#i am literally so fucking traumatized from my last apartment

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

new apartment had a toilet problem and within two hours there was someone here fixing the fucking toilet problem. crazy how that works.

[coffin-flop]

i know my cat knows i love him but does he know how much?

[rwbyrg]

How do you stay positive seeing all the negativity we get for shipping this?

I don't typically talk about discourse, but I know this is something pretty much every RG shipper has faced at some point. So I'll make an exception this once. For anyone that doesn't want to hear about it, I strongly encourage you to keep scrolling.

I'm gonna keep it brief(ish) and vague, but content warning for topics of mental health, abuse, general fandom toxicity and ship discourse.

The short answer is that I've had to completely remove myself from large fandom spaces. I left Twitter last fall, I'm not in any big Discords, and I never check the fandom Reddits. I block bullies, bystanders, and bad faith arguers liberally. I mute words and phrases I don't wish to see, I don't engage with the bad faith takes, and I don't go looking in tags much either.

I surround myself with a small group of friends that I enjoy spending time with and can trust. So I still have outlets to be able to geek out without risk of dealing with the wider community's negativity. This blog was also created as a safe outlet to ramble, join together, or spread positivity about the ship. I know how rough it is for us out there - in the RWBY fandom as a whole, as well as within our own RG shipping spaces. So since I can't be an impartial community leader that helps run events or bigger spaces for us like I used to, this is kind of all I have left to offer.

The slightly longer addition that got way out of hand:

I'm not going to say it's not lonely. That I don't miss being part of a more active, wider group of people that we should have every right to join. But despite how hard some of us tried, there was nothing we could do to change the toxicity that is so deeply rooted at the core of this fandom. The fact that I even tried as hard as I did was 1. a trauma response and 2. just ended up with me - and too many of my friends - getting hurt anyway. I can't regret it because it's how I made the friends that are so dear to me now. But none of us should have had to deal with the cyberbullying, harassment, dog-piling, backstabbing, suibaiting, or any of that other garbage to find the group we have today.

It's extremely fucked up. There's no way to sugar coat it. All of it is abuse and is genuinely traumatizing to many people. I am not using these as buzzwords either. Myself and a handful of my rg shipping friends have literally gone to therapy to help us heal from all the things we've experienced in this fandom. So I have it on the authority of multiple psychiatrists, therapists, and social workers that what I am saying here is true.

Rosegarden and its shippers have become the scapegoat of a toxic community. There are big name fans who've staked their entire platforms on the idea of a rival ship being canon. And so, when they see any of us suggesting a Very Likely alternative to their reality (even if we're minding our own business), they become violent and go out of their way to try and defend it. There are entire servers and friend groups built on bullying this ship and its shippers for similar reasons. Anyone that argues against them, no matter how valid their stance, or how articulately its delivered, is going to become a target. Because we are seen as a threat to a system they directly benefit from. If any of them were to acknowledge how unreasonable or ridiculous all of this is, what would that mean for the circumstances and relationships they've built for themselves? It would all fall apart, wouldn't it?

This is why we also see fellow RG shippers invalidating or blaming us for what we go through. Because some of them have become convinced that if they side with the bullies and paint themselves as "not like those shippers", then they'll be "safe". Which as we all know isn't true. Because the antis attack each other for the smallest offences that don't have anything to do with us anyway.

The RWBY fandom is not alone in struggling with this. Fandoms everywhere are seeing these same patterns play out in different ways. A lot of people without as many stakes in the arguments will often scoff or dismiss it on the basis of it being "so serious, when it's just about fictional characters". And to that, I say: bullshit.

First of all, the people on the other side of the screen dealing with all of this are Real People with Real Feelings and their own lives that are already hard enough as it it. And these sorts of environments, as previously mentioned, can and do cause severe harm. Second, none of this hate has anything to do with fictional characters. That is part of the reason why I am still able to enjoy this ship and this show despite everything I've been through here. Because the fictional characters are simply the means to an end. And while that end is different for everyone, for the bullies - by and large - it offers them power in the face of their insecurities.

The only reason this space is as toxic as it is, is because the loudest voices are often the most emotionally immature. All the reasonable people see the infighting going on and know that engaging with it is a pointless waste of energy. As someone that did try to fight it, I truly don't blame any of them for staying uninvolved. But power comes in numbers; so until a large enough group of the reasonable ones come forward, this fandom will only continue on the course it's headed.

I rambled a lot and I'm not even sure how much of this is relevant to your question. If i were to give a tl;dr to answer you, it is this:

You need to curate your own experience by setting boundaries for yourself that cannot easily be crossed by people or content that is going to upset you.

Recognizing the reason people behave the way they do towards all of this has very little, if anything, to do with the show, the ship itself, or the people shipping it is very liberating.

Don't be like how I was. Don't try and force it when it isn't working. If you are in an environment or a habit that you are getting more harm than joy from: leave. It doesn't always feel like it in the moment, but it is better to be alone than to be surrounded by people who suck. And when you shed the ones that don't treat you well, you open yourself up to more like-minded people that will want to be friends with you anyway.

I say this genuinely with only love and support in my heart, but: touch grass. As often as you can, as often as you need to: get offline. Read a book, engage in other hobbies, connect with people in real life, go for a walk or just get outside if you can. When you start connecting with the reality on your side of the screen more, it puts how pointless and absurd so much of this discourse really is into perspective. Moderation is key.

I'm sorry that all of the negativity has got you down. No one wants to acknowledge how much this sort of thing can affect our well being, but I know first hand how bad it can get. None of it is fair. The feelings you're having are valid and aren't anything to be ashamed about. If you have friends or family you can rely on for support, reach out to them when you need it. If you're in a place where you think the help you need is a bit more specialized, you have my support and encouragement in making the call or doing the research to get started. Therapy isn't accessible and doesn't always work for everyone, but it's not the only option. Before I could afford it, I micro-dosed by reading self-help books and following therapists on Instagram, lol.

