#i want to disssociate

[dihalect]

saw a post a few days ago — a screenshot of a facebook post or smth — that was like. “i’m having a complete breakdown but i’m just chillin”. and. mmmmmmme

[dumbbitchfrommars]

i wanted to die at one point in my life. i wanted to watch as the blood dripped from the endless cuts i put on my own body, i wnted to see how mny i could fit on the areas of my body that werent visible because i wanted that private pain because i always knew the complete hypocrisy and idiocy of being suicidal and making it a caricature for the world to see.

its why i felt so stupid going to a psychologist that i seeked out for myself, every week, filling in that stupid sheet and downplaying my true feelings because it seemed so redundant to say i was depressed and anxious and having suicidal thoughts when i clearly desired to live enough to tell someone and try get help for it. but somehow i still wanted those things too. and i was invalidating myself by thinking the psychologist who barely knew or cared about me gave two shits about the fact that i was being a hypocrite.

im almost certain i have bpd.

if not i definitely have emotional dysregulation.

"nobody understands"

does nobody want to understand? or do i want them to not understand? or do i put it in the too hard basket - because no one knows how to fucking listen these days. or is it that i simply dont know how to say it. to say the hard thing and communicate how i truly feel. which is pure shit.

im beginning to disssociate from my own reality. potentially very likely the reason and source for all my creativity that i was wondering about. i thought it had gone for good. turns out i just needed to be completely stressed and depressed for it to come back - my perfect distraction. my one true love. dqydreaming. maladaptive daydreaming... hits different when my reality is unbelievably shit and worse. makes me get real juicy and creative with my made up stories to escape into.

the way my life is actully grreqt and fine and dandy and im lucky and special and i still feel like this. will the feeling ever go away?

its not fair that you made it all about you. my mental health is suffering because im trying so hard for everyone and youre turning my efforts into anither problem to pick away at? fuck you. fuck you. watch me prioritise myself. watch me take the biggest step away from you. youve failed me again, you alwaus fail me! you will never know what it feels like to be me. yiu will never understand.

i need to move out. i need to leave. i need to get the FUCK away. im so angry im heartbroken. im so angry im broken. i feel like a child again. how could you fail me so badly that i cut my own body and fantasized about death?

i really want to just go invisible. become the physical embodiment of what my internal world is feeling. but... more than usual. archive everything on instagram and change my bio to "gone for abit". delete the app. delete everything in fact. go awol. leave. disappear. isnt that what you want? isnt that what you deserve? if you wanted to ignore me so bad. ill just fucking leave then. ill go! im happy to do that. but somehow i know that wont work anymore. it never did, actually. it only did for me. and now i dont even think i get that as a consolation. because unfortunately my conscience is just too self aware to do that. anyway.

i just dont see anyone taking me and my issues seriously. thats how this problemcame to be, wasnt it? my parents judged and laughed at my big emotions. my feelings. my thoughts. now i dont know how to express fucking anything. but i also ccan? cause ive made it this far. hiding. hiding in plain sight. ugh

i cant keep doing this anymore. i cant keep writing! but i also cant keep hiding. but fucking everyone sucks. theyre just gonna have to deal, i suppose. what do i do, god? i dont know what else there is to say anymore. its all on the table. im still angry and hurt. and im so agonisingly close to that familiar feeling. god, i want to turn to my old bad habits but i know it wont help me. its a beautifully sadistic secret. but it helps nothing. its just a pointless secret. but at least its a release. its a sinful pleasure. once i do it, ill unravel. but i kind of want to. i want to be a bad person. ive always been a bad person pretending to be good, though. i could just be bad and authentic, and covered in bloody scars too. or i could just ... i wont go there just yet. im not thaat stupid, am i?

EWJGFVJFVKJDVKJDFVJKDFJKFVKJFVJKN

[rottedcreatures]

Like i fucking get being an adult is tiring but everyone is always forgetting being 13-17 is so much worse because cortisol is out of whack, everyone around you is seemingly moving faster than you and in the final years of school you have to really put everything into hyper speed and its

Fucking

Exhausting.

