#divorces abuse break ups manipulation etc are much more common in relationships than it being a healthy relationship

[kavehayati]

If I had a genie and could make one wish I’d wish that romantic relationships and anything to do with falling in love would be completely eradicated from existence. Not only is it gross and weird, but it’s also fundamentally an issue, like you can’t tell me it’s anything feasible to yearn for or believe in when so many crimes hardships and negativity stems as a by product of love. I wish everyone was aroace and we sprout from the soil via mitosis but somehow we still have genetic variation bc it’s a unique sub section of mitosis where it’s a hybrid of mitosis and meiosis.

[ibringyouasong89]

Self-Awareness Time, Part One:

So I’m reading this article one day, (see article here: https://psych2go.net/6-signs-youll-be-single-forever/), and realize how some of this is true, but also some of it is bullshit. Spoiler Alert: I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was 18.  Is it because I haven’t wanted to be with someone, or be in a relationship, since that one ended? Quite the contrary, actually. I have dreamed, since I was a small child, of a perfect soulmate for me, and that it would be a Disney-movie-ending come true for the rest of my life. Having my first (and since then, only) boyfriend break up with me (so he could go out with my ex-best friend, who in turn, dumped her boyfriend of three years - who was my childhood friend from elementary school - in order to be with him; it was dramatic, stupid, and messy, i.e. we were teenagers who thought they knew themselves but didn’t have a clue) did not, in fact, deter those dreams at all. The problem is that I didn’t learn to love myself. I learned to move on, which is always wonderful, but I didn’t hold myself in any higher esteem than I had before, and while I was with him. It wasn’t a reflection on being with him, but more or less, a reflection of myself and how I saw myself, based on my childhood and certain experiences. Fast forward a couple of years later: my parents are divorced, my father is dead, my childhood friends have disappeared out of my life for the most part, I live with my mother and grandfather (who was close to dying himself), and I am now living in a different state, faraway from everything I know and love and hate everything about this new place. I hated (and still do, for many of these points) the polluted environment, I hated the lack of nature (I moved to a metropolitan-region within the realm of a major city), I hated how crowded it is, I hated how everyone lives on top of one another; I hate the noise, the traffic, and most of all, I hated how alien and out of place I feel. I knew I didn’t belong, but because of finances, and having an ineffective bachelor’s degree (that didn’t come with a lifetime guarantee of having a career, as promised by my parents and elder generations. Though it did come with the nice guarantee of student loans), I was unable to move anywhere else. I was unable to be independent, financially or otherwise, and could do nothing to make my dreams a reality or to improve my life. In short, I was stuck. And hating every minute of it, along with myself. To be fair, I wasn’t an emotionally healthy person to start off with - but I mean, who is by the time they’re 23, 24 years old, and a culminating reflection of time, pressure, past abuse, parental issues, trust issues, abandonment issues, lack of socializing/being ostracized for being different, and self-worth and self-love issues? No one, and I mean, NO ONE, is taught how to love themselves, completely, as a child. I don’t care who raised you or where you grew up. This is a fundamental truth and fact. But I met someone. Lo and behold, there came this divine gift, one day, of someone who was just like me! He didn’t have the same issues as I, but he understood in a general sense (as any individual who has a certain degree of sympathy and empathy can do), and made me feel seen (even if I hated it at times). Someone who, in all honesty, has fundamentally changed me forever. And to think I met him at my job! (i.e. retail). This person...well, I thought he might’ve been THE ONE. I was really, REALLY in love with him. More so than I ever thought I could be with someone.  Our connection was real and based on emotional, mental, and spiritual intimacy (there was none of the physical, which was probably for the best, in the end), and I had never loved anybody before, in the entire history of being connected to family and friends, the way I had loved him. I thought he was truly something special - a gift from the universe that not only allowed to experience this once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, but also because of how OBVIOUS it was that we were meant for each other. (I was so arrogant back then and admit it heartily now). Well, suffice to say, it didn’t end in rainbows-and-sunshine-for-years-to-come. He had already been entering a relationship when I met him, while also having his heart broken by another girl. As the saying goes: wrong place and time. While I was busy pining over him and fantasizing about us being together romantically (after building this incredible connection and deep friendship), he was happily living his life and enjoying his relationship...even though, for a time, he went out of his way to spend time with me and deepen our emotional intimacy further. He told me things about himself, and his life, that he swore he had never told another human being before in his life. But it all came to a grinding halt one day - out of the blue - when he severed our connection with all of the swiftness and severity of a well-placed swing from a sharpened blade. Later he would confess that it wasn’t intentional - it was because he was busy cutting other people out of his life and I got caught up in the “crossfires” of it all via social media and the like *insert eyeroll here* - but that he had also been conscious of my burgeoning feelings for him, and felt “flattered” that I had come to regard him so greatly. He promised to re-open the lines of communication between us again and to be a better friend. Spoiler Alert Part Two: None of these promises were fulfilled. Now, some of you (or whoever reads this long-ass personal post) might say “Well, maybe in knowing about your feelings, THAT was why he didn’t bother talking to you anymore. It made him uncomfortable, especially since he was in a relationship with someone else. He just wanted to make a clean break.” To be completely honest, I was aware of that possibility from the get-go. The problem is that he claimed (during this period of seeking me out and spending quality time with me) his relationship with his girlfriend was “casual.” That he was more than aware that he was her first boyfriend, but that he knew it wouldn’t last. In knowing that, he still pursued a relationship with that girl (though his self-prophecy did come to pass...three years later). Now, there were never any promises made about entering a relationship with ME, as some of you may point out as well. I agree. There are, and never will be, any guarantees when it comes to the heart. Someone who learns to love another is quite capable of also learning how to un-love that same individual, at any time. And hatred, as many know, is not the opposite of love; apathy is its true counterpart.

