#Tw trauma dump

[takami-takami]

Vent post. Untagged. Like, REALLY untagged. This isn't a fun post so it's totally fine to skip. This is literally a trauma dump in every sense of the word.

I feel the need to vomit. I feel as though this feeling is making me lightheaded and I feel the need to physically vomit. I am in a spiral— kind of, mental, I don't want to type that. I don't feel very good. I don't feel good at all.

It really hurts. Like it genuinely really hurts how I want to speak on it or talk on it and then the bile rises. I feel the need to vomit. I'm not having an anxiety attack or anything. I just am.

It hurts feeling like you're not allowed to be upset about the things that happened to you. Even when the reality is so grim and obviously bad. Things like torture, things that caused many a breakdown.

I never out myself back together after the possibky psychotic breaks he caused. I never stopped. I still remember screaming at the bee, and sobbing outside, and digging up worms, and holding them in a jar.

A fly fell from the ceiling as I washed my hands today. It landed on my hands like confetti and I washed it away down the drain. And I remember how many thousands of them lined the walls of the old house. And I remember when my parents made me put my forehead on the cockroach-smeared wall.

I remember how he tried to kill himself in front of me and gleefully explained what my life would be like post grief and how happy he was that that I would know it's my fault for being bad (not cleaning properly). I remember how he forced me to [redacted] as punishment for trying to stop him from beating my siblings. Psychological torture. I remember the torture.

How am I supposed to do anything. And all the while their words keep ringing in my head, the invalidation woven into my fucking brain constantly the way he'd mock and laugh at me. I remember the look of glee on his face, I remember the way he moaned my name to mock me for being upset about him threatening to rape me.

What am I supposed to do. When i still live with this person. I hope to one day explode into confetti. I hope to one day get rid of all the rage and confusion in my . I don't want to type the words.

I don't feel good. I don't fucking feel good. I don't ever feel good and I know outside is beautiful. White clouds, fog, metal pipe curved like a cane above green tile rooftop outside my window. There are birds that nest there and they look like finches. And they carry straw, and I used to give them Mogwai's fur sheddings because prey animals love rabbit fur as insulation for their nests. Those birds have died and new birds have taken their place, Mogwai has died and I put his bed in a bag in the basement after his deathiversary last month.

[circulars-reasoning]

If I recall correctly, you said you had created alters, right? If so, I was wondering how it happened and how they're doing right now. I'm trying to do a bit of research on it to help out a specific alter in our system, but to no avail. We're trying to do this as safely as possible.

Right now, they’re doing well, but when they first formed, it was horrific for them and us. Trauma was… not great! I think it might be time to expand on their stories actually. Too many people in syscourse assume they know things about my alters, and the last time I opened up about them, folks came into my inbox to tell me I was wrong about my experiences.

Tw for suicidal ideation, harassment, depression, and alter death.

Debra:

She was our first created alter, and the one we actually consciously purposefully created. In terms of us having a created alter, she’s probably the one who counts — LED’s experience is closer to a regular traumatic split, but I’ll get to him later.

Context for this time of my life: We were in high school. We had never heard of DID, we were being actively abused on two fronts (parental abuse and COCSA), and the only people who we felt understood us were folks much older than me online who I talked to on a daily basis. I thought my alters were just imaginary friends to represent my emotions. The voices I heard were just my emotions and feelings, very loudly, and I was imagining those emotions as people — like Inside Out!! And this was normal, my peer abuser told me. Yay! (Oof.)

Wade was our main fronter at home. He held onto a lot of our depression and dealt with the brunt of the current abuse from our parents. He was also dealing with gender issues and just generally was struggling. We started getting more and more suicidal and depressed, and our systems only way of handling that emotion was repression (via Numb’s emotional blocking or Sierra’s toxic optimism).

Finally, one night, Wade got the closest he ever got to self harm. It was nothing, really - the mark of it was gone within an hour - but it panicked him, and he reached out to our friend at the time.