Combine that with adhd, autism, depression and various other mental illnesses you get a burnt out suicidal teenager who wants nothing more than a God damn break for once in their life

I'm so fucking tired of having to pretend like school doesn't take up nearly all the spoons I have. Im fucking tired of having to act like everything is fine and I'm dying inside because I'm getting more tired by the day and the world is only getting scarier and louder and more stressful

I'm tired of pretending like I'm not sick and tired of the constant need for everyone to depend on me

Sure. Knowing people trust you to care for other people is nice

But not when it's everyday, constantly, all the fucking time

I matter too. I'm a person too.

But they don't care! They just care about if they can pawn off their child on some poor teen who's barely able to keep from disssociating most of the time.

I'm so fucking tired, man

Don't you just fucking love when your mother expects you to know where every dish she owns is because "you're the one who puts away dishes" and then she just refuses to admit she likely either gave said dish away or got rid of it?

Don't you fucking love when your mother or other parent expects you to constantly be okay with being a parent stand-in when they don't feel like being a parent for the kids they decided to have?

Don't you fucking love when your expected to cook dinner almost every night because your mom is "just so exhausted from work" and "doesn't feel good" despite being a fucking senior in high-school and on top of that being expected to watch your autistic siblings and not being allowed to complain about being stressed ever in your life?

Don't you fucking love when your parents refuse to do anything about the fact that you're burning yourself out trying to keep up with school, your siblings, the dishes, cleaning the house, and taking care of yourself all at once?

Don't you just love it?

(This entire post is using the word love in a sarcastic way)

[tinkdw]

Asks

[goldkirk]

working from home is great because you can have physical symptoms and mental symptoms and just respond to business emails while no one knows you’re low-key crying and bundled in a hoodie and leggings and really thick blankets in bed. it’s magic. you can look and feel as embarassing as you want and disssociate and everything and literally don’t have to pretend for anyone or push through and make things worse. also it’s letting me not leave my little safe zone for days but listen I’ll take fear of leaving the house over running myself into the ground from a regular job I think that’s a fair trade off at this point

[svt-kismet]

back here just to leave this

too close for comfort

pairing — jihoon/reader

genre — fluff, princess diaries 2 au, requested “100 ways to say i love you: 57. “there is enough room for both of us.””

w.c. — 947

warnings — none

Keep reading

[carolightpenvenys]

LIVE POLDARK REACTS S4E2

a/n: sorry this is up so late! i always do the gifs the morning after but i have been working straight shifts this whole week so i can only do it now!!!! love u all and pls tell me ur reacts!!!! xxx

omfg JEREMY SPEAKS 

omg i can’t believe falmouth thinks hugh will survive this :( i feel bad for him rlly

omg george cmon why do i lowkey want him to win the election

omg that shade on choake i fuckin CHOKED

HELLO EVERYONE JUST TO SAY I NOW IDENTIFY AS AN ENYS PENVENEN OFFSHOOT

hello meet cornwall’s hottest new boyband the RESURRECTION BOYS someone pls photoshop this

sam is so in love with emma it’s sad bc i just want him to love me apologies to my boyfriend

caroline here to save the day and clean up demelza’s mess

omg ossie and george what a REVOLTING DUO

omg is caroline meddling in politics

LORD FALMOUTH IS HERE

why is the wrestling match the most exciting plot we have had this season

omg i can’t believe homegirl caroline has set up this amazing opportunity for demelza to meddle in politics

i love this CHARITABLE CAUSE AWHHHHHHHHH

ross and dwight i don’t like it when my daddies fight

there is SO much dwight content 

ross teaching sam how to fight THIS IS MY FIGHT SONG

look i know sam wants to impress emma but like fr tho him and tom harry wiuldn’t even be in the same weight class

ooh some mum porn of ross in the bath

wtf a totem pole where are we 

morwenna going to church like I WANNA CHURCH GIRL WHO GOTO CHURCH

i don’t mean to be rude but they’re rlly dragging out hugh’s inevitable death lol

i love COUSIN ELIZABETH AND MORWENNA AN ICONIC DUO

i hope dwight’s bought his needle and thread too caroline hun him stitching up sam is the ultimate NUT

omg tom harry is so greasy and gross i am literally REPULSED.