No, what was truly hurtful was that he knew that truth, honesty, compassion, consideration, and genuineness were core values of mine. Values that I thought he shared...but turned out to be lies when he revealed his regard, or lack-there-of, for me in the end. When he did not confront me over my feelings for him and instead played ignorant for the sake of his own happiness. When he promised that this did not interfere with his ability to be my friend, even after confessing said romantic intentions to him, and probably lying about it all the same. He knew of my past, my issues, and had probably guessed at my level of loneliness and knew about my lack of friends since moving away from my hometown...and didn’t think twice of ditching me, nor of how his sudden “ignorance” about our bond would effect my feelings. That being “one of the guys” was my true status - despite the fact that I have breasts, a vagina, lack a penis, and had never acted in a “masculine way” around him (aside from being intelligent, having common sense, being interested in comic books, music, and movies, having a deep appreciation for classic muscle cars, and a biting sense of sarcasm); i.e. no hanging out in bars with him and his male friends, no doing stupid shit for giggles, no running around in the middle of the night to each other’s houses to smoke pot and drink in the basement, not being into sports and wrestling, recalling the same stupid stories from high school and retelling them, over and over again, along with the same stupid jokes, etc...And I’m not judging any female (or person) who does DO this, or enjoy these things! I’m just simply describing how he, and his friends, acted and what their similar interests are. I was “friend-zoned” (which is a ridiculous phrase, but I can’t think of anything else to describe it as), but was NOT treated like a friend any longer. I was treated like a stranger or an acquaintance that you remember vaguely seeing in the hallways and cafeteria when you attend your high school reunion (that guy who makes you go “Oh, *Insert Name Here*! Omg! How are you?! Wow, it’s been a while! Great to see you lost all that weight! So uh...how’s things?”). In short: I was being gas-lit. For anyone who has experienced this, you have my deepest sympathies and my ear and shoulder, whenever you would like. Of course part of the blame falls on me too: for treating romantic love like a drug I couldn’t live without, for depending on someone too much for my happiness, and for allowing myself to be treated as someone who is less than worthy of real love, respect, consideration, kindness, compassion, and honest, open communication.