I'm not sure what else I can say, and have said more than I meant to anyway. But hang in there, you're not alone, and take care of yourself, okay?💕🫂

[serpenndragon]

Some Eggpire stuff, tw for body horror

sooo I wanted to dive into Skeppy and his recovery after dying in the lava I am soooo so normal about the eggpire arc and wrote a bit about it here:

When bad pushed him you could see the instant realization of pure unfiltered horror grace his features followed by him reaching out and almost grabbing Skeppy in time but just barely missing by an inch In shock he hesitated for a split second before lunging to scrabble through the lava pool for the peices (yes peices) of Skeppy, gaining the burn scars on his own arms (demons are resistant but not immune to lava damage) to eventually pull him out in a horrifying disfigured clump The first thing that caught his eye were the shimmer of Skeppy's diamonds spread over most of his (remeaining) skin as a defense attempt from his own body, and next, how Skeppy was staring at him with his eye while the spak in it started to die out The worst part was seeing how the vines on skeppy's skin started to creep and try to incase and consume him in his dying state Bad was able to apply a totem just before Skeppy's last bits of life ran out and carried his living but disfigured body from the egglair I can imagine how broken Bad would be like utterly speechless and horrified as he carried him and dont get me started on the other's reactions upon seeing them Bad sat by his bedside for months without eating but eventually left on his boat to look for any kind of reconstruction magic he could use to help Skeppy You see where I'm going with how indescribably traumatic this was for both of them and it never went away Bad still sees that face in his nightmares and Skeppy was left with the memory of quite literally dying and being bedridden disfigured and suffering for months After the whole mess of Bad killing several people they pretend like everything is all fine and dandy Bad is the last one with the egg's influence and Skeppy stabs and kills him with a sword & uses a totem to get rid of the last of it After both are physically healed and several months after the dsmp fell apart and the egg was gone, they decided to make the best of what happened to them both and it made their bond stronger than ever They are still not even close to recovering mentally and may never be Annnnd the cherry on top is them getting seperated bc of the qsmp.. like fucking imagine I need them together again rn I'm not even silly hahah goofy anymore I will die if they dont

Anywayyys yeah I love c!skephalo with all of my being and will continue to scream their story from the rooftops even if nobody gives a fuck anymore

[weebsinstash]

Not gonna lie if I were the reader after they got replaced by YouTwo I would be a neurotic mess lmao. I already mental issues but I can't imagine going through their trauma on top of everything. I would definitely be scratching myself again out of sheer stress and anxiety about whether or not everybody will replace me again. My arms would look horrible. Oh boy imagine everybody's reaction to realizing they've messed up this badly and absolutely ruined the reader

Other people: fun ways we can write! Coffee shop au! Red string of fate! Hanahaki! Enemies to lovers!

me: what if I sat and tried to seriously and realistically contemplate the ramifications of a severely traumatic experience and the following neurotic habits that arise from the spiral down

Reader gets back to Spider Society, either glitching back in or "being rescued" whatever, and, you're just doing shit like digging food out of the trash "you'd never guess what kinds of perfectly good stuff people throw away, and it saves time to not have to wait for anything to be prepped! Never know when you'll vanish in the middle of a meal or that one serial killer will pop out at you again!! Ahaha!

Someone comes to check on you and you deadass have a fucking, tripwire web trap all around you, you're not even sleeping in a bed you're in your own webbing (because we rock organic webbing here because it fucks) so the second anything like, opens the door of your apartment or comes near you, you're instantly aware. Peter B comes in "heeeey, just wanna check in, make sure you're doing ok--" and there's fucking web wires rattling cans as he opens the front door and suddenly you're wide awake with an actual fucking knife or some kind of equally brutal survivalist weapon and it takes you a few seconds to fully snap out of it and let him calm you down and he has to tell Miguel You Are In Fact Not Doing Ok

You've got real "scaring all your loved ones and everyone around you" energy during those times you're just like going through some manic shit, opening your mouth and going on a sudden 'epiphany' like "i know what would help!! I'm gonna start cutting my face in really visible prominent places and that way you guys will know by the scar who I am :) and when it heals I'll cut myself again :) and again :) maybe I should just cut off a finger, how many of me do you think are missing fingers? Or maybe I could give myself a cool scar!!" And it's just like. What the fuck do they even say to that. A lot of them just genuinely could cry over this, seeing what this did to you. You sound genuinely cheerful at the realization and give no mind to how casually you just suggested self harm out of paranoia and self preservation.

You're just having like hard-core eating disorder issues going from overeating to undereating, binging because you're suffer9ng trauma from starving and then starving yourself "no its fasting, I'm FASTING to save food and money and resources, ok, I can only fit so much in my backpack and--"

You have this backpack from your multiversal glitching travels and keeping it with you basically 24/7 even when you go to the bathroom becomes a comfort habit, because, "never know when your camp has been found by the runners and you've gotta make a break for it" or some other cryptic memory you babble at them like you're discussing coffee when it could be one of the most vile horrifying things they've ever heard

I think the most interesting but tricky thing I've thought of is, what if Reader's trauma-humor coping mechanism gets dialed up to 11 and you can basically never turn it off because, your brain is protecting yourself. It's like you're Doing A Bit but literally all the time like some traumatized method actor and you're just, they're never sure if you're actually telling the truth or actually recounting things you experienced after a while

"Oh man the last time I ate a meal this big was when I finally stopped glitching and I had to break into someone's house and rob them for food! Just call me Santa Claus! But this Earth had suffered a nuclear fallout so all they had was like, DRY CRACKERS and, a lotta canned stuff, icky, and, I was in the middle of trying to pry a tin of lil cocktail weenies open with my teeth when the irradiated house centipedes smelled my blood, just imagine like a normal centipede but, like, the size of a Shetland pony, hey, friendship really IS magic right, and me and these centipedes got SO close, so anyways they smelled my blood, right, and it made them hungry, and--" and here you got like The Entire Squad speechless, Hobies just over here like "fuck, I don't even know what to say to that, you want some ketamine bruv" and yall just hit em with "nah last time I tried ketamine I had a fever dream of being replaced by an evil clone and I was shunned by all my close friends who i thought of like family. Oh wait, that was you guys! That's awkward!"

[carminecarnivale]

Literally no one is talking about this (that I’ve seen anyway) and the episode is old now but I can’t stop thinking about it so I’m making a post anyway.

This is about the scene in Helluva Boss season 2 episode 7 “Mammon’s Magnificent Musical Mid-Season Special” where a young imp and Fizzarolli sign to each other.

TLDR: The signing is wonky and the scene feels unearned.

DISCLAIMER: I AM NOT DEAF AND NOT AN ASL EXPERT. THIS IS JUST MY INTERPRETATION OF THIS SCENE. I DO NOT SPEAK FOR DEAF OR HOH PEOPLES’ OPINIONS.

Right. So, surface level, what do the writers *want* to have the signing mean? What is their desired English sentiment?

Kid: Fizzarolli! I’m a big fan!

Fizz: Come on over here

Kid: I want to be a clown just like you!

Fizz: You can do anything you want to do.

Cool, great. Now, what did they actually sign? DISCLAIMER 2: THERE IS NO WRITTEN FORM OF ASL, ASL CAN BE SORT OF TRANSCRIBED IN ENGLISH BUT IT IS NOT WRITTEN ASL.

Kid: F-CLOWN (name sign, “Fizzarolli”) I BIG FAN.

Fizz: [Gesture to come over]

Kid: CLOWN SAME-AS-YOU.

Fizz: IF/SUPPOSE WANT, CAN-aff WORK.

