33. she/her. disabled. did & cptsd. sex trafficking survivor. posts might be triggering.
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i’ll never be who i dreamed of as a child. it’s too late for them. it’s too late for me. i’ll always be this way.
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“They call it dissociation. I call it containers in which I horror-stored. Each of which have to be opened, reheated, rolled out like a lava carpet and crawled on.”
— The Nine | Tara Hardy
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TW self harm, alcohol
I got home and fucking cut my foot and got drunk and now I'm just laying here with a paper towel inside my sock, feeling so fucking much better. I feel bad because I plan to lie to my husband if he asks about my foot, but not bad enough to not do it I guess. I don't want him to know so I'm not telling anyone irl.
I'm just. I'm so tired and it's been a bad, triggering af day, and this is what I've chosen to do about it. I'm in my fucking thirties and I'm still acting like a fucking dumbass.
I don't want to be alone right now but my husband isn't going to be home for hours and nobody is answering the phone and. Idk.
I'm just here. Trying to stay alive. Trying to convince myself to stay alive.
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Fuck fuck fuck.
So I'm visiting my grandma today which means I'm also visiting my stepmom, who doesn't believe 80% of my trauma even happened.
A series of very fucking unfortunates events has taken place. The details are unnecessary. But I'm triggered as all fuck and TRAPPED here until my bus comes, then trapped on the bus for 2.5 hours. All the while I have to pretend I'm fine, like I'm not experiencing feelings about the triggers, like I'm not fighting for my life to keep from dissociating, like my dissociated parts aren't freeeeaking out.
I am so mentally unwell it's making me nauseous.
I hate this fucking place and my fucking brain and my fucking trauma and this fucking disorder. Hate hate hate.
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Lost time while I was cooking dinner tonight & burned tf out of the chicken. It was so bad we had to open all the doors and windows to let the smoke air out of the house. Idk which of my parts was fronting at the time but I guess they didn't know we were supposed to be watching the stove. Ughhhhh
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every day living with my disabilities is just an endless refrain of “the world does not treat me gently so i must treat myself gently, even when it’s hard” and i must never ever forget that
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on friends and soulmates and that type of love that feels like it's going to burst right out of your heart
@/zmije / @/leptodiera / @/bichopalo / lyrics from two best friends by bb bean / animatedjames on youtube / @/killingmyselfbutnotdying / unknown / @/sadiekane / friedrich neitzsche / katfish draws / @/elytrians / @/wormbus-art aka @/angel-pond / @/mushysuggestion / the unsent project / mhairi mcfarlane / unknown
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ima be honest if I wasn’t bipolar I’d conceal carry. I am so fucking done with abled people assaulting me and getting away with it. If you threaten my life casually I should be allowed to return the favor. get the fuck away from me. don’t fucking touch me. don’t fucking grab me. don’t fucking push me. I am a pipe bomb. I will kill both of us I swear to fucking god
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I don't generally do a whole lot of graphic trauma dumping in therapy anymore because I'm usually trying to ~figure things out~ and ~implement systems to help me live~ and talking about horrific shit doesn't necessarily help me do that.
But today I definitely spent half an hour talking in detail about some of the injuries I received at the hands of my stepfather and mother and Woo Boy did my therapist have some Looks™ about it. She definitely corrected it right away but a few times I caught her being like 😬👀, and I hate it but at the same time it's validating as fuck.
Like yeah, therapist, it's fucking cringe inducing what they did to me. It was bad. It was, in fact, ~very bad~.
Idk it's been a hard two days guys. But I'm out here surviving it.
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they're burning ballots in the US now btw. in case you wanted to know where things are at.
Edit: to clarify, locations mentioned are Vancouver, Washington and Portland, Oregon. This news story does not involve Canada.
Important info: Context: Dropbox location was Fisher's Landing Transit Center near Southeast 162nd Avenue Hundreds of ballots lost, voters should contact the Clark Auditor ASAP Clark Auditor contact info: clark.wa.gov/auditor Can confirm your ballot was received on: vote.wa.gov
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Jesus Christ this fucking disorder. I've had someone screaming and crying inside my fucking head all day and it's taking everything in me to not let them front and I just wanna lay down inside like ten blankets and not have to be real
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My stepfather was acquitted fifteen years ago today. I'm really not handling it well. My brain feels all over the place and I keep having episodes of dissociative amnesia.
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