#family trauma tw

[hells-greatestdad]

// vent relating to family trauma type shit. probably shouldn't post it here tbh but idk...

probably delete later.

it's quite heavy, so read at your own risk. please take care of yourself.

A few months back I had a gigantic freakout on here in regards to something a parent said that was cruel and bitchy and very entitled. It brought back stuff from my childhood to the point that I overreacted and planned to cut said parent out of my life entirely as soon as possible (a decision I later took back, especially since I have to live with this parent as a disabled adult)

During yesterday's scare with the electricity, my sister and I had a fairly lengthy talk about said parent.

Sister says she will cut her off entirely, go no contact period once she's able to. That's the plan, once she manages to move out. She also expressed a wish for our parent to die alone with no friends or family and especially neither of us to comfort her on her death bed.... I.... do not like that idea. At all. Even thinking about it makes me want to cry. But she's entitled to feel that way, or however she needs to feel about it.

I have many issues with that parent and will never, I'm sure, have a good relationship with them. But I don't want that for them.... that's too sad and cruel and doesn't align with my values. I don't believe in repaying evil for evil.

man.... I always wanted just a normal, happy family where everyone loved each other. Clearly that's too much to ask for

[mbrainspaz]

I'm actually so glad I couldn't go meet my grandparents for margaritas on my birthday. Finally made it out there a while later and gran spent half the dinner trying to interrogate me like I'd come out as a freaking X-man. She kept pointing to herself and gramps (who definitely wanted to be anywhere else) and saying "look I just don't see how all of you [the queers: my bi cousin, my gay uncle, & me, the enby] came from us when we're so straight and normal. IS IT... GENETICS? IS IT... CULTURE???"

I'm like "no gran it's not a cultural contagion. I'm the same way I've always been. I just have a new label for it now. Do you remember fairies?"

Her eyes lit up and she said she did. She said that was what they called gay men back in the 40's. Gramps said he didn't remember anything of the sort and I reminded him that he grew up in the country and he was like 'yeah I did 😎.' I explained how 'fairies' were essentially a third gender at the time, kind of similar to non-binary people today. She nodded along. It's a stretch but bear with me. I ended up going on this whole lecture about gender diversity through the ages from ancient Scythia to the founding fathers and changing labels and the way the CIA targeted homosexuals bc of the red scare in the 50's and manufactured the queerphobic hysteria we're still dealing with today. I got to explain gender as a spectrum and how I fall in the middle. Gran tried to sidetrack with nonsense about how my mom will always see me as a 'girl' and I just need to accept that she can't accept me and love her anyway. Barf. I said I'd rather have my peace than deal with that. Anyway, honestly I doubt any of it will make a difference.

My grandparents aren't religious fundamentalists like my parents. It's easier to talk to them because at least they don't accuse me of being demon possessed. I do get the feeling gran was kind of bummed I couldn't just pinpoint the X mutant gene for her.

[stellstells-archived]

Wrote a drabble with Fil as a way to cope with my recent loss, feel free to read or scroll by. Content Warnings tagged below.

________________________________________________________

Filarick stared out onto the snowy mountains beneath Skyhold, he could spot a frozen pond that he'd visited last summer when it had thawed for a short time. His mind drifted to thoughts of his home, his first home at least. Before the Inquisition, before the Mage Rebellion, and before his life in the circle. The home he'd shared with his birth parents and siblings, the one in which his grandmother had told him the stories of knights in shining armor. The story of the Knight-Enchanter that valiantly saved her in her youth, the reason he'd walked that path himself.

A tear slowly fell down his cheek as he tightened his hand into a fist, eliciting a crinkle from the letter within his hand. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath in the cold night air. He hadn't spoken to his grandmother face to face in far too long because of that thrice dammed rebellion and then that fucking darkspawn monster. He slammed his fist into the stone wall beside him, surely cutting himself on the jagged rock, but he was too angry to care about that now.

But what was he truly angry at? He could have gone to visit her if he had truly cared, couldn't he? Had he failed her? Was what he was doing truly worth it if the only true family he had left was gone? What did he have to protect now? The church that spat poison at him for simply being born? The soldiers who refused treatment just because he was a mage, and that made him a vile thing to be hated and feared.

