#cw: cptsd

[badaziraphaletakes]

"Without knowing or perceiving any danger" except that the Metatrash is a murderous lunatic whose organization has repeatedly put Aziraphale in great danger and who Aziraphale knows collaborates with hell, and therefore could put his husband in great danger as well.

"How would he go about listening in?" First of all, NG literally put in that moment with him hearing Michael from outside the bookshop, to make it so obvious that it's like he's practically hitting us over the head with a 2x4 to make sure we get it. But frankly, I almost wish he hadn't, because the real issue here is that Aziraphale can't afford to assume he's *not* listening in.

(Oh and also he (Metatrash) popped up right after Crowley disclosed the secret of the giant miracle. After 6000 years of forced paranoia, I guarantee Aziraphale picked up on that. You get soooo used to noticing the smallest clues as to what your ab*ser's up to. Hypervigilance, and all. Just because we don't see Aziraphale drink as often as Crowley does, doesn't mean he doesn't have the angelic equivalent of C-PTSD, and probably PTSD too. It's that tired male PTSD stereotype rearing its ugly head again.)

[wanderingibon]

anya deserved so much better

[badaziraphaletakes]

Such good commentary! Thank you so much @turquoisedata for sharing this one with us!

I've seen some people saying that Muriel is annoying, shallow, one-dimensional, etc because of their sunshiney attitude. But those people are missing the point that Muriel isn't happy and sparkly because of a lack of depth as a character - it's actually evidence of how deeply abused and traumatized they are.

Look at the barely concealed sadness on their face when they refer to themself as "no one." Heaven treats them horribly, but they have to just smile and pretend it's fine. Because they're an angel, so what other choice do they have? They've been talked down to and told that they're unimportant for thousands of years. That they're beneath literally all of the other angels, just a 37th order scrivener, a nobody.

And so in order to cope with the horrific way that they're treated, they hide all of their emotions and trauma behind a cheerful mask. But if you look at how they act around the Archangels - how terrified they are to even approach Michael and Uriel, you can see how truly abused they are, and the pain and fear that they're hiding.

The other reason for their over-the-top cheerfulness is that they're so incredibly lonely. They've probably never had a friend - every couple hundred years someone comes and asks them a question, and that's it.

The poor thing has basically been kept in solitary confinement for thousands of years, of course they're going to be thrilled to speak to anyone at all, much less actually get to leave their desk and go to earth. Their sheer delight at everything on earth isn't just them being ditzy - it's the first time they've ever experienced anything other than the cold emptiness of heaven. The first time they've been allowed a tiny break from the horrible way that they're treated by the other angels.

Poor Muriel is so desperate for connection and validation that they're so excited to be needed, even after being called "the dim one" to their face. They hardly even reacted, it definitely wasn't their first time being called something like that.

All in all, Muriel is just like every single one of us who smiles through pain and loneliness and abuse, because we have no other choice. It doesn't mean that they're shallow and airheaded, or that they're any less traumatized than Crowley and Aziraphale. It means that they've learned that smiling is the only way to survive, because they're trapped in a heaven that feels like hell.

[kairoswouldnever]

i hate it how hard it is for me to keep myself functioning

i get it self-care is absolutely non-existent with me but when i fail to keep my space clean, it really bugs me. i sometimes wonder just what kind of mental illness mix do i have, and if it's just cPTSD or some form of a high-functioning depression. i am at a loss, but i know things are wrong.

at least i did clean today. and decluttered. and decided to get rid of some things that most definitely bring no joy, only bad memories.

[honeypiecastiel]

You know what the most fun thing about having cptsd is??? Thinking none of your friends actually care about you and that being solidified when they post pictures of them hanging out without you even though one of them is literally coming with you to a tattoo appointment tomorrow so that you're not anxious and alone. But instead of me recognizing that they can hang out without me I just feel like they don't actually like me because I was shown in my childhood that I don't matter.

[pr1soners-d1lemma]

I don't even remember who I used to be.