This friend comforted him and told him that he needed to manage his depression somehow. We knew we couldn’t get therapy, so he suggested something he’d heard of before, about parts therapy. AKA, IFS. “Your depression is a part of you. What you need to do is talk to it. Imagine a person; someone who is all of those depressing thoughts. And talk to that person; why do they treat you that way?”

Those aren’t direct quotes. In all actuality, all of this is so blurry. I was so fucked up and stressed, it’s not hard to know I split. But the thing is, Debra’s split was entirely different than any other split I’ve had. All of my other alters, it was… one second they’re not there, the next they are.

Debra didn’t do that. When Wade imagined someone to talk to, it wasn’t in our innerworld. It was in a different space, where we imagine our thoughts happening. Deb was entirely imaginary, and she seemed to say things as I thought them. Each negative thought I had was suddenly her saying them. (Sometimes, it seemed almost as if she would say the thought before I had it.) For every night for a week, they talked — though, it was more Debra talking and us listening and feeling worse about ourselves.

That first conversation, I remember Wade feeling better — empty, but not suicidal. After imagining Debra for that first time, Wade only felt non-suicidal if she was talking to him. Sometimes that didn’t even help, because really, she was just imagined — we were planning her thoughts. Until, suddenly, we weren’t anymore.

Side note: Deb is the first marked hallucination we have had. We were walking home from the bus stop, which was always inherently dissociative for us, and we looked over at our house. Out of the corner of our eyes, we saw Deb, floating around the cars parked on the road. We panicked at that, but a second later, she was gone. We believed magic was real for a solid day after that, and that our imagination was coming to real life.

After that week, Debra was autonomous. She started to slip out of the void and into our innerworld. She started to harass Wade in a living hell 24/7, instead of from 11pm to whenever Wade finally passed out at night. And she hated a lot of us. She expressed that we should all kill ourselves so she could take over, because she was so much better than the rest of us. It was around this time that Wade made his trauma room in our innerworld and ceased fronting as often.

It only ended when Numb, fed up with her and panicked from even him feeling the suicidal ideation, killed her. Protector killing the persecutor, how classic. He crushed her to death innerworld.

Deb didn’t make a reappearance until college, when she emerged from dormancy. But in the meantime, there are two blank years of my life after we killed Debra. I have so few memories from those years, I could count them on my hands. Clearly, killing her destabilized us, but if we hadn’t, I have no doubt I wouldn’t be alive today. She was succeeding in her goals, and it sounded logical to us at the time. We’ve worked hard to make peace with what happened.

LED:

College. We’re now self dx’d as having DID. We’re no longer around our peer abuser, and in fact had ‘broken up’ with her after she ‘crossed a line’. I was now an hour away from my parents (though I had to call them each night and drive home each weekend). I was living with my then-roommate-now-fiancé and I was best friends with the only person in my life who knew I had DID, who lived in a different dorm. We were convinced Rice was a host by people online, and we were in pro-endo spaces (though had yet to strongly participate in syscoruse spaces).

Deb came back. At the time, I was in a nice Singlet Era Lite(tm) — aka, Rice fronted almost constantly, until she would collapse and meltdown and then we would rapid switch for the next few days, only for Rice to power back to front. It was unstable, unhealthy, and an incredible burden on Rice (one she is still recovering from to this day). Until, one night (at 3am), Rice was on the verge of a mental collapse again. She was down on herself, convinced she was a failure.

And then Deb was there, telling her she was, telling her how worthless she was, and altogether making everything harder.

That summer, Deb would take to harassing Rice, in particular. We had a flawed idea from the systems we spoke to that Rice was the “original core identity” and that the goal of DID healing was to integrate* those identities into one. She wanted Rice to feel out of control, so Deb could take over as host. If she could just become the original identity somehow, then we could fuse and just be perfect like her.

The best way she could think to make Rice no longer be in control? Make Rice split. Force a split, make Rice create someone, just like how we’d made Deb, and make Rice realize she was pathetic.