On the most basic level, this is fine. It more-or-less represents what the writers wanted to be said. But it’s just…not great. It’s so simple compared to what the writers wanted to say. It makes the translation put up on screen look wrong.

The kid makes no indication that they “want” to be a clown, they could very well have been meaning that they currently ARE a clown, maybe even in training. There was no indication of “becoming” or a future signifier. There was a general lack of pronouns making it sound vague. The final sentiment from Fizz is much more grounded than what the writers wanted him to say. “You can do anything!” vs “you could work as a clown if you wanted to.” The difference speaks for itself.

There ARE signs for the sentiment they want to convey!!! They exist!!! LOOK: https://youtu.be/JbfWzc0-R6E?si=FxvbC9l-hvArLPg0

“But wait!” I hear you say. “What if they got the signs first and mistranslated it?”

Since this is an English show for English speakers that must be written in English, no. They wrote the translation first and put mediocre signing in the episode.

Could the sentiment have been gutted for time/animation constraints? Quite possibly! But we’ve seen the kinds of shots the Helluva team can pull off (Striker’s 3/4 turn with the pistol, DHORKs full camera action spin, to name a few) so I don’t doubt they COULD have animated the signing appropriately if they wanted to.

Now, they did have an ASL consultant for this episode (the bare minimum we love to see it, AND on the very last page of credits? wow), his name is Salvador Baltazar. There’s not much out there on him, but he’s primarily an interpreter. There is no way to know what he helped with or how much he dictated the scene and I don’t plan on wildly speculating. It’s great that he’s there, why did he let this signing air the way it did though.

Finally, what’s the purpose of this scene? Why is it here? Why these characters in this situation?

More competent analysts than I have picked apart the woobification of Helluva characters and how, once they’re not a villain anymore, their characterization and morals get completely overhauled to appeal to the “oh he’s so traumatized!” crowd.

I think this scene is a part of that. And it got its desired reaction.

Seeing celebrities interact well with children is already something that would net a character some popularity brownie points. If that child is clearly an “other” and the celebrity does something special to recognize that child? Brownie fucking bakeries.

The purpose of this scene is to show that not all of Fizz’s fans suck, yes, but also to show how kind and nice and thoughtful Fizz is just to hammer home how TragicTM his situation is.

And the fans went wild!!!! Here is a character putting in effort to learn ASL and speak with child fans! Wow he’s so great! He’s so amazing! What Herculean tasks he’s taken upon himself to be so cool! Wow! (Not everyone says it like that, but that was the general vibe of the Helluva tag following the episode’s release).

It got fans speculating; “I wonder if this ties into his Tragic BackstoryTM!” We’ll probably never know because Fizz’s fluency in ASL, his role in the Deaf community, is not something the writers care about exploring. They didn’t include a scene with ASL because they wanted to have a deaf character, they included it to make Fizz look good.

Something a lot of people have brought up about this kid—and rightfully so—is their age. What’s this 9 year old doing at the blow-out clown sex appeal concert? How did they get into the VIP section? Couldn’t you contrast the possessive critic guy with another adult who isn’t gross? Wouldn’t it make more sense if this character was an ADULT at the ADULT SHOW?

Yes! Yes it would! But would an adult signer garner half as many pity points as a young child with stars in their eyes? No. I doubt it would.

This scene is not here to show respect for deaf people. Just like the show doesn’t respect deaf people. I ask you to check out the captions for season 2 episode 6. Go on.

Because you know what you’ll find?

A bunch of loud, keysmashing inanity, that ignores describing what’s being said in favour of making queef jokes. These are not functional captions. For a show that prides itself on being just as professional as what you can find aired on TV or streaming, this is laughably bad. This is YouTube 2013 gaming jump scare compilations bad. And those captions are Still There DESPITE people pointing out that they’re not functional.

From a studio that’s fine with sabotaging their own captions I really shouldn’t be surprised with their treatment of ASL as sloppy, basic, and only really there for pandering.

Jesus Christ, do better.

[holyshit]

You don’t know me or what I’ve said about Maya’s book an everything she is alluding to in the press. I’m staying anonymous because I’ve seen how quick you have been to judge Liam and everyone connected to this situation. You have already wrongfully assumed a lot about me. I’ve read and posted quite a bit about both the problems with the anti abortion message that Maya is pushing, and the problems with men that push their partners to get abortions they don’t want. I haven’t seen you say one word about either. 😏 so yeah, you seem to be more concerned about canceling Liam than helping victims. And as woman who dated men in Texas and lived there during the pandemic, I also have a personal connections to the issues Maya is talking about in a way most of this fandom does not. But stay comfortable on your high horse and continue to ignore naunce and all opinions that differ from yours if you’re so sure of yourself.

i was going to ignore this but these empty ass arguments are making me lauggggh

"I’m staying anonymous because I’ve seen how quick you have been to judge Liam and everyone connected to this situation"

literally WHERE have i been judging anyone other than liam lmao. in fact, your last message was all about trying to get a "gotcha!" moment out of me still reblogging louis and me responding that i am not going to hold something against louis until i actually know his stance, so i'm not jumping on "everyone connected to the situation". me partially disagreeing with anons who come into my ask box presumably to hear what i have to say is not me jumping down anyone's throat, unlike you actively coming into my inbox accusing me of random shit because you can't comprehend that someone can legitimately care about a very serious issue like domestic abuse and believing victims who come forward with their story.

"I’ve read and posted quite a bit about both the problems with the anti abortion message that Maya is pushing, and the problems with men that push their partners to get abortions they don’t want. I haven’t seen you say one word about either. so yeah, you seem to be more concerned about canceling Liam than helping victims."

first off, the only thing she said about the abortion in her interview was that it was painful, there were complications, she had to go in to the hospital for her complications alone, that it felt lonely for a man to speak as if it was no big deal when they don't actually know what it's like to go through an abortion, and that if she hadn't been pressured to get an abortion, she wouldn't have done it. none of that is inherently anti-choice, she is speaking of her own experience and how her choice was taken away by someone who minimized it and acted like the process was no big deal for his own benefit because he didn't want another kid. you can be pro-choice and still find it distressing to hear your partner dismiss your concerns and then not even accompany you to the hospital (after being given an ultimatum to have the abortion in the first place) when you experience complications. i don't know anything personal about maya so i have no clue if she is anti-choice, but no matter her position on abortion in general, it is still can absolutely be traumatic to ANYONE to be pressured into an abortion they don't want and then ignored by their partner through the process.

secondly, that is so wild to say that me not specifically discussing the abortion part of her story means i don't care about victims when it seems all you want to do is question her credibility. the fucking weirdest line of thinking to go "wow you didn't pick apart and criticize what she said about her abortion experience like I did, which means you don't care about victims" does not... make sense lmfao. all my discussions about this entire situation came specifically from anons talking about the addiction component and me giving my thoughts on that aspect, so the abortion was never an active part of the discussion, but i was never ignoring it. i have always considered it to be one of the traumatic scenarios she went through with him and was included whenever i spoke about abuse. i care about her as a victim enough to not question her credibility like you are doing all over your blog (which i do know, because i already saw your same tired arguments on my dash in your tags earlier before i unfollowed you) where you are minimizing her experience, taking jabs at her, acting like the potential of her being anti-choice is at all relevant to a discussion about domestic abuse and her being pressured into an abortion she didn't want, and trying to say it's not "in liam's character" to pressure her into an abortion, which is ridiculous when you have never even had a conversation with him in your life. one of the cornerstones of caring about victims is recognizing that abuse can happen even when the person seems nice in other contexts.

anyway, fuck off.