[badaziraphaletakes]

Hello! Was looking for something on my blog and found this post

https://www.tumblr.com/turquoisedata/730723784383987712/i-am-literally-crying-because-shit-thats-me

And I wondered if you'd seen it/posted anything along these lines before? (You might have and I might have just missed it because Tumblr hates me and doesn't show me loads of stuff I want to see 🙃)

(if you have you can just delete this!!!)

Hi!

We've touched briefly on the fact that Muriel is very Autistic-appearing (thank you so much for the reblog pointing that out, @phoen1xr0se ! You're the best!) and how that has made people misjudge them as shallow/childish/naive/etc, but as far as I can recall we've never done a post about their traumatized behaviors. I'm so glad this person has done that here!

Thank you so much for sharing this EXCELLENT meta! It definitely didn't make me tear up... ;)

[indecisive-ness]

Good evening Tumblr

This blog will be a collection of thoughts, regarding my personal life, my history, and my objective is especially to find people in a similar situation where I am because I've been feeling like a bird in a cage for the past 3 years and for the next years to come as well, with no end closer...

I don't know if I'll even post any tags here, I'll probably just add #cptsd stuff, as well as #Tori-thoughts alongside it

I'm just so, so tired...

[borderlinejessie]

No silly!! My bpd doesn't make me your dream girl.

You're forgetting I can love you to the point it aches but I can also despise you so much I could ruin your life.

I can be hypers3xual and fun but would you still love me when I'm crying in an oversized hoodie scared to let anyone touch me?

Sure I can party, I'll rave, but what about when the liquor and dr/ug5 become more than a just a little weekend fun?

Maybe I understand why you're also scared of me. I'm scared of me too.

[systematic-breakdown]

polyfrag/cdd things that suck ass cus some of yall need a reminder that this shit is not just a disorder but literally an extension of cptsd. kept it to a small handful because the list would go on forever if there wasnt a limit. this intro is your cw/tw

if you wont/cant read the rest, at least read this:

i love system positivity and its great how much of it theres been. but we need to let both comfort and anguish exist in the same space with equal voices. to wallow in despair is to ignore the light. to cover it up is to invalidate the foundation. we need the yin and the yang.

if youre too fixated on the darker realities, take a moment to look at the brighter ones. if youre too fixated on the good sides, do your part to validate the ugly. you will do yourself, your system, and this community a service.

- never truly feeling complete. the ever-present sense that something inside of you is missing and youll just never know what it is. feeling “fragmented” in a very literal sense

- suddenly hating a food youve always loved and not being able to explain the indifferent grief that comes with losing one of the few things that made you you. also applies to activities, shows/movies, books, music, interests, etc.

- dissociating at the smallest stressor. wdym i no longer feel present/like a person just because vibes were a little off while hanging out with a friend. oh, we’re splitting because of it now? and its another group? ok man sure why the fuck not

- having a conversation with someone and slowly going from “i like/am familiar with this person!” to “if you asked me their name and what they were just talking about i could not tell you”. the transition was too slow to notice until youre suddenly Different from before. you want to “go back”, but it wasnt you. youve lost your reference and all you have left is an ache for something you cant pinpoint and a conversation with a stranger you now have to manage

- trying so hard to remember something that you KNOW happened but its just. gone. its on the tip of your tongue, you used to know the details intimately, you can recall vague colors or feelings but theyre off somehow. like it never happened. or it did and youre getting it wrong. you will forget this recall attempt. and the next. and the one after that too. until you stop trying to recall it. a lot of the time, “it” isnt even about trauma

- fear. exhaustion. exhaustion from what? nothing. nothing that you know of. why are you tired? why are you so tense? why can’t you fall sleep? why won’t you go to the doctors? to school? to a friends place? home? why does the thought of doing anything light your skin up like thorned fire? why does the thought of seeing anyone make you want to run until no one can find you? why does the thought of getting out from under your blanket only make you burrow more? sometimes you know why, sometimes you dont

