I'm not. He's right." The words were broken, and barely audible. Not a single word was said without a sob wracking his body, the shallow breathing finally starting to affect him. Logically, he knew he was dizzy because of the improper breathing, but his mind was not in a logical place at the moment. And nothing in his surroundings could ground him back to reality. He was far gone in his own memories, in his own misery and his own flashback.
The flashback had been triggered by a simple conversation. Him and Emma had just been talking about the nursery, and how to decorate it. And somewhere along the line, he'd started freaking out, sending him into a full on flashback.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm not good enough. I'm sorry I'm broken." He muttered mostly to Emma, even though he wasn't mentally aware of her presence. His breathing still shallow and short breaths, and tears streaming freely from his eyes, soaking into his shirt as they dropped down his chin.
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Flashback Friday: Originally posted May, 17th 2020
Disability knows no age. Just because someone is young doesn't mean they can't be disabled.
I have several friends who've had to deal with being called liars who are trying to "cheat the system" for years simply because they use mobility aids.
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One | Two | Three
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hurt/comfort
you ever been with your fam having a good time
and suddenly youre back in a terrible no good prison dimension
and you cant tell whats real
cuz same
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a short story about flashbacks and veterans
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‘rough touch’
Send ‘rough touch’
and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }
Your muse grabs my muse’s wrists.
He had been calm, and collected. Just grocery shopping with her. However, it didn't last. Because unbeknownst to her, grabbing his wrists, even if it was just to get him to slow down so she could put something the cart, it freaked him out. He hadn't really told her about what could trigger his PTSD and his flashbacks. It was still hard for him to talk about it. It was why, as soon as he delicate hand wrapped around his wrist, his entire body tensed. He stopped dead in his tracks, his breathing becoming shallow, his body already betraying him, that it was past memories being pulled to the forefront of his mind. Mainly because he was hunching his shoulders forward, cowering in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible.
His whole mind was shutting down, and the only thing out of his mouth, were stuttered apologies. "I'm sorry. How do I fix it? Please, I didn't. Please, I'm sorry." His voice was breaking as he kept rambling out the apologises, and ask how to fix things.
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Flashback Friday: Originally posted April 8, 2020
It's scary that this kit exists. It compares autism to cancer, tells parents to not accept their child's autism, tells them to mourn their VERY LIVING child because they're not neurotypical, and on and on. It's so disturbing.
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I hate it when someone says ‘what you’re feeling is all in your head’ yeah, if you went through some of the shit that I went through, you wouldn’t be saying that.
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