WHT DO U MEAN EMMA HAD SEX WITH TOM HARRY

omg STOP JEREMY AND VALENTINE PLAYING TOGETHER ZKD;FLJSAF;JRAEGJO;AERJGIGHOEHGIEHIGHOIEJROIGE

omg morwenna is on the beach alone perchance will drake turn up

well would u look at that

how can ossie not see drake from where hes standing lol

oh tom harry truly is grim isn’t he

I AM GONNA CRY HE NO LONGER NEEDS HIS SERVICE

some more dwight am i the winner of the dwight lottery or something

i just disssociated even tho it was a dwight scene bc it’s all abt hugh WHERE IS MY PENVENYS I NEED THE DAMN PENVENYS

lmao tho how did hugh’s death become all abt ross and his political career

lmao ross finding out demelza meddled and being happy for his woman. do i respect ross? find out next time

omg uncle whatshisname is back I LOVE HIM

also how nice is that house 

oh my fuckin god did basset just................. not let him in

omg hugh is so CRINGE boy no

so ross IS RUNNING FOR PARLIAMENT

OH MY GOD HE SAW THE LETTER HUGH GAVE HER

it’s somehow fine??????????? ok???

omg isn’t emma just adorable i just want to cuddle her

omg sam is so honourable 

i feel emma so bad loads of ppl i know have just key principles they live by and i find it so hard...... it’s POSSIBLE tho. anything is. i mean my boyfriend is a gemini.

omg osborne has such good gossip

is it abt ross

omg he’s BURSTING

GIVE CHRISTIAN BRASSINGTON AN OSCAR FOR THIS SCENE

i know hugh means alot to demelza but i would be dead pissy like if she didn’t come to potentially the biggest day of my political life

omg are those swans in the lake.

are they....... THE FOUR SWANS??????

omg hugh pls die these scenes are just the same thing three million times

i am so here with everyone bringing their wives to the election and ross bringing DWIGHT

omg falmouth BOTTLED IT 

tbh i am surprised he’s even at the election bc hugh is literally dying

ok so george is winning rip ross this is embarrassing

only 1 more vote fuck

omg basset

basset listen

sweaty

ROSS POLARK

omg george mst literally wanna die 

omg i lowkey love falmouth let’s celebrate

omg falmouth what’s wrong

hugh is dead!!!!!!!!!

why is dwight’s ugly brown coat such a LOOK i lowkey want one

dwight giving ross good advice is my king

awww emma didn’t have sex with tom harry i hate men

omg what she’s leaving

omg if they aren’t endgame i swear to fuckin god

OMG MY CHILDREN ARE KISSING

HE IS A GOOD BOY ISN’T HE

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW TOES

omg is that

rowella?????

omg she WASN’T PREGANNT??? LIL SNAKE

ossie lowkey deserves the worst tho lol

lowkey tho demelza should probs comehome at some point

scratch that caroline will look after her just fine!!!!

i think it’s rlly cathartic they are chatting about it. well done romelza

omg i can’t believe ross is going to london???? DOES THIS MEAN MORE DWIGHT/CAROLINE NEXT WEEK???

end of reacts

[rozl]

If I told you the truth about me

Would it matter?

Would you listen?

Like you judge me?

Would it free me?

I don’t know.

The first time I thought about killing myself... I was around four years old. I was sitting on the stairs of the first house my parents had ever bought.

I don’t know what caused it. I don’t know why I felt that way. I just remember thinking of the pair of scissors that were in the kitchen drawer. I thought of how my parents would be happier if I wasn’t alive. Maybe they would argue less. Maybe they wouldn’t be as mad. I thought about how big and heavy they were. For some reason, I decided not to.