[icedmetaltea]

.

I'm supposed to go back to my apartment tomorrow... or at least start, it's a 9 hour drive. Considering I can't go 30 mins in a car without a panic attack, I'm guessing I'll have at least 5 a day, and considering even one is traumatizing enough??? I'm gonna fucking die I swear to god

There's still so much to do, so much to pack, so much to clean, dishes to wash, laundry to do... I've barely eaten today and I didn't even notice till now. My stomach hurts but I'm not hungry, couldn't dream of eating rn

I've had this awful choking, lump-in-throat feeling come throughout the day, got really bad this past hour, just been laying in bed trying to not swallow cause whenever I do that makes it worse. I keep coughing, trying to get it out, but nothing helps... I know it's gotta be anxiety but in the back of my brain I'm worried it's asthma, like I've had mild asthma this whole time and just didn't know it and I'm just lucky I haven't died yet

Sure feels like I'll suffocate. People liken it to breathing through a straw and yep I've sure felt that a lot. I also noticed it gets worse when I use perfume so that leads me to think it could be that more...

Nothing is helping today. I've tried staying distracted by playing games but no, ofc it's 70 degrees... is that normal in march?? I don't even know anymore. It's supposed to get to 80 on thursday. My only hope is that the conditioner my parents are lending me will work better than the shitty window fan in literally one room in my apartment.

I don't want to go back there. Realistically I know I have to, I still have a lot of stuff I'd need to throw out before I could move, and if I did move... where?? There's nowhere to go. I could move to an apartment in the state my parents are moving to but they're in the process of moving in and it could take like half a year or longer for them to fully move in, and even then I don't know if they plan to stay there or only go there in a specific season.

My sister isn't that far from the apartment, maybe 20 mins ish, but she works and I don't know her schedule, plus she has kids and will probably not be available most of the time if I have a bad panic attack or there's some kind of emergency

Everything is just so fucked right now. The economy is in shambles, women's rights are getting stripped away more and more every day, we're on the brink of like multiple wars and I'm just trying to get through my last semester and don't know if I can due to all this shit plus my dyscalculia

Even if I do... what then?? I don't have a plan for my future. I would never make it as a therapist. I would never make it as any of my other dream jobs through the years. The only thing I can think of is some computer science job but my eyes cross when trying to do that, I'm the opposite of logic-minded, I really just have no skills or passions or anything to set me apart

And my blood pressure keeps getting high for some reason. I know it's probably the anxiety but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that??? I tried therapy for half a year and it didn't help, might've made it worse bc she kept saying I should just give up and go on disability (which as we know would probably just lead to poverty) I can't get on meds because the ones I've tried make me suicidal (er) and I've tried healthy eating + exercising as much as I can considering I can't do anything more than walking and guess what??? I still have anxiety

I just want to live with my parents forever but even if I did, they're still going to die someday. Everyone I love is going to die and I'm going to be alone and/or abandoned again and again and again. It's be just like danny all over again.

Like genuinely what am I even alive for?? People always say it gets better and sure it does... for a while. Then I end up back at rock bottom. And I always will. Because I'm a failure

[bbcphile]

Ohhhhhh (AKA. Happy Anniversary to Me: Escape from the Mold House Edition)

The last week has been A Struggle and while there has definitely been plenty of Bad Shit going on (bad medical news about a friend, having a retraumatizing medical experience, some rough anniversaries of other things that brought up trauma memories, and learning that my gallbladder is very likely a ticking time bomb and btw, everyone please cross your fingers it doesn't rupture and go septic?), it didn't feel like it was quite at the level of Bad Enough (by my incredibly warped standards from too many decades of trauma) to warrant how much of a tailspin I was in.

Well. Now I have figured out the missing piece and am feeling SO MUCH BETTER.

But holy shit, the expression "The body keeps score" is so damn accurate, because of course my body was freaking the fuck out about a very traumatic anniversary that I had conveniently temporarily blocked out even though it was only two years ago (oh dissociative disorders).

To learn about the "My Apartment Almost Killed Me" Saga, keep reading below.

Soooo, here's the backstory: in May of 2022, my health, which had been rapidly tanking over the previous 9 months, took a dramatic nose dive. I was either sleeping or nearly passed out most of the time and couldn't walk across the living room without basically keeling over face first onto the ground because my muscles would go on strike, and then I would have to lie there, unable to move, until @sufficientlylargen could literally pick me up off the ground and put me on the sofa, because the muscle weakness was so bad I couldn't even lift my head or push myself up to my elbows. I had also been in and out of the ER with stroke-like symptoms, but none of the members of my medical team could figure out what was wrong. It was terrifying.

Until one day, at the very end of May, I realized I had been walking without falling over at PT and then stopped being able to walk as soon as I walked into our apartment. I repeated the experiment a few times, and realized that yep, there was definitely something in the apartment that was mostly responsible for whatever the hell was happening. We packed a bag for me and found a friend who let me crash at their place for a week while we hired an air quality expert to come and test our place. It turns out that we had 2 feet of stachybotrys mold growing up the walls of our basement, and the combination of neurotoxins from the stachybotrys plus my MCAS was literally poisoning and killing me. Over the next few weeks, we got rid of 85% of our belongings (including several hundred books, all our clothes, some of my favorite xmas ornaments growing up, which were just about the only happy things about my childhood, and most of our furniture) because we couldn't clean them enough to keep me from keeling over when I was exposed to them, packed everything else (on the porch--because I couldn't go inside--after soaking it all in ammonia so we wouldn't bring any spores into our new place), and simultaneously house and apartment hunted to try to find a place we could move into ASAP because I was supposed to be having neurosurgery in over a month and needed a place to recuperate, and every minute we delayed was a risk I'd permanently lose function due to nerve/brain/spinal column damage. (Things were made more difficult by the fact that there was a non-zero chance I could be paralyzed by the surgery so we needed to find an apartment that didn't have stairs in case I couldn't walk.) There was other drama during this time, too (eg. my new neurologist, who I had been waiting 9 months to see, closed her practice the day before my appointment with her without making any referrals, my new PCP accused me of drug-seeking when I was trying to make pain management plans for after my surgery, etc. etc.), which didn't help. But at least, within 2 weeks of moving out of the Mold House, as we'd dubbed it, I started being able to walk more than a few blocks and to even just think about writing again (and, ya know, also regularly speak complete sentences, since sometimes the neurotoxins had taken that, too), so we knew that we'd made the right decision.