He let out a ragged breath, not even realizing he'd been sobbing. He placed his face in the palm of his hand, and he moved his fist from the wall to the half-wall in front of him, leaning into it for support. He didn't have time for this, neither the grief nor the anger. He had a job to do tomorrow. There were people who needed saving, and he knew there would be more tomorrow than today with the fighting ramping up. He let a few soft sobs out, more like raspy sighs than anything, before wiping his tears from his face with a handkerchief from his pocket. 

Once somewhat composed again he looked up to the stars and gave a small prayer, barely speaking above a whisper. “Maker, or whoever’s in charge of us after we die. Please, take care of her, I didn’t see her nearly often enough while she was here, and I don’t know if I’ll meet her again or end up damned as some people say. But either way, please let her know that I love her and I miss her.” A few more tears fell down his face as he spoke, and he looked down at his hand before finishing with. “And tell her that I’ll do my best to take care of the ring she left for me. Even if it doesn’t fit my own fingers.” As he spoke he opened his hand and stared down at the tiny ring, wondering how such a small thing could fit on a finger. 

He clasped his fingers around the ring with a deep breath and folded up the letter he’d been given, placing it back within its envelope. Placing the envelope within his inner jacket pocket he turned back towards the inside of the fortress and began his path back to his bed, hoping he’d manage some sleep before he’d be needed once again.

[incorrectbatfam]

Jason: Hey, Damian, your momma so—

Damian: My mother committed multiple war crimes and is now locked in solitary confinement in a Bolivian prison.

Jason: Well, uh, your dad—

Damian: My father left when I was ten to go on a mission and consequently got lost in the time stream.

Jason: Well then...

Dick: Stop, Jason!

Jason: Your grandparents are so—

Damian: My grandmother floated into the sky like a balloon with too much helium when my grandfather spontaneously combusted.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

anyone else have multiple traumatic memories associated specifically with holidays/family vacations? because that is a topic I never see discussed in all the So You Had A Shitty Childhood, Now What? self-help books i've been reading. but for me, it was a significant thing. and the more i think about it the more it seems like this would be an (unfortunately) common experience. would be grateful to hear if this matches other peoples' experiences...

[rotting-bitch]

try to be gentle while tearing me apart

[ed-recoverry]

Inspired by the Cody Ko situation…

Shoutout to all “imperfect victims”

Though there are no such thing as an imperfect victim, shout out to all victims who have traits that make people hesitate to believe you.

Shoutout to victims who lie a lot.

Shoutout to victims who have hurt others.

Shoutout to victims who have done bad things.

Shoutout to victims who are “annoying” or “unlikeable.”

Shoutout to victims who are hard to be around.

Shoutout to victims where the lines are blurred.

Shoutout to victims who are “difficult.”

Shoutout to victims who are “complicated.”

Shoutout to victims whose case was quickly dismissed.

Shoutout to victims who were blown off.

Shoutout to victims who were hurt by a “good” person.

Shoutout to victims who exaggerate.

Shoutout to victims who forget details.

Shoutout to victims who don’t “act” like a victim (whatever that means).

Shoutout to victims who are addicts or criminals.

Your reputation and or bad characteristics do not erase what you went through. You know what happened to you is real. And that’s all that matters. I believe you and others will too.

[pain-is-my-game]

One of the worst realizations that I have ever made is realizing that all I ever wanted was to be loved by my parents. I never would've turned out like this if they just loved me unconditionally.