So, not only did this guy break my heart, but he also threw me, and our friendship, away like it all meant nothing. It became obvious then that I, and our bond, had never mattered to him at all.  The worst part is that he continued to flirt with me, stringing me along (unknowingly or not), while also maintaining this enforced distance! (Which is also COMPLETELY WRONG TO DO TO ANYONE!) In truth, I think he’s an unaware narcissist who doesn’t realize, on an unconscious level, how manipulative he can really be. It’s sad. But I know, without wishing for it or egging the universe on, that there is a lesson waiting for him in the wings of the cosmos that will enable him to truly understand the lows, and highs, of true personal awareness (if it should come to pass - anything is possible, in any way, shape, or form). But back to the point: In conclusion, my soul was shattered. My heart was a destroyed. I fell into a depression based, not only on this heartbreak, but also my heart being broken by ME. I was so unhappy with everything going on, and not, in my life and it all felt so hopeless and pointless. I could see no path forward, no future for myself, that didn’t result either in me being unhappy or being unstuck. (Hell, even writing about all of this is allowing the phantom pains to rise from their graves in my heart, which makes me realize how much healing, and self-love, I still have to gain). This, however, was the beginning of my awakening for me.

It dawned on me like the rising sun within me that I really SHOULDN’T put stock into having people depended upon so much to MAKE me happy. I should be making MYSELF happy. But then the deepest question, out of the pit of darkness within my soul, arose: Why WASN’T I happy with myself?

[lovesick-kitty]

Hello kittycutysicky 1,2,10,12

1. When did you first realize that something was wrong?

i have always been off, but i really started to notice it around the end of 5th grade. (i think i was around 10 years old?) i was placed into counseling for a short amount of time after i had threatened to kill myself during a fight with my best friend. i was also constantly daydreaming and felt disconnected from my surroundings, everything was really hazy and, at the time, i didn’t know what dissociation was. i had just assumed that everyone felt that way sometimes. I started to realize that most people didn’t actually feel this way. and most people my age didn’t feel suicidal either. that’s when it really clicked that something was wrong.

2. What was your childhood like?

My home life was unstable. my mom divorced my father when i was very young due to his alcoholism. she started seeing a couple other guys and they were very bad people; they mistreated me and my mother. my mom and the people she saw were constantly fighting. i was mistreated by them for most of my childhood. (CPS even got involved a couple times.) We also, as a family, moved around a lot during that time too. In school, i was a good student and managed to get placed into advanced classes, but I didn’t fit in well. I had friends, but I definitely struggled. It wasn’t all bad though, I have many good memories, too! Although my father wasn’t around for very long, I remember he sometimes took me and my older brother to super fun places. I still have the souvenirs from those days. There’s so many other things I could talk about but I don’t wanna write too much!

10. What are three myths about BPD that people need to understand- and three hard truths about BPD?

Myths:

Borderlines are just dramatic

BPD isn’t that serious/not a valid diagnosis

People with BPD are manipulative and only want attention

Hard Truths:

Borderlines experience emotions far more intensely than the average person. While spiked emotions may just appear “dramatic” from an outside perspective, the emotions are very real for the person experiencing them. They can be so painful that many people with bpd turn to escape methods/try to numb the pain by using methods such as drugs, alcohol, deliberate self-harm, etc. Telling a borderline they are “just being dramatic” invalidates what they are going through.

BPD is a severe condition that can require treatment; neglecting care for the disorder can be severely harmful. Suicide rates among borderlines are extremely high, with 10% of borderlines dying from suicide (this is 50% higher than the general population)

The idea that people with BPD are manipulative and only want attention is a very negative and harmful stigma. People with BPD feel emotions more intensely than the average person, and, many people diagnosed with BPD also struggle with depression, anxiety disorders, substance abuse, and eating disorders, among other things. While some borderlines behave in toxic ways (especially in media representation), they do not represent everyone else with the disorder or even the majority.

12. Can you please explain how your BPD has taken control over your life- please list and describe three main areas for someone that is not well educated on this disorder.