Anyway, the good news is, we found a place and moved in on July 6th, so we only had to spend a month and a bit living in friends' guest rooms, hotels, and airbnbs with our two cats (one of whom developed a UTI and ear infection from the stress and mold, so we were also medicating her), and we were able to postpone my neurosurgery until February, and the neurosurgery was a success, which is why I'm alive and able to do things like write meta and fic again!

All this to say, I hadn't realized until I saw a thing about it on FB Memories (lol) that it had been 2 years since my apartment was literally killing me and I was abjectly terrified. And it never fails to amaze me that my body (and some parts of my mind) clearly remember anniversaries like that even if I don't, because my anxiety will be through the roof and I will be having more flashbacks about Unrelated Trauma Things and just generally feeling like my resilience is at about half its normal level. My working theory is that those aspects that remember the anniversary assume it's happening again and I never got out (oh emotional flashbacks. How I hate you.), and it's only once I make the connection consciously and can reflect on 1. how terrible it was (yay validation?) and 2. the fact that it's over and I survived through sheer stubbornness and good research skills (again) that I can get back to my baseline and things (like writing) become so much more fun and easier.

Last reflection on this shitshow: last year, I was too busy recovering from my neurosurgery to notice what I was feeling about the 1 year anniversary of the Escape From The Mold House (or at least, if I had any reflections on it, I don't remember them), but I'd guess it was probably still too upsetting and traumatizing for me to be ready to look at the memories directly. But right now, at least, I'm really proud of myself. I mean, all of that was horrifying and traumatizing, and I wouldn't wish it on ANYONE, but I'm really proud of myself for saying 'fuck this, something is wrong, and I think I know what, and I am going to solve it because I can, and I refuse to die like this.' I sometimes forget that under all the anxiety and trauma and insecurity, I am fundamentally incredibly stubborn, determined, confident in my opinions, and willing to fight for myself.

I'm hoping I can hold onto that reminder as I go forward, especially depending on what I learn about whether my gallbladder is in fact a ticking time bomb. I can and will argue with my doctors to take this seriously if I have to; I just don't want to need to.

[izlosingtheirmind]

I smoked DMT in May of this year and this is my experience and how it changed my life

Important context for this is I’ve been suicidal most of my life. The prior months leading up to this experience, I had been severely suicidal, every day. I had a note ready and was certain I wasn’t making it to 30.

I didn’t breakthrough all the way and I didn’t really have to. I got very close.

At first I was just ..“dancing with the universe” is the only way I can explain it. The most magnificent patterns I’ve ever seen, colors I can’t explain. I cried of joy. I could still see my apartment. My vision was like a shutter. For ex. One moment an object would be a rectangle, then it would switch (not morph), totally switch in a shutter type fashion into a circle. And then some more shapes I’ve never seen and can’t explain.

Then I took my last hit, held it in. My reality got very weird and a bit scary. I saw someone or thing watching me from my bathroom door and my jacket hanging up began to melt.

Then right when I said “I think I want this to stop”, I was shot through a tunnel of spinning mandalas made of eyes. Quite literally that popular piece by Alex Grey. But not looking at it, in it. Fully in it. Reality was no more. When I was in that tunnel, I didn’t know nor think about my human existence. None of it existed for that time. But I was quickly shot back into reality.

I saw my apartment again, but it was crazy. My walls and objects were morphing from shape to shape, color to color extremely fast. I looked at my cat and she was morphing and changing color too. Neon pink, neon green and checker pattern stuck out to me the most for some reason.

Then reality crumbled right before my eyes. Literally. Everything turned black/white/grey and crumbled like a building being demolished. And I was back in a world I can’t explain.. it was dark. Again, my human existence didn’t exist, i was just energy experiencing.. something.

Finally I came back to reality, saw my friend and grasped him for dear life so I didn’t get taken back to that world. I was so scared I wouldn’t come back from it, and that I was going to be sent back for eternity. I thought I was either going to die or go insane. Everything was morphing as it was before. All that was going through my head was that I’m going to lose the girl I really like, I’m gonna lose my job, my cats won’t have a mom anymore, I’m never gonna see my family and friends again. I held onto my friend for dear life until it finally fully ended.

All I could mutter was “what the fuck”. No amount of psychedelics could have prepared me for DMT. It’s a whole other animal.

Interestingly, when I came out of it and realized I was okay and it did in fact end, I wasn’t scared of it. I thought I’d be traumatized from an experience like that and never want to touch it again. It was easily the scariest experience of my entire life. Yet, directly after, I felt grateful and intrigued.

It took me about an hour or 2 to just somewhat process what had just happened. But I quickly came to the realization that I am not ready to die. That I have potential, that my loved ones need me and that is why I was scared. Not only did I gain this knowledge, I also came back with a knowing that this is the case for every human soul on this planet. I didn’t get an answer as to why, but I now know we all have a reason for being here. Every one of us. No matter how hopeless it seems. Everyone is meant to be here and experience this life.

The second realization I came to rather quickly was that running from fear of the unknown will only make things worse. Every time. That I must SURRENDER to life and know that it is out of my control (besides my actions). This, I believe as an intuitive knowing from the experience, was a lesson that was taught so that I can integrate it into my life, and until I do, I am not to return to the DMT world. And I have taken this lesson very seriously and have been taking action to push past my fears that I would normally let dictate my life. I have a lot of work to do still, because it is a huge barrier I’ve got to tackle. And I’ll be honest I’ve been slacking.

I tried to return last week and was not granted access no matter how much of it I smoked. I got the visuals, but was stuck in the waiting room with an intuitive feeling that it’s not time yet and I still have work to do.

So yeah, DMT zapped away my suicidal ideation, made me realize how my life does have potential and sent me on a mission to conquer my fears and live the life I WANT. And I’m grateful as hell.

With psychedelics, you really have to be able to take what you can get from the experience, good or bad. But if DMT ever crosses your path and you feel ready to accept what it has to offer, I highly recommend you do. (Don’t seek it. It will come to you.)

[deliciouskeys]

13 for the OTP thing

13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. From the soft OTP prompts.