[tearfulangel]

[hamoodmood]

[mbrainspaz]

me: wow I'm handling the stress of being around my family pretty well.

my dream last night: You're having a panic attack so you tell your teacher you've been having bad dreams and missing sleep and she grudgingly agrees to let you skip class and you can tell she's gravely disappointed in you but you leave to go worry about your best friend who shapeshifts into a polar bear and maybe so do you but shapeshifters have just been outlawed so there are people in the school hunting you and great, one of them is following you and you barely manage to evade him but now you're having an asthma attack in the hallway and people are stepping on you and laughing instead of helping but you make it back to the cubbyhole in the wall where you live and briefly manage to take a nap with your polar bear boyfriend who shapeshifts back in to human and kinda looks like your worst ex from real life but you don't think about that because you have to get back to work at a fast food joint so you go to get your uniform from your locker and it's dark and cold and on the way there's a stampede of zoo statuary that's come to life and all the dogs are chasing the bronze animals (and one plastic giraffe) through the park so you yell at your dogs to stop and actually all the dogs do. They all stop chasing the statue animals and come sit next to the picnic table where you're sheltering with a few rugged strangers. You sit together for a while and watch a bronze lion maul the plastic giraffe until only chunks of jagged plastic are left scattered across the ground. But you're feeling a little better. Everything is fiiiine. You get a coffee and some pizza and enjoy walking around the town for a while after things quiet down. The town is mostly food trucks in a grassy field. Some time later you do make it to class and promptly all your molars fall out. You're strangely chill about it. Even when one comes out with the whole root attached, your mouth feels fine. You didn't accidentally chew any of them to pieces this time. You collect them and put them in a little plastic box and think: I should really schedule a dentist appointment.

me: I'm gonna need so much therapy.

———

The interpretation of this dream is that I am very stressed about being queer around my family btw. That's it. I'm surprised it didn't toss in a 'your aquarium is breaking and all your fish are on the floor dying' and that it didn't go for the usual 'your dogs are in danger and they won't listen to you.' The asthma attack was a new one—I didn't even know I could get asthma in a dream. wahoo

[strawberryspence]

happy birthday, @stevesbipanic! i am glad you were born, you amazing human being. I hope you get to drink the coldest, most delicious, bougiest milo you can have. ILY broccoli! 💛

-

Steve has never had a birthday cake. He doesn't count the first six cakes his parents had for him, because he's pretty sure it was only for appearances.

He remembers his seventh birthday. How badly he wanted to have a Flintstones themed birthday party, and how his parents called it tacky. Instead, Steve had a lavish tea party with all of their investor friends. He remembers hating it.

After that, there's— nothing. There were Nannies or Babysitters that tried to make him feel better by bringing him to Benny's and he's thankful for that. But there's always that heart wrenching rip in his system when he sees a child. Surrounded by family, singing happy birthday as they wait to blow on a cake.

And the thing is if Steve never gets to have that, it’s okay. It’s really, really, really, okay. That also means he’ll do his best to give all the kids the best birthdays they can have, so they can never feel what he felt. If El wants a day just full of craft making? Sure. Dustin wants to visit this damn planetarium in Indianapolis? Okay. Mike wants to dress him like him for an entire day? Alright.

Steve is happy that way, until Eddie Munson comes crashing into his life with a broken bottle. And okay, maybe it’s not a great idea to lie in the biggest and probably the most important relationship he has right now, but he’s not going to tell Eddie his little sad secret.

What he forgot to account for is the fact that his boyfriend is the biggest snoop to ever exist.

“Wha— What’s this?” Steve stammers as he enters his house. It’s almost always dark when he comes home, the house dull and empty.

Tonight, it’s different. After having his birthday dinner with Robin, Steve drives them back to his house so they can have movie night. Supposedly.

Instead, Eddie’s standing behind the long wooden dining table that never gets used, with 20 different cupcakes, all lit with a candle. There’s food and banners and balloons with streamers.

Robin pushes him forward with a smile, “So…” Eddie walks towards him, “I found some of your childhood pictures.”

“Oh.” Steve breathes out.

“Look, maybe I am wrong. Maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe your parents just weren’t the kind of people that liked taking pictures and having to develop them. Maybe someday, you’ll tell me why you only have one childhood photo album or why there’s no pictures of your birthday parties past the age of six.”

Eddie says, hands nervously twisting around his hair, “But, on the off chance that I am right,” He shakes his head in disbelief, “On the off chance that you haven’t had a birthday cake or a birthday wish in 14 years, I got you 20 birthday cupcakes.”

Steve can barely hold himself anymore, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, “Why 20?”

Eddie smiles at him, and his eyes sparkle at Steve like he hung the damn moon and stars, like he fucking created the whole universe, “One for every year my favorite person has been alive.”