So, the nightly torture began. No sleep until 3am most nights, passive influence of suicidal ideation, near constant whispering about our mistakes. And, long story short, one night it worked.

Rice finally had enough, and completely went dormant in her room. And, in her place, was LED. Not visualized like Deb had been, but planned by Deb, and made specifically to counteract her. Debra is a being of darkness and shadow; LED’s name is literally Light Emitting Diode. Debra is an ageless demon; LED is a 10 year old ray of sunshine.

Only… Debra came for him, said hello, and. Well. LED took one look at her, screamed so loud I thought it happened in real life, and shattered. Broke apart into a million pieces and went immediately dormant.

This shocked Debra enough to actually break through to her at least. Damage was done, though. A new split and two dormancies in one night. Deb retreated from the front and left everyone else to clean up the mess while she watched. Rice remained dormant for a few months, and would only come back for, at most, a few hours at a time before having a breakdown and leaving for, usually, around a half a year. LED didn’t come back for almost a year after that. Debra had a “come to Jesus” talk with our friend who was in the know, and she started helping out some.

Now:

They get along really well! It’s been years and years since those incidents. Deb feels guilt for what she did back then, but everyone’s forgiven her — LED being one of the first. He actually apologized to her for being scared. Goddamn sweet guy.

Both of them have adapted to the system, but needed time to adjust. LED adjusted in dormancy, whereas Debra had to adjust after she returned from dormancy. It was… incredibly unstable for us after Debra’s creation. Our therapist cites that as part of the risk of IFS with DID systems, and how it can lead to increase dissociative barriers. It did for us.

We call both created, because there was purpose behind their splits. Debra was imagined consciously, purposefully, to hold trauma. LED was purposefully made (even if unplanned, visually and personality wise) to make Rice feel worthless (and instead made her feel stronger… after a year or so). We also distinctly call both of them created traumagenic alters.

Whew. That was a long one. I’m gonna to rest after that…

[suddenly-a-possum]

TAKE THAT MOM

guys hot uquiz was just discovered but I'm taking it about 100 yrs too late. anyways everyone share how wifeable you are.

THE WIFE RATING SCALE 1929

[sunnybluebunny]

Leaving an unsafe living situation tomorrow morning, and my stomach is in knots. Kinda feel like I’m gonna throw up. The finish line is almost here, but it feels so far away.

[azrael-is-haunted]

⚠️ TRAUMA DUMP ⚠️

remembering that one time my brother told me that he hopes my boyfriend beats me and I get sold into sex trafficking 🥰 (the emoji is sarcastic)

[blxckblxxdbxb3]

tw vent trauma dump ngl ://

im currently 7mo and some change clean from dr0gs and every once in awhile i get hit with so much regret and hurt i saw a tiktok before this minor breakd0wn about this girl protecting a new user from guys wanting to sh00t her up and ruin her and i jus wish i coulda had someone like that around when i was younger i always say i dont regret a lot because i gained knowledge and im less naive but honest to god i want to be naïve again i want to blind trust someone without suspicions to love easy and jus plainly be happy i want to be 13 again even if that means dealing with my mother and the nasty divorce and actively kmsing myself everyother week if it meant if never ever touched dr0gs i want my innocence back.

[notaplaceofhonour]

it’s october 7th. you hear about the attack by seeing people you followed glorifying the terrorist attack—a massacre, a pogrom—as victory & justified resistance, glorifying a terrorist group that was founded with the explicit intent to kill your entire people

you make a post in which you make it clear you support palestinians and oppose the ways israel has wronged them, explaining that the terrorist group is still not good. you know you will probably get some flacc from the pro-Hamas side, but naively underestimate how much.

you get thousands of notifications on that one post, the majority of them hateful comments.

some of the response is positive. multiple messages thank you for the post, expressing bafflement that it’s controversial.

a few Israelis are upset at the loaded language in your post, but explain their problems with it civilly. you called Israel “apartheid”. they ask you what apartheid laws Israel has. you admit you honestly don’t know.