I am so late in answering this, Anon-who-may-not-even-see-this, mostly because I’ve been wanting to write a full-fledged answer to this prompt but kept getting stumped by how to approach it, and had at least four different ideas:

February 22

I don’t think I’m alone in thinking HL’s fake birthday in the show is Feb 22 as per the Boys Twitter account post that he shares a birthday with George Washington. This would mean they scheduled it during the post-Christmas doldrums and nothing good on TV and not great weather, and not on the Fourth of July when every red blooded American is going to be sitting under the stars watching fireworks after a barbecue. I wouldn’t put it past them to air the special on the President’s Day Monday and not even the 22nd every year.

I wanted to write Billy watching one of the inane birthday specials in his sad apartment, drinking and scoffing and talking to himself like a sad old man, and then HL suddenly drops by and Billy’s all “whoa, I thought they aired these things live!” and HL’s all “yeah well after what happened last year they recorded it ahead 😒”, and Billy’s about to say something snarky but thinks better of it when HL is clearly here and down to fuck. They’re in a messed up enemies with benefits relationship in this version.

Fourth of July

If we follow comicsverse and the resultant wiki article, HL’s birthday is on Independence Day. Billy is having a good time at MM’s barbecue on some NYC roofdeck (he has custody of Janine on holidays), the rest of the Boys are there too, Frenchie is criticizing MM’s grilling and burger assembly techniques, Kimiko is assembling kebabs a little too aggressively, Hughie and Annie are drinking Trulys. Suddenly HL literally drops in. People on neighboring roof decks are going nuts, super pumped. The Boys are all ashen faced except maybe Kimiko who’s unfazed, and Janine is pretty enthused, and none of them want to traumatize her if at all possible, so MM is silently pleading with Billy not to escalate the situation. But Billy’s like “wtf you doing here cunt 😡” and HL’s like “First of allllllll, I’m allowed to be here” and Billy tries to object that no one invited him, but Janine’s already asking for an autograph and MM has to keep it together. And then HL is like “Also it’s my birthday, so I’d please like you all to sing happy birthday to me” and Annie’s eyes are shooting daggers because srsly, again with this stupid powerplay?? But MM is pleading with Billy to try not to turn this into a scene, and Frenchie seems down for absolutely no reason, so they all sing, pretty badly and hesitantly, and Billy distinctly says “dear supe cunt” but they do finish it out, and Billy’s dismayed that HL is maybe touched for real. And then they have a really uncomfortable remainder of a barbecue where HL plays up his aw shucks persona to Janine, and Billy is seething, but Frenchie and Hughie are kind of impressed that HL can char corn on the cob with his eyes better than the grill. They’re all very relieved when he has to leave to film his special though.

Billy’s birthday

Another enemies-with-benefits scenario. I assume Billy never does anything to mark his birthday, and figures no one knows it, but HL gets Vought Analytics to sniff it out. Billy’s hanging out in his apartment like any normal night when HL shows up with some super fancy Japanese-French bakery small cake with candles on it, and Billy bursts out laughing because it’s pretty incongruous, but then he also gets really angry, because he remembers the last person who made him a cake was Becca before 2012, and it was the exact opposite of this, homemade and kind of lopsided and the writing with icing was a mess because cake decoration wasn’t her forte. And it’s really sad and never mind I would never write this, definitely not as a oneshot 😢

HL’s real birthday

I might actually include this in my mpreg fic. I want HL’s actual birthday to be some random day in spring like they say in the show, maybe May, and for Billy to find out the real date from some godforsaken secret document from the 80s during the massive FBI investigation of all of Vought’s files. It’s something HL never found out for himself, so this piece of intel is like a gift in itself.

[whumpfish]

PSA:

I keep my activism mostly on other blogs so that this one is all whump, writing, and chronic pain/illness focused. I don't have a huge dni at the top of my page because I am trying to keep this blog on topic.

But apparently, it needs to be said: I do not want to interact with people who try to justify genocide/promote that shit. I also do not want to interact with people so rotten that they claim to want entire families to suffer trauma and suicide because they want to be 2cool and the most activistest 4evar and make the pointiest point with zero critical thinking or base knowledge.

I am old for this site. I was born in 1984. So a lot of people in the latter category don't have this memory. I'm trying to be cognizant of that. But I grew up hearing "Gays deserve to get AIDS and die, it's what they get for living that lifestyle."

And y'all might not want to hear this, but "Veterans deserve to get PTSD and commit suicide, it's what they get for living that lifestyle" has the same energy. You still are so zealously ignorant in your ahistorical hate and your dedication to not understanding the underlying issues that you want not just individuals but everyone in their lives to suffer trauma and death.

Combat PTSD does not happen in a vacuum. Suicide does not happen in a vacuum. It leaves scars on entire families for generations that last forever. I cannot believe I have to say this. My entire, very antiwar family has suffered the ripple effects of combat PTSD (my very gentle and antiwar uncle was drafted during Vietnam and has night terrors to this day), and suicide (my oldest uncle had bipolar I like me and died of it before I was born).

Entire gulfs opened between my family and our faith. Between generations. Between individuals. I had a hard time engaging with a lot of my family for a long time because subconsciously they were afraid, because nobody knew how to talk to Sam either once the bipolar hit critical mass and look how that turned out. They didn't even notice it was there, the traumatic response of withdrawal was that automatic. We still don't know how to talk to my uncle about the shit he saw, so we don't. It feels considerate, but also not, because I never liked being apart from my family over silence on anything, and I don't know how he feels because we don't ask, and it's this vicious circle under the surface that never goes away. And he never had a choice, just like me, just like my bipolar uncle I never got to meet.

If you think that draftees, and people who wanted to go to college without the crushing student debt they see their peers suffering, and people who were straight up lied to--because recruiters will say literally anything to get warm bodies in the door, they will lie about access to medicine, they will lie about where you're going, they will lie about what your job will be--and their entire families deserve trauma and death for the actions of governments and military-industrial complexes... fuck you. Just. Fuck you.

Family annihilation as punishment for one person getting crossways of a predatory government was supposed to have ended a couple hundred years ago.

[mirrorhunt]

In the place where I live now, there was a couple of days with nice, warm, sunny weather, and obviously a ton of kids were out of their homes playing in the last days before school started. Laughing, squealing, running, singing. All the stuff happy kids do. And while I listened to it, I teared up.

I'm not a parent, nor am I ever planning to be one, so I cannot imagine how it must feel to those who are. To those, whose kids ran from war to some country still at peace. Because I kept remembering all those kids that will never play outside, never laugh or sing. Or of the terror of parents who let their kids outside in the country at war, knowing that at any moment a bomb can fly right in the playground, like it did far too many times before. But they have no other choice, because you can't really keep a kid locked up in the basement all the time. Hell, even the basement isn't safe. No where in Ukraine is safe.