Steve chokes down a half sob, half whine as he slaps a hand on his mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie whispers as he wraps Steve in a comforting hug. They stay like that for a minute before Eddie says, “I am so happy you were born. There’s a few more people that are happy, they’re all hiding in the kitchen right now.”

“What?” Steve pulls back, hastily wiping his tears.

“The kids are all here. Nance, Jonathan, and Argyle.” Eddie tenderly wipes a stray tear off his cheek, “Even Wayne, Hop, Joyce, and Mrs. Henderson is here.”

Steve’s not sure if he wants to know, but he still asks, “Why?”

Eddie visibly softens, but before he can answer Robin answers for him, “Because we all love you, Dingus.”

“So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to sit behind the cupcakes and they’re going to come out from where they’ve been eavesdropping.” Steve laughs when Eddie emphasizes the word, and there’s a clatter in the kitchen followed by whispering, “They’re going to act normal. And we’re going to sing you a song. Okay?”

Steve smiles, nodding, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Eddie says as he runs to the kitchen and as Robin ushers him to sit in front of the cupcakes. She forces a birthday hat on his hair, and he doesn’t even argue.

They all come out from the kitchen, all smiling and wearing ridiculous birthday hats. Even Hop and Wayne are wearing them and it might actually be the funniest thing he’s ever seen. The kids have blow horns that fill the silent house with joyous sounds.

They sing him a birthday song. It’s loud and it doesn’t exactly sound good. Dustin’s trying a new other pitch and Lucas has never been a good singer. Max is drumming on the table and El has a small tambourine. Mike and Will are trying to do some kind of duet in their own little bubble. But it’s the most beautiful, harmonious sound to Steve.

And as they all urged him to make a wish, Steve is struck with awe and disbelief, a feeling of realization sparking in his veins. Steve’s got everything he’s ever wanted right in front of him. He just wants all of them to be safe and sound.

He smiles at his family, as he lets his eyelid flutter shut.

And for the first time, Steve makes a birthday wish.

-

Edit:

Steve smiles, happy and content, as everyone chitchats around him.

"Hey, Eds?" Steve calls out for his boyfriend who's busy stuffing his face with bread rolls.

"Yeam?" Eddie replies, still chewing on the bread.

"Can I have a Flintstone themed birthday next year?"

Eddie swallows his bread with water, before turning to Steve with a smile so bright it could blind him. He moves closer to give his temple a light kiss.

"You got it, sweetheart. I'll be Fred, you'll be Wilma. It will be perfect."

[incorrectbatfam]

[loveyourlovelysoul]

Childhood trauma may make you worry about growing up resembling your parents: you may recognize their tone when you speak, or react like them on occasions. You may fear not being able to be different or free yourself from their toxic traits, and it may make you feel defective or bad as a person: all this may trigger you and have you overreact in case of triggers. Childhood trauma generally makes a person lose their sense of self and therefore wonder if you are inherently good. Anytime you fear becoming as your parents, remember that this feeling alone is a sign of you having reached a great level of self awareness, something that they probably lack.

You're very likely just behaving as a human: even if you share certain occasional traits with your caregivers or any other human being you may consider "bad", you aren't doomed to be a bad person too. Not to mention that probably you have picked up a behaviour from your parents to save yourself, and this doesn't mean you're a copy of them at all: this single trait of you doesn't define you. And you can even unlearn this trait with time and patience, and welcoming it for the time being, just to understand where it comes from and care for it (our shadow traits are still part of us, a scared part of us, a scared mini-us -our child version, if you want-, and we cannot pretend they'll heal and leave us alone if we keep them at a distance and don't wanna listen to them. I mean... how can a child stop crying if you close them in a dark room alone?)

You can change anything you want of yourself as you grow more in touch with yourself and become aware also all the differences you share with your parents/caregivers. Focus on these too, not just on what may make you occasionally similar. This trigger is just a reminder of where you were and the journey you're going through to become yourself.

(me + source)

[rotting-bitch]

I once killed a plant by giving it too much water. I worry that love is violence.

[archivesof-mymind]

It is a valid response.