My dad cheated on my mom. I have a half sister in Chicago. When we left her is when my life seemed to go dark. I wasnt allowed to talk about her. We used to draw together, play at the park together, walk the dog with my uncle together... my dad would come home from work and bring is chocolate snacks. We’d argue over the flavors. Wed argue over what power ranger to be.

I missed her. I miss the lack of yelling. I missed the peace.

I felt sad and I was too young to understand.

In preschool, I was bullied. I also struggled with language difficulties. I remember the day I realized my teacher didn’t know what I was saying. I felt dumb in math class. We had fucking Spanish class too. And violin. I went to a bougie private Christian academy. I felt stupid. Dumb. Confused. I remained silent. I liked picture books because they could understand. My bully would take my book from me. I would tell. She would bully me more. I don’t know why she hated me so much.

Throughout elementary school (a new school) I was quiet and reserved. I isolated myself. Always scared to talk to teachers and friends. I made impulsive bad decisions and got in trouble sometimes. I don’t know how I got away with my parents never finding out.

I struggled in math. Well, I was better than most. But not good enough for my dad. In the third grade, I started pinching myself to punish myself for doing poor in math class.

I never told anyone that.

This is my first time telling anyone that.

Wow.

Then I began to draw pictures in my notebooks. They were pictures of someone saying “good job” and “I’m proud of you.” Maybe that’s all I wanted to hear.

I found an escape in my pretend world. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been artistic. I made up a story of a happy asian family. They were called the Ha’s. I drew pictures of them in my sketchbooks. This lead to my comic book business. I started it in the fourth grade. It was called onionville.

I was good at playing pretend. I was known to be “funny” and “weird” during middle school. I liked to act in skits. Everyone looked forward to them.

I could be someone else.

I was still scared though. Of people. And things.

Off stage, I was quiet.

My basketball coach yelled at me for never talking. “You know you have to talk in the adult world right.”

I cried at night by myself.

It was in middle school that I began to question the meaning of life. What was the point? Why do we exist? What is God? Who is God?

My childhood best friend... she understood. We questioned together.

I changed my favorite things to match her. I didn’t know it then. But I know now.

Her favorite color was purple? Mine too.

She read American girl books? Me too.

In the 7th grade she liked a boy. All she wanted to do was talk about him. Hang out with him.

I ignored her. Pushed her out of my life.

I couldn’t explain what I felt. I didn’t care.

At 14, I fell in love. Well, I thought I did. He treated me so well. He loved me. He was kind. He was sweet. He wrote me poetry.

Our first date... we lit lanterns and flew them across the American river. He loved me. He loved me.

He was 7 years older than me.

I woke up in a hospital. January 1, 2012. I was high and having a panic attack. I was throwing up.

There were police and investigators.

He went to jail. I went to psychiatry. My doctor reported my story to cps.

My mom cried.

My dad went to court.

They sold the house.

I still loved him... I thought?

He loved me... I thought?

Or did he take advantage of me? Was I groomed? Manipulated? Was I, was I, was I... molested?

I couldn’t think that. I wiped the thought. Full disssociative mode.

I was depressed.

I didn’t eat. I didn’t move. I didn’t touch my phone. I didn’t touch the computer. I just laid. I laid in bed and I laid.

I guess my parents got over the grieving and began to resent me. My mom called me a demon. My dad yelled at me for being upset. He said he wanted to leave our family.

I was depressed.

I cried randomly at school.

I almost got kicked off the basketball team.

I had a best friend then too... she started seeing my other ex best friend. I hated her for it but I didn’t know why.

I pushed her out of my life too.

I held my breath for two years. I punched the walls in my shower. I cried tears for myself. I asked God why I couldn’t die.

At 17, I entered my first relationship that wasn’t a relationship.

He was abusive and crazy. He was in a gang. He owns guns. He tried to kill himself.

But I loved him anyways.