In Orikhiv, we lived on the street with many kids. They would gather after school or on the weekends, and ride their bicycles, play games, or discuss some children's troubles. You could always hear them, especially in summer, when windows will be open. Yes, it was annoying at times, yes, they were being rather loud when you wanted silence, but they were children. And then the war knocked on our doors. Literally. With shrapnels.

That day, a horrible, cold, terrifying Thursday of 24th February, 2022, everything stopped. Since that day, there was no childish laughter, no racing bikes, no loud screaming turned giggles. It was eerie. Everything was since that day. So to hear children being children, happy and safe, is bittersweet, knowing how many had suffered. russians took their childhood, stole it from them, banished from their home, burned their cities. I'm an adult, and they did all that to me, and it's fucking hard, I cannot even imagine how traumatic it is for a small human. To have your safety ripped out so savagely, your family is torn apart, everything you knew and loved is broken, burned to ashes. And you have to build it all up from point zero somewhere else. Somewhere, where they have no idea who you are, with no friends or family behind your back, perhaps with language that you don't know, everything around foreign, strange, and you are so alone and scared. And no one understands what you have been through. Not if they came from a similar place.

I hate russians. Every single one of them. I want them to burn for every little tear my people shed during those horrible times. For every scared child, for every orphan, for every childless parent, for everyone gone and everyone injured and everyone broken. I hate them beyond any words, want them to suffer the worst tortures, die the most horrific deaths, and to never, ever find peace. I want them gone from this planet.

[vizthedatum]

Surreal

During the last week of my relationship with my ex/spouse, I was in constant terror. I was popping klonopin and taking edibles as much as I could. I was dabbing as much as I could. I was on the couch (almost the entire time) trying to listen to music and apply to apartments CONSTANTLY. I was freezing and fawning so bad. Most of the time, I was naked or partially naked. I could barely function.

I wanted to be back in their arms so badly - to really make things work - to try everything to make our relationship work. They sent me these messages right before I came inside:

I would have isolated from society forever. I would have carried out our plan of living separately but still isolating myself so that I could save the marriage. The burden of saving our marriage was on me - because I was the problem. They started a new job, and they told me they couldn't do this relationship and the job at the same time. I needed to stop being a problem.

They accused me of cheating and turned on me within an hour of when I got home. They told me that my hair burned them. I managed to yell out saying that YOU NEED TO GO THERAPY - THIS IS NOT WHO YOU ARE. And they yelled THIS IS WHO I AM. And I saw how monstrous the person who I had married... who I was deeply in love with... looked. Then at some point, I somehow went up to my room? They had told me to get out of their sight. I think it was around that time when their mom convinced them not to take my meds away from me. Then they sent me messages saying I could come down again and it wasn't a trick. (Messages three hours after the 'reading manual' one)

We took our last two selfies together - they looked manic - I just... I loved them, and I desperately wanted to be together. I wanted to make it work.

The yelling and terror continued the whole week. Intermixed with offers to help me pay off all the money I spent on moving my brother out of my parents' home - a very traumatic and involved trip to Minnesota that I absolutely had to do.

(Funny - I ended up going into debt anyway by escaping, paying the lease break fee (of which they are paying LESS THAN HALF (I guess getting a hella expensive lawyer really pays off, huh? You fucking absolute thief)), supporting myself through medical bills (including getting myself checked out for the IUD THAT THEY PULLED OUT OF ME and STI testing because I literally cannot remember if they used protection the last time they had sex with me (raped me, because they forced me to verbally consent, kept fucking me while I had a panic attack, and then somehow I ate and left the home?! I had ingeniously (hah) told them that they couldn't touch me after that unless they could commit to making me orgasm (something they hadn't been able to do in a very long time because they don't make me feel safe). In a daze.), supporting myself through months of wading through life the best I could, fighting to get my stuff back, cleaning or throwing away my things because so much was infested with grime and rodent droppings, etc.)

They would yell how I wasn't trying hard enough to get an apartment and get out of there - I was trying so hard - masking so hard when I'd make phone calls - I received messages from potential landlords correctly assuming I was being abused - I got scammed maybe like 3 times and lost money - I was messaging my friends non-stop WHILE apartment hunting for my life. For us.

I couldn't get high enough. I couldn't stop feeling so horrible. I wanted to die. I thought it was over. They kept trying to talk me out of my touch boundaries while I just looked at them and trembled in fear - I don't think any of my emotions registered to them.

I watched how they chose to appear sane during work calls... and chose to be completely unhinged with me.

I was texting my MIL - trying to explain my affairs (we were poly and open) in detail and how I told Jon what I was up to - I needed to be honest - I told her how they kept trying to touch me without my consent.

So many things happened all at once. I wanted to focus on my friends and the good things in my life. Lose myself in the fantasy of life being okay. I hated being how I was. I was talking to my partners, random lovers, friends, etc. just to know that I was wanted by someone - it felt good.... while my mind and body were falling apart.

They really wanted me out of there - while telling me that they loved me. So much yelling. I was packing.

I finally broke up (Thurs? Fri? The days blended together) with them but they still wanted to be married. They were relieved (they said) when I broke up with them. I told my MIL - (Please note that my ex has friendships I know nothing about, conversations with their really weird ex that I have no idea about, they send money to their ex, I have no idea if my ex cheated on me or not - I literally have no clue - meanwhile they go around slut shaming me even though THEY ARE POLY AS FUCK (but also super controlling)):

We kept doing our marriage ritual - nothing changed. Now I was married in a partnerless relationship where I was still being controlled. We still said we loved each other.

My credit got approved for a place that didn't check employment paystubs (Sat).

And then I got myself flowers.

The next day I left (Sun). I wrote my MIL on Mon:

On Nov 21, 2022, I called my MIL (with the help of a friend) and told her it was DV. And then I posted on Facebook:

"CW: straight up DV

Don’t tell my brother (or my immediate family) any of this. He is blocked from reading this. And I got him out of an abusive situation and he’s doing so much better so please don’t ruin the strides I’ve made with him. I waited my entire life to get him out and safe, so just don’t.

I’m safe. It has unfortunately dawned on me that I’ve been in a DV situation once again - and I didn’t know - it wasn’t until I went to MN and got clarity - I’ve been in several different DV situations and well, I didn’t want to believe it because it was literally the best relationship I ever had? Because well, who else would love me like they would? They were loving and caring and kind - they supported me through surgeries and dr appts and so much shit. They were my rock and my everything. I don’t regret any of it. I really don’t. I loved them and they loved me. Our vows were fucking poetry and it symbolized the love we shared and built together. Our wedding day was unforgettable and beautiful, and I’ll never forget it. I think I’ll always love them.

I deluded myself because - I never thought I could have this. No one ever loved me like that. And that’s why I denied it for so long. The love was and is there but it’s not enough. It hurts to say that I deserve more, but I do.