your inbox is flooded with anonymous hate from anti-Israel leftists.

over the course of a few weeks you have received hundreds of death threats, a dozen rape threats. people accuse you of being pro-genocide. you’re a literal Nazi. you’re racist, you thirst for the blood of Palestinians. you’re brainwashed by propaganda, a shill for The Zionist Entity. a few of the hate messages are from literal Neo-Nazis; the overwhelming majority are from leftists, many of them queer.

you are considering suicide.

you see footage of the october 7th attacks. you see footage of the bombings in gaza. you see footage of a Jewish man being murdered at an anti-Israel rally.

a popular creator you follow posts in support of an antisemitic hate group that masquerades as a Jewish organization. this organization regularly posts blood libel and other antisemitic rhetoric, works with groups that are even more explicitly antisemitic, including celebrating October 7th, holocaust inversion, blood libel, “Khazar theory” and others. more than one of the orgs they work with is pro-Putin.

your former roommate liked the post.

graffiti appears on a street you frequent that says “#freepalestine” and “end settler colonialism”

the boyfriend of the friend you spent most of the summer with makes his first post about the war. it’s a reposted comic that mocks and downplays the october 7th attack.

you doubt he’ll be receptive to criticism. he’s shared leftist memes about “monied elites” pulling all the strings and evangelicals being modern day “pharisees” in the past, and getting him to understand why that was antisemitic was like herding cats. you try anyway.

another of his Jewish friends also pushes back. he smugly dismisses her, tells her she’s falling for Zionist propaganda and uses several antisemitic tropes. you go off on him. he just deletes your comment.

you give up. you’re done. you block him.

you see anti-Israel posters and billboards around town

you mention what happened with the guy you went off on to his girlfriend—the friend you’ve grown very close to, who you’ve been listening to as she unburdens her fears for the future and complains about her bf’s BS over the last year. she doesn’t respond to you.

a friend of a friend shares posts tokenizing fringe groups that spread blood libel and have collaborated with holocaust deniers. you know they don’t know what you know, so you explain what those groups are. they seem somewhat receptive, apologize, and take it down

the next day they share several more posts that dip into antisemitic tropes. you mention this to your mutual friend, that you’re worried about them being radicalized. you’re not sure how receptive they’ll be to continued criticism

you have a confrontation with the foaf. in the meantime they’ve shared even more antisemitic posts. they say they didn’t mean to cause you distress but instead of stopping they effectively block you.

the “end settler colonialism” vandalism has been counter-vandalized with the words “commie propaganda” in place of “settler colonialism”. you don’t know if this is an improvement.

a month passes. the friend whose bf you went off on still hasn’t spoken to you. you see she shared a post defending an SJP chapter that posted Nazi cartoon caricatures of Jews repurposed in “Anti-Zionist” memes. you unfriend her on all social media platforms but you can’t bring yourself to block her number.

you see a friend of someone whose couch you surfed when you were homeless harassing Jewish celebrities with “Free Palestine” comments. you block them.

you’ve lost count of how many people you’ve unfollowed or blocked, or who’ve blocked you. friends, content creators.

when a friend takes an unusually long time to respond you worry if it’s because of your posts about antisemitism.

most of the podcasts, youtube channels, and other content creators you regularly engaged with no longer feel safe. you wonder who will be next

a couple friends wish you a happy hanukkah. you don’t celebrate much aside from lighting the hanukkiah and making some latkes.

you see posts about a destroyed chabad menorah, antisemitic comments on Jewish celebrities’ Hanukkah posts.

your neighborhood is covered in pro-Palestine & anti-Israel posters. some are seemingly innocuous, some are JVP “not in our name” posters. some call for intifada. “globalize the intifada” “Zionists fuck off!” “solidarity means attack!”

a man kills himself shouting “free palestine”. you learn about his suicide by seeing posts from several popular accounts you followed glorifying it.