He sent me pictures of him sleeping with other girls.

I loved him anyways.

It was in our crazy, fucked up, and together but not together relationship that I somehow found peace.

Finally, someone more volatile than me to understand. I didn’t care much if he slept with other girls. I still loved my ex. But I wanted someone else to love me too.

Anyways, this guy, He slept with other girls but he offered to fly me places. I never asked where he got so much money. I didn’t want to know.

It was long distance because he moved. I never agreed to see him. He hated me more for it. He’d cuss me out. Say I didn’t love him. Call my cheeks chubby. He’d tell me I was ugly. I looked dumb. I was stupid.

But that I’d love him anyways.

“It’s mine” he’d say. He’d laugh.

I started seeing other guys too. He didn’t really know. Sometimes he did. I didn’t care.

This carried on into college. I’d see/talk to/date whatever around four guys at a time. We’d never fuck. I was too scared. I didn’t want anyone to touch me.

But we all had intimate relationships. Some more than the other.

They’d say “I love you”.

And I’d say “thank you”.

They’d ask, “can I trust you.”

I’d say, “you shouldn’t.”

And then it happened. After three years. I met another guy. Whom I fell deeply in love with.

I tried fucking it up.

I tried sleeping with other people.

I tried seeing other people.

I tried cussing him out.

Throwing out his things.

“Fuck you. I hate you. don’t leave me.”

And it has been such a taxing three years.

I smoked everyday to numb my pain.

I started skipping class weeks at a time.

I don’t know how i passed. I don’t know how I graduated.

I started making good money. I got a job as a saleswoman.

I acquired a drug addiction. “It’s just to help me have energy for work.” I’d say.

at some point, I was doing it in the library at school. I did it in the bathrooms at work, by myself.

More than 5 times a week, for sure. Maybe everyday. I don’t know how many lines or bumps. I didn’t count. I didn’t want to know.

My counselor told me to go to substance abuse help. I said I would. I lied. I never went.

So I stopped seeing her too. I didn’t want her to know I was lying.

My friend had a gun in his car. I thought of where he kept it. I thought of how I could sneak in and grab it.

And then what? Do I shoot myself in his car?

My parents would hate me. My boyfriend would hate me. My friend would hate me.

I hated myself more.

I bought more 8 balls. I did them alone.

I have borderline personality disorder.

This has been my life.

I don’t do drugs anymore.

But I cry a lot. I think of dying a lot. I didn’t know I had this disorder until three months ago. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. I just know I suffer. This is my story. And that is all.

[trimitive]

I had to go to therapy for self harm and suicidal idealation while I was Unmedicated and without therapy for violent and prevalent trauma. They taught me more advanced communication skills in which I used to compromise my needs at school.

For the teachers that allowed me to take a walk around the school or go to the bathroom when I needed to, or let me scribble while listening during lessons, I got As. I even had teachers that were kind enough to let me do work in advance after school if they were already going to be there. My librarian let me lay down and have “quiet time” in the back room if I wasn’t coping in classes.

For the teachers that didn’t want to compromise, I did horribly. I couldn’t pay attention even when I was present because I needed that emotional mediation. I’d have mental breakdowns in class, uncontrolled due to my very unhealthy brain (just wrecked from trauma). I’d lost time with disssociative amnesia. I couldn’t take tests because I didn’t learn a single thing.

To the teachers willing to treat me like a human while I was still a literal child, thank you, because without you I wouldn’t have finished grade school and proceeded to become an extremely successful university student with a 4.0 and Bachelors.

Now I’m a teacher.

Controlled bathroom breaks are dumb, if I gotta go I gotta go! (x)

[depressket]

fuck I really want to hurt myself I'm disssociating and my head feels weird and I'm exhausted and it's almost 3 am and I hate myself

[the-traumaa]

I’m gonna complain here because I can’t express things in any other form except telling strangers

I’ll delete this later but I would rather broadcast to the world than hurt myself so have my life story:

Tw: self harm, drug use, dissociation, possible mental illness, alcohol, nicotine, abusive father, overdoses, suicidal thoughts, cocsa

Alright so I’ve really gone through it the past 4 months.