I left my home Sunday night. I packed what I could in my car and left because I didn’t feel safe. When I came home to them last week, I thought it would be fine but it wasn’t. It was the worst it’s ever been. My heartbreak is beyond belief.

I have a plan moving forward. I need a salaried job and while I know I can get one, my brain is not what it used to be. I think I’ll snap back once I’m living on my own again. I can do certain types of data analysis in my sleep, I swear.

My spouse is going through a lot right now, and that comes with its own challenges, but I refuse to be gaslit and taken advantage of anymore. They DO need support, but I can’t do it anymore. Please know that they’re not a “bad” person - they’re scared and I don’t think they know what’s going on. They need support I can no longer give. This is a nuanced situation. Abuse isn’t black and white - it never is or was. (And fucks sake - don’t any of you call the police - my spouse is a black queer person who is trying the best they can and I fucking love them. We are separated and they’re safe and I’m safe. Just don’t dare do it. I am begging all of you to just listen.)

*I need to put myself first and this is me doing that.*

They aren’t in their right mind right now and will likely say things that paint me in a bad light. I’m putting my truth out here to fight against this inevitability. I am definitely not faultless (a relationship - even a dysfunctional one - takes more than one after all), but I deserve more. I don’t believe that I deserve more but I do and I’m trying to believe it.

I am seeking a divorce from my spouse and going no contact with them except for the logistics of divorce and lease conclusion. Any attempts to contact me on their behalf will be construed as siding with my abuser.

This is a recent realization. I need time to process. Yes obviously I see a therapist. If you contact me and I don’t respond, please know that I’m safe. I’ll try to send my contact info to people before I delete this account."

--

Since then, I've come a long way.

It has come clear to me that much of the emotional and narcissistic abuse was intentional and that they need serious help if they want to stop emotionally abusing other people in the future. It takes time to realize, process, understand, recognize the patterns, and move forward. For both victims and abusers alike.

I am healing.

I never want to be with them again. I hope they find peace one day.

They fucked me over financially with their lawyer (confirmed this morning, and I have been recovering since that phone call - my finances have been the worst of my adult life since I left, and after growing up in a family that financially struggled, I hate that they put me in this situation). After putting me through all of that.

I absolutely gaslit myself through much of our relationship.

I am more stable every day DESPITE the emotions. I will never betray my body or self by not listening to my emotions. My anger is justified. My grief is justified. My joy is so so so real. My health is improving. I am going to succeed despite it all.

--

It's so surreal.

[kitxkatrp]

So...I might be erratic for a while and just..asking for positivity and not here. I'm sorry. but the situation I was in just got a whole lot more dire.

So someone in this building gave me bedbugs. I changed out the mattress thinking it was spiders from the air conditioner because I got stuff from the air conditioner for sure I saw them.

I do not know how many are in my apartment and I can't tell management to get it professionally treated because I can't afford it due to the mattress (which is a piece of shit btw I had to spend the last of my money on a mattress topper because its so painful to sleep on and I won't even get that for three fucking days). If management finds out they have every reason to throw me out of the building.

I have nowhere to go. this place was my last resort. The last of the family I had that doesn't think I'm a pos for being a depressed/traumatized child is gone as of december 2021. My only friends have big dogs that will kill my cat.

I literally have no options. I'm so stressed out I want to throw up. I've been crying for almost an hour. My friends seem calm that we can get this fixed, but they don't fucking understand that I literally have no options if they choose to kick me out I'm done. I'm on the street.

I have been homeless twice before. I can't do it again I'd rather die.

I am very suicidal right now. I am being checked on constantly by people, so don't worry, but like...fuck. fuck fuck fuck. And I just keep thinking back to that stupid fucking anon that said I was a terrible person for daring to express that my life was shit on here and accusing me of blaming people for it and I didn't want to speak about it at all, but here we are. I have no other outlet, so I guess I'm gonna continue to be toxic for a while longer.

Sorry. Thanks for reading this if you did. I love you guys, I really do, but I just can't right now when I don't even want to be alive. I need a break.

[monochromayhem]

Trauma is relative for us.

So it’s hard to talk about traumagenic stuff because most sysmeds will make the assumption that the trauma I truly identify as solidifying my system for good was “too late”. That somehow my trauma being late makes us not friggin real and I don’t care for it.

Content warning for psychological abuse, bug death, false accusations of assault, legal stuff, physical assault with a weapon, and forced fusion. If you don’t think you can stomach it, I understand and this may not be the post for you.

There have been three periods of time in particular that have been identified by Umbra and I (Chrome):

Ages 6-10, when we were so horribly bullied that we had to endure literal death of bugs and daily trips to the principals office to cry. We had group exercises in class where we put our desks in a circle and were made to write nice things to each other and Robert still couldn’t say anything nice.

Ages 15-18, where our childhood died and our life of keeping our mouth shut began. A family member was falsely accused of assault and plead guilty under threat of violence from the prosecutor’s mother and suffered job loss. Police cars circled our neighborhood every day, news stations knocked on our door.

Age 23, where we were systematically psychologically tortured for four months. Every instant we tried to be honest with how awful we felt, we were deprived of any sympathy and made to feel like crying was completely pointless. Oh and did I mention I was assaulted with a weapon and bribed into silence? Because I was!

We only identify the last one as our trauma as it was what made it clear to us that we could NEVER EVER attempt final fusion again. We tried to be one entity for a year as a means to please someone we only wanted the love of, and our mental health deteriorated. We did it for them and they decided we were too damaged.

Never again. Umbra had to carry out the gruesome task of forcing his friends into dormancy and we never truly recovered— there are still members missing. We’re haunted by the vacancies.

I hate that I’m told “it wasn’t childhood trauma so you’re not legit”. The sysmates delivered me from that wretched apartment and I’m fucking grateful every damn day of my life. Because without them I could have died at the hands of someone who self-identified as a psychopath.

But I lived, bitch. We lived. And as long as the breath in my lungs powers me, I will steel myself and leap into the places the phantoms of the past are too afraid to follow. And I will have comrades who will fight alongside me to the bitter end.

I am allowed to be traumatized. I am allowed to be a part of a system and identify my trauma as recent. Even with signs of plurality as early as 7 years old, I’m allowed to focus on what hurts me most.

Kids can be cruel, and at this point I don’t care about that pain because there’s nothing more I can do.

Teenagers are monsters, especially sporty cis men, and I’m allowed to despise the person who tore my family to shreds and left me to be secretive. But ultimately, all I can do is be there for my family.

But the wounds that are fresh. Let me conquer them. Allowing my system to identify that as our trauma allows us to focus on moving past it. It will take time, it will take effort. There will be days where we might fall in the mud and cry like a little bitch. But the fact that we are still moving forward… that’s enough to have hope.