Interpersonal Relationships - Everyone experiences the disorder differently. In my case, I struggle a lot with attachment and emotional dependency. I always seem to end up with a “FP” (favorite person). FPs, for people with BPD, are people - or, a person, whom they have an emotional dependency on. FPs can make or break our days and it’s usually a roller coaster of emotions to have a FP. I can be having a great day and be in a great mood, but notice my FP left a message on read, and spiral downhill for the rest of day as a result. I know it’s irrational to think and feel this way, so I try my best to never bring it up or act on it during our interactions. However, I can’t stop feeling these intense emotions over my FP’s words and actions that should not bother me. To give some more examples, it can also be things like, a shift in tone in their voice, them spending time with other friends, talking to me less than normal, even just being busy with life! These things lead to me spending hours in bed because of the intensity of my emotions, self-harming, and I used to have a problem with alcohol. There is honestly so, so much more to this but I don’t wanna write too much.

Sense of Identity - I dont really know who I am; my interests and goals can shift rapidly. I’ll find a new hobby and think i’m passionate about it, only to get bored and lose interest soon after. I’ll pick out a career path, and think “this is it!! this is what i’ll do with my life!!” and change my mind the next day. I don’t know what I’m passionate about, I don’t know what I want for my future, it’s always changing and i get discouraged easily. I don’t understand who I am as a person, i pick up characteristics and viewpoints from my friends or even characters i admire, but I don’t know how much of it is actually “me”, especially since these characteristics can sometimes conflict with each other, if that even makes sense?. My image of myself is usually distorted in some way. Body Dysmorphia is another common symptom of BPD and it involves obsessing over perceived flaws in appearance. One example is that I weigh 85 pounds and once I start to get close to 90, I start eating an unhealthily low amount to maintain the 85. Another thing that affects my self image is “black and white thinking”. it’s the inability to see both the good and bad in something, you either see “all good” or “all bad”. so sometimes I think of myself as an a great person, an angel even. other days, i hate myself more than you can imagine. This sort of thinking also applies to the way i sometimes view other people, not just the way i view myself, and this relates more to #1- I often switch between idealizing and idolizing somebody i’m close to, and devaluing them. One day they are a saint and nothing less, but after something minor, they are suddenly a monster of a human being. and it can go back and forth. (this is also called splitting) It’s an awful way of thinking, but i’ve learned to recognize it and I try not to act on these thoughts- managing and rationalizing them is key!  

Day to Day Life - As somebody who is unmedicated, not in therapy, and living in a toxic environment, i struggle. Because my mood can shift so easily, I can never really trust myself to be okay. I have moments, or sometimes even days, where i’m beaming with joy and i accomplish a lot, and tell myself i can do this everyday. but i always end up crashing back down. or, i just lay in bed for hours feeling drained, unmotivated, and incapable of accomplishing things. 

There is so much more that I didn’t get into, but i covered a couple important things! If you actually read this all the way through- thank you so much for taking the time to listen to my thoughts- this is something that I don’t really talk about, most of my friends and even the people im closest to don’t know too much; i just don’t talk about it often, so im glad to share my experiences and thoughts on this ♡

[yaidenpart-blog]

Writing Dark Themes

Some stigma circulates around writers who tackle dark subjects regularly. Those writers tend to be treated a bit, well, like they're gonna pull out the fangs anytime and suck your blood. Today I'll talk about this stigma, approaching dark subjects in fiction in general, and my thoughts on Writing Dark Themes (And Why You Shouldn't Be Ashamed to Do so).

In preparation for this post, I read a dozen analyses, studies, and an absurd amount of psychology articles so I wouldn't show up empty handed and stupid. Though to be honest, the only thing that deep dive resulted in for me is dry eyes and a giant headache. Therefore, while I may build some arguments on top of the things I've researched, I'll use my own experiences to wing a big part of it.

So let's get started.

