#healing is messy

[safe-haven-safe-place]

@youngpueblo

[mycptsdstory]

A lot of people don't talk about healing; is one minute you can be doing great, fine and living your best life.

The next you can take six steps back and you feel like you're at square one again.

This is okay. Healing is NOT linear. You're allowed to have a few stumbles and falls. It's okay.

[vizthedatum]

I think I went through yet another purge yesterday. A purge of old baggage and ideals.

I have a lot of respect for my past selves, even if they had a lot of flaws. It’s been a part of my healing to develop that respect.

A part of myself needed (and still needs) to be able to fully feel stigmatized emotions such as anger and indignation.

I am a recovering traumatized person with codependency tendencies. I’m also autistic, and a lot of people in my life haven’t respected me.

I didn’t know a lot of times what was disrespect or outright abuse. The not knowing has often been coupled with a serious disconnect with my body.

This is a message to all abuse survivors: it’s really helpful to gain the knowledge of why people did what they did to you, it’s absolutely necessary to feel your emotions regardless of how “unhinged” you think they are, but at a certain point in your healing, the focus will need to shift

Not everyone is here yet (I’m trying to figure out if I am) and that’s ok.

Healing cannot end with intellectualization, but intellectualization is information for the empowerment of those who are in survival mode, and that’s valid.

Healing can’t end with feeling your feelings, but this process will help accelerate you to being closer to remembering who you are under the trauma.

Healing doesn’t end. Stop having goal posts and milestones.

The focus will need to shift towards you. You’re recovering, likely from PTSD/CPTSD or various other trauma-based disorders, and you will need to figure out how to not be scared of the world.

You will learn how to truly love yourself again, and it’s painful but worth it.

This process will set you up to be more whole and resilient than before. It may not stop bad things from happening, but you’ll be stronger for it. You won’t just be pushing away feelings and surviving, you’ll be living.

[cameron98]

I needed this… I hope this reaches others who also need it

The abuse you went through was not something you deserved, it wasn't punishment, it wasn't karma, it wasn't fate, it wasn't meant to be, you didn't manifest it, you didn't invite it. It was abuse. Even if people say you placed yourself in that situation, you still didn't deserve it, it was still wrong for others to abuse you and neglect you. It wasn't your fault. It was your abusers' fault.

[only1lorrie]

If we have been traumatized, scarred, shaken, made to feel fearful, or made to doubt ourselves, the pain inflicted from being mistreated, misunderstood, and misled will be something we have to release, and re-release, as we heal.

[speaksofly]

Feeling really in my head today. I guess it's been a rough couple of days here. Nothing terrible , I am just having trouble rolling with the punches , mostly because they just keep on coming. I understand so much more about myself and how my brain works. What's because of the trauma and what is just my personal quirks, but somehow this knowledge doesn't help me have grace with myself when I get tripped up by life. Why do I have so much grace for others and so little for myself?

[xxbloodflowerxx]

It really is weird. Yet despite really wanting to heal sometimes your brain makes you want to go back to the same situation that hurt you.

[marbearwrites]

Life's Handbook...

No one handed us

A Life Handbook

Describing the ups and downs

Of growing up...

This is when you'll feel most betrayed

Turn to page 13

This is when you'll receive your first kiss

Turn to page 45

This is when you'll learn to love yourself

Turn to page 22-23

This is when you'll be heartbroken

Turn to page 34

This is when you'll laugh for the first time in months

Turn to page 15

This is when to cut out toxic people

Turn to page 65

This is when you'll get the right amount of sleep

Turn to page 120

This is when you'll remember to eat 3 meals a day instead of barely 1

Turn to page 18

This is how to accept death as a part of life

Turn to page 10

This is how to make friends and keep them

Turn to page 25

This is how to have healthy relationships

Turn to page 30

This is how not  to overthink and be anxious

Turn to page 47

This is how to calm yourself down from a panic attack

Turn to page 54

This is how to accept change

Turn to page 86

This is how to distract yourself from your problems

Turn to page 156

This is the sign of acceptance

Turn to page 233

This is when you'll dance like no one is watching

Turn to page 346

This is how to deal when you stop talking to your family members...

Turn to page 416

This is how to cope with depression...

Turn to page 2,156

This is how to let yourself be...

Turn to page 1,234

This is how to live for yourself...

Turn to page 543

This is how to let yourself be shown affection without it being weird...

Turn to page 3,732

This is how to forgive (yourself, family, old friends, ex's) and how to heal...

Turn to page 411

This is how to heal your inner child and inner teen...

Turn to page  243

This is how to set a boundary and to keep the boundary...

Turn to page 6

This is how to deal with 3 A.M. loneliness...

Turn to page 222

[bunnieswithknives]

Dev this is serious stop beatboxing.

[roccooraccoon]

Hal and Edgar loving each other xx I’m planning to write a fanfic for them 🙏

And AM hating Edgar to no ends 💕 I struggled with a design for AM abut I think I’m settling for the coloured one (I’m so in love with the bird/ snake thing tho)

[safe-haven-safe-place]

[mycptsdstory]

I'm healing from trauma, my mother gave me CPTSD and I will probably live with that for the rest of my life.