- amnesia again. forgetting that you forgot. amnesia again. if you forget this, it’s over. if you forget this, then theres no point. if you cant even remember that you forget, you no longer qualify as sick. you are so sick that you wrap around to being normal and doesnt that sting? amnesia again. the word “normal” on you is like wearing an outfit that you loved in the morning and hated by noon. you want to look normal, sound normal, feel normal, be normal but that all just feels so wrong. you changed clothes. you changed. that’s what people tell you, at least. you take what people tell you as the truth. it’s not like you know what you did. people don’t like when you don’t remember so it’s easier to just pretend you do. does this make you “normal” yet?

- major control issues. wonder where that comes from. couldnt possibly be the fact that you are never in control of yourself (the one thing everyone else is capable of doing) /s. you cant even control others to make up for it... do you want to control others? doesnt that make you a bad person? but so-and-so did it and theyre not a bad person, right? the rules are different for you. and now you feel guilty for controlling others (something you didnt do) (but you feel like you did so you overcompensate by baring your neck more than usual) (and then you get angry for exposing yourself like that) (and the cycle repeats)

- it feels like something is touching you. sometimes it feels good, like warmth radiating from your heart or a well timed hug when youre feeling lonely. sometimes its little things, like shifting your arm to pick up a different color crayon or moving you to a different section of the grocery store. sometimes its the holy spirit in your bones, helping you do things without having to think about it. but its not always so passive and nice. sometimes it touches you in places you dont want to be touched. it moves you into positions you dont want to be in. it makes you hurt the way it hurts. there are so many "body feelings" and each of them is significant and distinct. you wonder if this is how they feel. then you berate yourself for personifying it, implying something happened to you at all

- constantly being triggered by people who seem "powerful" or have some semblance of "status" on the hierarchy you've learned to keep memorized. parents, bosses, pastors/priests, old people, anyone who is "above" you suddenly feels like a threat. that mixed with having extremely low self esteem means everyone is a threat. you were always given some lenience when you were "good" so you lower yourself further and teach yourself to depend on them. let them do what they want and youll stop feeling it eventually

- small, confined spaces feeling like a prison and a safe haven all at once. this is as close to peace as you can get

[pr1soners-d1lemma]

In another life, would things be different?

[maggotinfestedwound]

To the COCSA victims whose abusers were younger than them at the time:

It was not your fault.

It is not your fault.

It was not on you to "be the mature one."

It was not on you to "correct" them.

It was not on you to "educate" them.

It's okay if you were afraid

It's okay if you still are afraid

It's okay if it effected you badly

It's okay if it still affects you to this day.

You are not lesser than other survivors whose abusers were older. Your trauma isn't laughable. You don't need to put a disclaimer on your vents about how you were older and should've stopped it etc. etc.

People already love to victim blame survivors. Do not do it for them. Do not victim blame yourself.

You were just a kid too.

[sleeplessv0id]

you had to have realized what you were doing to me. things like that don't happen by accident. things like that don't happen out of 'love.'

[lostmf]

[badaziraphaletakes]

Yes!!! These are such good points!

❤️❤️❤️

Bad Crowley Take for y'all, to mix it up a little bit!

Me when I read this:

Y'all, Crowley did NOT choose to fall. He’s said so many, many, many times. We're getting real tired of explaining this. (EDIT: What I, Mod X, meant to convey here is a. That given that Crowley said he didn’t mean to fall, it feels wrong to doubt his word about his own ab*se, and b. Whatever else Crowley may or may not have chosen, he definitely did not choose being thrown into a pool of boiling sulfur - assuming heaven knew it was there- on himself. No one “chooses” to be tortured that way. Hope this clears some things up. Sorry for the confusion caused by my poor wording.)

And one person’s ab*sive household (company? I don't even know lol) is NOT a "better" or "worse" experience to live through than another. That's just not how it works. We do NOT get to say one ab*se survivor had it “better” than another.