1. What Draws Us to Dark Subjects

What draws us towards dark themes? To reach a satisfying conclusion I first have to determine what exactly is included in 'dark themes' in this case. I'll mainly talk about the content matter of fiction, not equated to but also not divorced from the literary term 'theme’ describing the underlying meaning of a work. Basically, I'll fudge both together because to me they have always been inseparable in writing.

Since violence and disturbing motifs (such as abuse, gore, disturbing sexual content etc.) traditionally play a prominent role in the horror and thriller genres I'll center my attention on those. Though I'll also take care to explore dark themes in a broad sense applicable to other genres as well.

Various factors play a part in making the dark appealing to us, one being the human desire to peek behind the curtain and rob our fears of their power. By facing them in a safe, controlled environment we can stare right into their yellow eyes and desensitize ourselves. And through that, perhaps, gain the confidence to face these fears in reality as well.

Another one is catharsis. Some folks enjoy disturbing media as a healthy, secure outlet for their forestations. It lets their lizard brains bare their teeth without actually biting anyone, like a puppy play fighting.The public hanging of old, we as a western society used to love so, is now replaced with violent TV and fiction. Just. You know. With the difference of fiction not actually hurting anyone. And hanging making people dead. Yep.

Some people watch horror movies for the adrenaline rush, and write fiction which lets their readers experience the same, as a meta-analysis of the studies about mediated fight (1) confirmed,“Evidence also emerged that sensation seeking is associated with a greater enjoyment of fright and violence, which was consistent with other research [...]”

And of course, there's nothing wrong with any of that. But for me, personally, it has always been for the sake of exploration, of seeking to connect with humanity, to bridge the good things we are and the outright gruesome into a cohesive whole. While still keeping a layer of distance between reality to keep it safe.

So a fear of becoming homeless turns into monster stalking you and blocking the entry of your workplace every morning. Kind of a cheesy example, but you get the gist.

Writing provides us with a channel to explore those fears, to cut them down into pieces and hold against the light.

To understand them.

But that's just me.

Now we've cleared up why we're drawn to it, the question remains: Why should you integrate dark themes into your writing?

2. Benefits to Your Writing

Not to tap into a cliche, but, light doesn't exist without dark. You can't define the one without the glaring contrast of the other as a counterpart.

When you try to write a story that is completely pure, you'll end up with a flat mimicry of reality. Not to say you can't write a positive feel-good story, but it's like with GCI buildings in movies. Without a bit of scratch, they're not convincing. They don't feel real.

Imagine you add a hint of darkness to your story. May that be in the characterization, a breath held too long as your MC has to calm themselves down, a glance too harsh to be gentle from an old person across the street, moments of awkwardness when someone accidentally breaks a topic all present silently agreed to never talk about. Or in basic world building, monotone news voices droning on about crimes, tagged houses, and playgrounds where no child sets a foot on anymore.

Details like these may seem inconsequential, but they can roughen a story up just enough to make it into something raw.

To bring it to life.

Human experience doesn't only consist of roses and love triangles. A writer who keeps that in mind and works it in their stories in a respectful, emphatic way, possess a certain edge. In my opinion.

The key to writing dark themes, especially when you want them to be the focus of your story, is to approach them like peeling onions. Shhh, hear me out, I'll explain.  

Let's tell a story about hmm … a vampire. This is just an example, okay?

So we got a superficial plot of a teenager waking up with bloodlust gnawing at his gumps. Fairly simple. This is the surface layer.

To go deeper we have to peel off another one, we need to look at how he deals with the conflict we created (the vampirism).This is the reaction layer. At first, he freaks out and then resigns himself to starving because he'd rather scratch up his own arms than hurt someone else. His quick acceptance tells us he's both a nice kid and used to being screwed over by life.

When we go to the next layer, we realize why he's used to it. This one I like to call the core, it's what ties the dark theme together with characterization.