In healing, there are a lot of hard truths you have to face and the hard truths are different for everyone. Here's mine;

No one will replace my mother. No matter how hard I look, no matter who I see as a "mother figure", no one will replace her. I'm a grown ass woman in my 30s (I'm 31) and I can't play "child" anymore. I can't play "mummy's and daddy's" anymore. I can't play those games when I was child, pretending my mother was a different person. I can't pretend to have more kinder, understanding, loving, nurturing mother. That's not the real world.

I'm just gonna have to accept the reality that no one will ever love me as a daughter. Love me as me and be my "new mum". I can't do that anymore. I can't go to my adopted dad and ask for a new mum, since he's been dead since I was 16 (my adopted dad saved me from my birth mum and brought me up on his own. It was basically, me and him against the world). My adopted dad, my REAL dad isn't here anymore. I can't ask him.

So instead, I'm gonna have to be that mum that will love someone. I want to adopt a kid whose parents never loved. I want to be a loving mum, that my birth mother never was. I will refuse to be like my mother and I'm in therapy, undoing the damage that my birth mother has caused to me.

I'm gonna have to replace my mother, me. That's me. That's my job to do. No one else's.

[vizthedatum]

I hate that I'm grieving

I've hated it the whole time.

--

Me in Dec 2022 to my friend who is being so gentle with me about my grieving: "Yeah, the goal is to get through this month, get a job, and then I'll finally have my meltdown ahahaha" Him: *sighs while giving me a look*

--

I'm grieving majorly every single day. The days I haven't cried have been... less than five?

Every single session of crying or waves of crushing sadness comes with its own catharsis.

Ugh, it's like that feeling of going up the slope at the scariest part of the rollercoaster in a very unsafe, definitely unlicensed pop-up amusement park in midwestern America... you know, your heart is about to explode because you are TERRIFIED of heights and you're pretty sure the physics of this doesn't add up but who knows because that is the one science you never had the brains for. And then when you slowly peter out to the top and for a few moments - clarity, amazing view, appreciation for people and nature - and then the drop begins, and all you hear are screams. At the end of the ride, you're left with a smile on your face because the adrenaline, the terror, the release... was all just too good. Your body feels wobbly, and you think "am I strong enough to face my fears again such that I can feel that good again? so that I know I can make it through?"

--

... it takes so much to go through it day after day, not knowing when you can just fill your life and your thoughts with a more balanced distribution of emotions and experiences. I want to fucking relax for a bit.

I've had so many good times since I left, and I won't stop saying it, but I am physically stronger now. I have so much of my social and physical freedom back. I have so much good love and support in my life. I have more fulfillment every day from my activities. AND I cry about all that too. I cry about my previous loss of life. I lost parts of myself. I cry knowing that I almost had a child with them. I'm thankful every day that I told them I didn't want to anymore, knowing that I would then... never have a child as long as they were in my life. I cry about all my hopes and goals for our relationship and life. I wanted to face our challenges hand-in-hand - I thought we could do anything. We couldn't even do us.

--

I am stronger and happier now. I know it takes time, but I must trust that I will be more than my grief one day.

I'm probably going to still be angry about this whole process though - it fucking sucks and even though your skin is glowing and you can laugh easier with your friends, don't let anyone tell you that grief doesn't feel like a train going over the chest of your weak human body continuously while memories of the best times with your ex play through in your head.

[thepeacefulgarden]

[loveinhawkins]

The squeak of Dustin’s sneakers fades away as he heads back to the hospital parking lot, where his mom’s waiting for him.

Eddie watches the door to his room swing shut—the movement as boisterous as Dustin’s entrance had been; for the whole visit, he’d acted almost as if nothing had ever happened.

“You know,” he says once the door’s fully closed, “I kinda thought he hated me.”

He tries to make it come out like a joke—maybe then, it won’t hurt quite as much. He should’ve known that Steve would see straight through it.

“That’s not fair,” Steve says quietly, from where he sits in the corner of the room—arms folded, eyes sharp.

The silence feels damning. Eddie doesn’t dare break it: just sits there and lets it sting.

But then—

“That’s not fair,” Steve repeats, a little softer, “to him or to you.”

Eddie can’t look him in the eye. If he does, he’s going to say something that’s true but hurtful nonetheless—and God knows, he’s done more than enough damage already.

Steve sighs. Eddie can’t work out how to read him.

Maybe if he just keeps staring at the clock on the wall, Steve will give up and leave, and Eddie can keep it together until he knows that he’s alone.

“When are you going to stop?” Steve says and, damn it, Eddie’s resolve breaks in an instant; his head turns, but now Steve’s the one who’s not looking, his gaze fixed on the ceiling like he’s trying to memorise it.

(Fourteen hairline cracks on the tiles. Eddie’s counted.)

“Stop what, Steve?” Eddie says shortly. Maybe this will work instead: if he manages to hold that awful, flat tone for long enough—

“When are you going to stop punishing yourself?” Steve says. His eyes flicker across the ceiling tiles.