you follow a bunch of jewish accounts on social media and commiserate with them about everything happening

your jewish friends post screenshots of the dead man’s antisemitic, pro-Hamas views. you look at his reddit and find even more horrific shit: anti-Ukraine posts. mocking Zelensky. “elites” are “lizard people”; the only named individual he calls a lizard person is Jewish. you start to notice a pattern: a lot of the people he dislikes just so happen to be jews.

several people you know share a post glorifying this man’s suicide. most are acquaintances, one is someone incredibly important to you.

you wonder how they would respond to your suicide.

you tell the close friend that shared this post how it scares you. you show them the receipts of the man’s antisemitism. their response is a single sentence. they didn’t know about the antisemitism.

they don’t apologize.

you notice none of your irl friends, even your closest ones, interact with your posts about antisemitism. you are able to vent to a couple friends, but no one has reach out to you

you try not to read into it. you try not to take it personally.

you haven’t slept well in months. you’ve always been an insomniac but not like this. you’re not sleeping until 4am, 6am, even 9am. even when you get to bed at a decent hour and get a full night’s rest it takes you hours to get out of bed.

a few weeks go by. the friend with the single sentence response shares a post saying they’re excited and proud to join a group to help palestinians. you’re excited and proud for them.

a couple days later, they share a post about a fundraiser to help a palestinian family get out of gaza. you note to yourself this is a much more effective & less concerning form of activism than the pro-suicidal antisemite post.

your friend shares another post about the fundraiser. it’s a joint post between their group and another group.

you open the other group’s page

the page is just a wall of signs from rallies. you swipe through one after another: “from the river to the sea”, “by any means necessary”, justifying/denying the atrocities of october 7th, calling for violent revolution. anything done in the name of resistance can’t be terrorism, all Israelis are terrorists. Jews aren’t indigenous; they’re white colonizers. holocaust inversion. other vile, thinly veiled violent rhetoric

you feel sick to your stomach imagining talking to your friend about it.

you already feel like you’re burdening the few friends you can talk to about this. you already feel like you think about it too much, talk about it too much. but you can’t not think about it; it affects every aspect of your life.

you’ve filtered out relevant keywords on more than one social media site to avoid the worst of it. some still manages to leak through.

there isn’t a single friend you regularly interact with that you don’t fear the moment when they will switch from listening to your concerns to seeing you as the evil zionist or indoctrinated hasbaranik they’ve been warned about.

it’s not an irrational fear. it keeps happening. you knew it would then, and you were powerless to do anything about it before, and you continue to be as it happens again and again.

you don’t know what to do about any of it.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

Trigger Warning: Drug Use (Marijuana) / Discussion of death & loss / Transcript under the cut

Nancy: Are you going to tell me where we’re going?

Vanessa: Ever heard of savoring the moment? Basking in the adventure of the unknown?

Nancy: This sounds like a slasher film in the making.

Vanessa: You’re no fun, but fine. We’re going to my secret spot.

Nancy: Why are you taking me? What if I told someone about it?

Vanessa: You said you’re not a narc. Besides, we broke bread together.

Nancy: Oh, I see. I have dirt on you, so now you have dirt on me?

Vanessa: Wooow, Blondie! You have some serious trust issues.

Nancy: [mutters] Well. I don’t know you all that well..

Vanessa: I’m not mad. That makes sense. That just means I have to work extra hard to get you to trust me. I must warn you, I’m annoyingly persistent.

Nancy: What?

Vanessa: Nothing!

Nancy: Ok, seriously. What are we doing here?

Vanessa: Looking for my stash...ah fuck! Did someone jack my- ah-ha! Here she is!

Nancy: Who?

Vanessa: [sings] Mary Jane, I love her just the same.

Nancy: You brought us all the way out here to smoke pot?

Vanessa: What, you’d rather do it in front of the nuns? Get in here.

Vanessa: So, what’s your deal?

Nancy: My deal?