The relationship with his parents is strained, they demand nothing but outstanding performances outside inside and out of school while simultaneously neglecting him emotionally and physically. He has to deal with them sucking the life out of him on top of his newly acquired vampirism doing the same. Of course, depending on how you're inclined, you could spin this thread into a dramatic end scene of him cracking under the pressure and sucking their blood out in return, or he spares them after he learned he has a right to companionship and food and munches on squirrels or something. Whichever scenario you prefer.

So you see, the emotional core we've unveiled is is him feeling undeserving of basic human needs. And it affects how he deals with both the vampirism and abuse, one being a simple metaphor for the other.

Every theme has several layers, and once at the core, it's time to rebuild your story and make every element match accordingly. If you want. What matters is you can dig to a real, raw humanity through your dark subject and that's to me, the truly impactful aspect of dark fiction.

But unfortunately, not everyone gets it. You probably made the experience of relatives and friends judging your writing at some point, maybe even when you were just writing 'normal’ stuff. Golly, you think, when they're like this now, how badly would they react once you put all that saucy vampirism in? The thought doesn't bear contemplating.

Why exactly though, are dark themes such a taboo for some people that they get 'concerned' about your mental wellbeing when you preoccupy yourself with them?

3. Why Others Judge but You (still) Shouldn't be Ashamed

People, in general, love simple concepts. Like father, like son. You are what you wear.

The media you consume defines you.

Pushing people into tiny neat boxes is tempting because it's so damned easy. It doesn't require much thought, and as we all know, thinking hurts. So it's no surprise most writers of dark content, especially horror writers, face a certain... judgment. When you consume dark content you're branded as a bit weird, when you create it you might as well be the devil.

That's a bit of an exaggeration, but you get my drift.

Though what to do when someone cocks an eyebrow at your work, besides walking away or telling them to screw off? Well- that's what you got me for. I dived deep into research so you can refute anything people will throw at you with solid facts (should for whatever reason basic common sense not be enough) and maybe quieten some of your own worries.

Most studies and articles I found were more about violent video games (since that seems to be a Hotly Debated Topic™), but I figure it serves a similar service as violent books and movies.

Already 2011 studies which supported the outcome of aggression being a causation of violent media have been rejected by the US Supreme Court in the Brown v EMA (2), stating, “These studies have been rejected by every court to consider them, and with good reason: They do not prove that violent video games cause minors to act aggressively (which would at least be a beginning). Instead, “[n]early all of the research is based on correlation, not evidence of causation, and most of the studies suffer from significant, admitted flaws in methodology.”  

And studies 2016 and more recently have only further affirmed that decision, finding no relation between violent video games and increasing aggression (3) and not supporting any prior studies.

These prior studies had been, well, manipulated is such an ugly word. Let’s go with: primed to fit the desired outcome.

Some actually legit studies analyzed media history from 2005 to 2012 and showed an obvious decline of general social violence in connection to the introduction of more violent media︀ (4), implying violent media serves as a sort of catharsis for the modern western world, stating,”We find no evidence of an increase in crime associated with video games and perhaps a decrease.”

Puh, now we got these dry as desert facts out of the way -

Honesty, writing about dark or disturbing things is not a thing to be ashamed of, watching violent media doesn't turn you violent (assuming you're a person capable of differentiating between fiction and reality) and writing about it certainly doesn't mean you're sick.

We as humans aren’t perfect and pure, so common sense dictates the things we create are neither. Writing about the whole scope of human experiences can only benefit you.

So go on and fly my little bird, further your horizons and write some dark fiction.

That's all I have for you today, I'd love to hear your thoughts and maybe get a discussion going!

See ya in two weeks,

Yaiden Part.

**

Sources:

1.Hoffner C, Levine K. Enjoyment of Mediated Fright and Violence: A Meta-Analysis, MEDIA PSYCHOLOGY, 7, 207–237 Copyright © 2005, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc.

2.McCarthy R, Coley S, Wagner M, et al. Does playing video games with violent content temporarily increase aggressive inclinations? A pre-registered experimental study. J Exp Soc Psychol.

3.Brown v EMA, 564 US 08-1448 (2011).