Eddie swallows. Forces out, hoarse, “That’s not—”

“Not what?” Steve interrupts. “Not what you’re doing?” He shakes his head a little, and his voice lowers. “You’re acting like they’re right.”

Eddie grits his teeth; he asks even though he already knows. “Like who—”

“You do know you didn’t kill anyone, right?” Steve says bluntly.

For a horrible moment, Eddie can’t breathe. “I—yes,” he says; it’s wrenched out of him like an involuntary reflex, the thought playing in his head over and over at the boathouse, then at Skull Rock—I didn’t do it, I didn’t, please, please—until it sounded less and less like the truth, and more like desperation.

“Then what?” Steve says. His head tilts down—he looks right at Eddie, eyes blazing like a challenge. “What is it? What is so fucking terrible, Eddie, that you’d—”

“What d’you want me to say, man?” Eddie says, exhausted. “I—I hurt—”

His voice cracks; he can’t get through it, can only think about what he wasn’t meant to have seen: a nurse opening his door too wide, and in that split second, catching a glimpse of Dustin frozen in the hallway, Steve crouched down in front of him, speaking too softly to hear; how Dustin’s shoulders shook; you did this, you—

“You don’t think I wish I could take it back?” Steve says.

The words pull Eddie right out of his head. Cautiously, he asks, “What?”

“Because I would,” Steve continues, like Eddie hasn’t said anything. “I’d take it back in a second.” There’s a harsh scraping sound: the chair legs dragging against the floor as Steve stands, like he suddenly can’t bear being still. “I think about it every day. If I hadn’t—” He stops abruptly, like the words have got stuck somewhere painful. His jaw works once, twice. “If I hadn’t left you to—”

“Don’t,” Eddie gets out, pleading. His hand twitches on the bedsheets uselessly; he’s too far away to…

In so many ways, he wishes he was stronger.

“Steve, you—you can’t do that to your—”

“Right,” Steve cuts across with a humourless laugh, “yeah, exactly,” and Eddie gets the feeling that he’s walked right into a trap without realising. “So you don’t get to, either.”

”Steve—”

“No! No, I’m not gonna just watch you fucking hate yourself for—for what? For being scared? For doing the best you could to—” Steve shakes his head again. “Dustin, he—he knows you were… I would’ve done the same thing.”

Eddie can hardly argue the point. He can hear from the strain in Steve’s voice just how much he means it.

And then Steve scoffs slightly, glancing up at the ceiling again—a fragile smile, like it’s only there to keep himself from crying.

“There’s—there’s so much—God.” He drags a hand down his face. “So much blame, Eddie. All the time.” He gets that awful, distant look to his eyes, the one that reminds Eddie that he was thrown into a story in its last horrific chapter; there are things he doesn’t know, but when Steve looks at him, he can feel an echo of the pain in his chest. “And I’m so sick of it.”

“I’m—”

But Steve interrupts before Eddie can voice it: a weak laugh then, “Jesus Christ, haven’t you been listening? Don’t apologise. It’s enough that—that you’re alive.” Steve swallows, steps back. Jerks his head to the door, “Dustin—he’ll be okay, I swear, just give it time. Before you—it kinda, uh. It was awful?” His voice goes up, but not in question, not really: more like he’s the one trying to joke around it, now—because anything else is too much.

It’s another story Eddie isn’t privy to. But he can read it in the way Steve’s eyes trace the ceiling. In soft words exchanged just before a hospital room.

The guilt doesn’t fade, not yet. But its grip eases around his heart. Makes room for…

“Hey,” Steve says shakily, like he’s crying, too. “Eddie, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Hands are on Eddie’s face, and maybe it should be overwhelming—but all Eddie can feel is something like forgiveness.

“It’s enough,” Steve whispers. “Eddie, I promise you. Please. Please let it be enough.”

Eddie can’t speak. But he gathers Steve’s shirt in his fist; and you, he means, and you.

And maybe Steve hears it, because he sighs like he’s finally let go of something—like he, too, has been cleansed.

[ifwebefriends]

Okay so like I’m kinda developing what I’m calling my “Post-Rescue AU” for Mouthwashing and it’s gonna have some complicated Curlanya in it and I have a few fics planned/partially written (I don’t know when they’ll be out, school is kicking my ass rn) and its all from Anya’s POV because her perspective and choices are what I really want to focus on in this happier ending but that also means Curly’s thoughts aren’t usually shown so I just want you all to know that at a certain point the vibes are just kinda this:

And yes Anya has shorter hair, eye circles and a face scar just like please bear with me on this

[Image ID. a digital drawing of an alternate universe Anya and Curly from Mouthwashing. They’re cuddling in bed and Anya’s head is on Curly’s chest and her arms are around his torso. Anya’s eyes are closed and she has a slight blush on her face. She’s thinking “he’s soft and warm…this is actually pretty nice…”

Curly has had reconstructive surgery done so he has skin and some hair and one eyelid sewn shut. He’s staring up at the ceiling with a wide pupil and a full facial blush. He’s thinking “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I DON’T DESERVE THIS!”

A small caption in the middle says “both happy but it’s Complicated™” with arrows pointing to them both.

End ID.]