Vanessa: Yeah, like, why are you here? I doubt you saw a packet in the mail and thought, ‘I’d sure love to spend my senior year at a boring Catholic boarding school’. Unless you heard about all the hot guys here, then that makes sense.

Nancy: Wasn’t my idea.

Vanessa: Ok. So, what happened?

Nancy: [huffs] Well, if I talk about it then it never goes away, does it? That’s kind of the whole point.

Vanessa: [hums] Well, you’re in the right place, that’s for sure.

Vanessa: [murmurs] All you have to do is pray, and it all goes away.

Nancy: What’s your story?

Vanessa: Not much of a story. I was raised in the church. Heir to my family’s fortune. Blah blah blah. You know how it is, being a Landgraab and all.

Nancy: It wasn’t always like that. My brother was supposed to be next in line, but he died when I was 4.

Vanessa: Fuck, I’m sorry.

Nancy: It’s- I barely remember him, so..

Vanessa: [after a beat] My mom died giving birth to me. My father says I’ll spend the rest of my life being great to atone for it. That’s actually all he says to me.

Nancy: I don’t think my father knows he even has a daughter. I bet he doesn’t know the color of my eyes- he hasn’t looked me in them my whole life.

Vanessa: [laughs] What the fuck? We're really messed up, huh? You know, you’re not like any of the other girls here.

Nancy: Is that a bad thing?

Vanessa: No. I’m not like any of them either.

Nancy: [coughs aggressively]

Vanessa: [laughs] Don’t swallow it! We should head back before they start room checks. You do not want to catch Sister Anges in the halls after curfew.

Vanessa: [cackling] Move your ass, Landgraab!

Nancy: Shhh! We’ll get caught!

Sister Agnes: And where are you two coming from?

Nancy: We? Um. We...

Vanessa: From the greenhouse, Sister Agnes. I was just showing the new girl around. Nancy says she loves her some pot-

Nancy: -tted plants! Potted plants!

Sister Agnes: You should know the rules better than anyone, Ms. Villareal. No loitering in common areas without a chaperone. Up to bed now.

Nancy: Pot? Really?

Vanessa: I thought it would be funny!

Vanessa: Today was pretty fun. You should come hang out with us during rec. Dina and Nina are total bitches but they’re funny.

Nancy: Sure. Yeah. Cool.

Vanessa: Cool. ‘Night Blondie.

Nancy: Goodnight...Red.

[pomarrillo]

watched the gg trauma center letsplay a bit ago and it made me actually pick up the game for 13 bucks lmao

[offkilterkeys]

I don’t know how to feel about this Eridan because reasons.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My teacher traumadumped on me because he had just gotten out of an abusive marriage. Also, he was shirtless.

[softwaring]

one of the stupidest things i’ve realized abt my life is that i walk on my tippy toes only to avoid making noise bc of childhood trauma/abuse… making any sort of noise led to a beating or something else and it’s so fucked up to realize this… i love that im so light footed and can’t make a noise, but the reason makes me sick ???

[myfandomrealitea]

thank you for reaffirming to me that it makes other people really uncomfortable when you are feeling down and need support

I'm sorry Anonymous Individual, your card declined. It appears you've maxed out the balance. Would you like to try another?

[system-of-a-feather]

Tell me a thing about your childhood that isn't inherently super traumatic but is sus and kinda indicitive of the environment you grew up in.

I'll start, my childhood favorite movie series from when I was under five was the Final Destination series.

[take-a-dip-in-the-deadpool]

Me: Hey look this load sticker says '9/11' haha

Boomer Coworker: Thats was a national tragedy [we're canadian] Millions died! [maybe check those numbers]

Me: Yea I know I watched it happen live when i was 14. It was during my english class 10 minutes after my bully pantsed me in front of the everyone. Then after school when I tried to tell me parents about it they pointed at the t.v. and told me to "get some perspective"

Boomer Coworker: jesus...

[dazai-mackerel]

i’m immune to the ‘1, 2, 3’ thing that parents do cus like- what’s the worst they could do? hit me? been there- done that.