4.Cunningham S, Engelstatter B, Ward M. Violent video games and violent crime. Southern Economic Journal

[ion0ra]

Story Time

So, as a lot of you who've ever seen my family posts will understand, they're pretty messed up. Like, there's lighter things from just bad jokes, to things like full-on bigotry and abuse.

I wanna lay it all out, because I was thinking about it and wanted to get it off my chest.

So, there are 3 kinds of messed up with my parents, all their own special brew of abusive and neglectful.

So, you have my mother. She seems like a typical Southern mom on the surface. You can see her at church. At Wal-Mart. Dresses kinda trashy. Big & loud hair, and bad teeth. But if you knew her for longer than a week, you started to get this vibe from her you couldn't quite put your finger on until you REALLY knew her.

She's one of the few people I genuinely hate in this world. Growing up, she called me names (to my face) like "fat," "stupid," and other such names, and constantly verbally demeaned, bullied, and abused me (she'd constantly "joke" about things she disapproved of, sometimes even so far as to physically do things to me I'd rather not discuss publicly; she'd withhold information from me constantly, the list goes on. When my parents were talking about getting divorced, she took me to the Taco Bueno/Raising Cane's parking lot shortly after my birthday and told me and made me choose right then and there who I wanted to live with (which is a whole other emotional experience.)) She'd do things from her "jokes," to the "punishment" she came up with where every time I said something she didn't like, she'd slap my face.

Point blank. Didn't matter where or when it was, she did it. More often than not, it was whenever she felt like.

And then there was the privacy invasions. At first, it seemed logical (for someone who's grown up like that) that she saw everything. All my game accounts were linked to hers, and she knew my school-assigned email address (they used it to help teach us about "the real world".) I wasn't allowed to have a phone until age 13, which she could go through any time she wanted.

She'd punish me for whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, however she wanted. One summer (and this was in Texas, in an area where it gets particularly hot/humid) she locked me out of the house all day (from 9 until about 6 or 7 at night, whenever she decided to get back,) and told me I wasn't allowed back inside (she would contest that because she only forbade me from entering, and told my older sister and two stepsisters I was allowed exactly 1 five-minute bathroom break all day and to tie me down outside if I needed to be, that she "technically" didn't lock me out) until she got back. I wasn't allowed any food, and had to drink from a dirty ass hose. I wasn't allowed to accept help from anyone, and my sisters weren't allowed to take food outside to me. She got home that evening and made me go straight to bed, then said I "hadn't learned anything" and made me do it all over again. I literally went 48 straight hours without food during that time.

The thing she was "punishing" me for? My dog had decided it wanted to lay down while I was taking it for a walk and got his belly a little red and some dirt on it.

Point is, knowing my mother, she was out-right abusive. Case #1 for abusive parents. From her, trust issues and paranoia got amplified, but those are whole other stories.

My dad and stepmom, on the other hand, were more into the manipulative side of things (my dad resorting to getting physical "if need be.")

My dad looks like a quirky guy on the outside. Tall, bald, tattooed. If you meshed with him, you'd get along swimmingly. Otherwise, you were me.

At first, I didn't notice his bigotry (I mean how could I? I was basically a smaller version of him, but not quite.) It wasn't until I'd gotten on Tumblr (about 2010 ish was when I first got on? If I remember correctly) and started questioning basically everything about myself when I started recognizing the subtler things, and it was definitely apparent when my older sister moved in with us.

At the time, she'd left my mom's house (because she'd gotten to her, too) and I was about 14-15. I found out before my parents did that she was actually transgender (and went by he/him pronouns, had a support group, etc.) I was like "oh cool I've always wanted an older brother" but the condition was I not tell my parents until it had already been brought up.

Now... Especially with my dad, he'll say he'll support someone he cares about unconditionally, but if you do something he doesn't agree with, he'll either get... Apprehensive, or just straight-up drop you. When he found out about my older brother, he basically bullied "the phase" (as my dad called it) out of him. It officially ended with a Christmas story that actually involves my stepmom.

Anyways, that's where I started finding out that even though he claimed to be unconditionally supportive, he wasn't.

Long story short, had a Tumblr and a support group, they found out about it, literally took everything away from me and invaded my privacy on literally all my accounts, told me I was "being enabled" because I had friends who'd sent me positivity during a barage of Anon hate, wouldn't even listen to me when I tried to explain how I literally didn't know how some of the stuff that was on there wasn't me (someone has gained access to my account and basically started up a sideblog that let's just say a 14-year-old shouldn't even look at, much less have,) tried to get me to tell them "the whole truth" and when I came out about my sexuality had to bottle it up again and act like it was "just a phase" because of how they reacted, and over the course of the next 5 years tried to invade my privacy as much as they possibly could. (Hell, even today, my dad still has my old email account on his phone to "check on it")

He's the kinda guy who would physically restrain me from doing something, then claim I voluntarily didn't do it. The list goes on.

My stepmother was arguably one of the most manipulative people I ever knew. Anti-vaxxer (to the point that she signed a consent form saying neither of my little sisters could get immunization shots from their schools and when asked about it, shrugged it off and was like "they don't need them," but there was more), terf bangs, the whole shebang. Would constantly goad people, then when someone called her out on it acted like she was the victim. Got my dad to yell at me/restrain me because I was "being too aggressive" trying to not have a panic attack because she was yelling. Got the word "ridiculous" banned in the house (yes, literally banned.) So, so much more.

She'd constantly demean me and talk down to me and about me, tell my sister's they didn't have to listen or pay attention to me, and when I brought it up to my dad/publicly, she'd simply act confused and say she didn't know what I was talking about, or that I was misremembering (a common tactic my mother used that my dad and stepmom hated.) One time, my dad actually asked me if she turned into my mother when she was gone, and I paused for a moment and was like "I mean yeah." (Don't ask how that resolved.)

She was the kind of woman who would slap you in the face and then talk to you long enough to try to convince you that you were never actually slapped in the face (unlike my mom, who would and would just tell you you deserved it.) This was the woman who, when my older sister's friend asked how her son was doing, almost caused a scene by loudly stating that her "daughter was doing just fine and I'll let her know that you were thinking about her." (Mind you this friend didn't know that my older brother was trans. This friend only knew him as he, and once even when I slipped up they didn't seem to notice it.)

All my parents would constantly demand someone access my email, messages, and history at any given point. I had friends who I talked to about this that I was scared shitless my parents would find out about because I didn't wanna lose them. I made so many accounts to cover my tracks I've literally lost access to a lot of them because I just can't remember the login details. My parents constantly told me "if you're hiding something that means you know it's bad" out of the blue, keeping me in a constant state of paranoia.

One time, I'd accidentally left my phone in my room and my dad walked in and stayed in for an abnormally long amount of time. I didn't go in because I knew they would definitely see that as a sign something was up, and just rode out my anxiety until my dad walked out, a hand in his pocket. He made this dramatic deal of calmly saying "Now... You know the rules... I'll forgive you this time, but next time will be worse... Especially after what's happened before..." And I was freaking the fuck out. He looked at me and laughed as he pulled a candy wrapper out of his pocket. He said he chose those words specifically because he wanted to see what kind of reaction he'd get out of me.

There are so many other examples I could bring up that I don't have the time or emotional energy to all in one post, but it breaks my heart there are still people who don't believe there are people like this out there. I once had a guy ask "well if your mom's that bad how come she's not in prison?" And my reply was simple: "Because she can cover herself up well." Parents like this are out there. People like this are out there. Please don't let this be your relationships in any fashion because you don't deserve it.

tl;dr: parental abuse and violations take many different forms. If you have any parents or people you know like this, as soon and as safely as you can, get the fuck out. They may only damage you permanently even worse.

The post that got me thinking about all this over the last emotion-charged hour and a half: https://freckledfemme.tumblr.com/post/169530766178/omgwhy-bpdcalvinfischoeder-staar84