I developed a pill problem, broke up with my gf a week before prom because I realized I didn’t actually like her and I didn’t want to put her through my drug and mental health issues, had a depressive episode. Overdosed and had a seizure the day after prom and had to intricately lie to my mom who barely believes me. Fell when I overdosed and bashed my head on cement, got really bad whiplash and started the shift in my friend group which caused 50% of us to stop being friends. Blamed myself for everyone, felt like I shouldn’t be alive, felt suicidal and numb, apologizes for being alive, for almost dying, for scaring the people there. I reminded myself of my father who’s a heroin addict. He gave me a good amount of trauma from constant overdosing snd being high and emotionally abusive, I convinced myself I traumatized the people who witnessed it happen and was crying every few minutes. Couldn’t do anything without crying. Cut myself a ton. Felt really worthless and undeserving.

Never dealt with any of this, everyone just kinda forgot about it. Made a slightly new friend group, talked about it once or twice. Old friend who was horrible to me for years say I have no morals or life goals after I stopped talking to her. Just trying to live. Friend who gave me the pills told me I didn’t actually overdose and I was overreacting. While I was texting everyone convinced I was dying, she told me “get up and play uno with everyone!” All my friends are playing blame game and fighting and I just want to feel like I deserve to live. That never really went away.

Now I have cocsa trauma, drug addict father trauma, poverty trauma, and almost dying trauma. Fun, great.

Every time friends hang out without me because I’m working I genuinely convince myself they despise me and would rather do anything else than see me. Pick a suicide date, write suicide notes. Tuck them away for a later date. Smoke a lot of weed. Drink a lot of alcohol. Start smoking cigarettes with a friend. Steal your moms cigarettes. Start smoking alone because feeling sick is all you deserve. Smoke a cigarette just to go to sleep.

Develop a habit of viewing the world in a dreamy state. Logic brain knows this is real life but anxious brain thinks I’m in a dream or I’m watching a movie and no one can see me. Sit there, disssociate, panic. Convinced I’m dying and no one can see it. Fleeting thought that I schizophrenic and my mom paid everyone in my life to go with my delusions. Believe it. Fleeting thought that this is The Truman Show and everyone is pretending to love and care about me. Believe it.

Be so constantly tired that I fall asleep sitting up. Barely get through a six hour work day. Cry in front of the Boss. Cry in front of co workers. Tell your co workers about your overdose. Spend all your money the second you get it because you don’t see a future for yourself.

Realize that if you stay alive the rest of your life is going to be trying to break the cycle of poverty and you’ll have to work your ass off just to breathe. Cry in the car in front of your mom who calls you lazy. Felt numb for an entire week and decided to stop talking to friends because they matter too much and it hurts when they aren’t with you every second of every day. Understand that’s not possible but be overwhelmingly upset anyway. Accidentally express it with anger.

Work at a theatre camp. The kids put on a show every Friday. Invite friends because you’re proud of kids. Friend talks about how much they want to go and then ditch on Friday. Act understanding. Have an episode every time they ditch. They ditch four weeks in a row. There’s only six weeks of camp. Mom ditches.

Be a half hour late for work because your mother (who has started dating and leaves you alone every night to go sleep with her boyfriend) let your heroin addicted emotionally manipulative physically abusive homeless father sleep on your brothers bedroom floor and he overdosed even though the rule was no drugs in the apartment. Wake up to police and EMT’s in the House. Haven’t seen him since. That was five weeks ago. Blame yourself for his homelessness even though he spent all your families money on drugs and made you all homeless twice prior. He refuses to stop doing drugs and tells Social Services “I’ll see my kids when they’re 18.” Feel the pit in your stomach. Hear your mother talk shit with your aunt, who is your fathers drug dealer. Don’t understand how people can do that to their own family. Chold protective Services opens our case again. This is upwards of the 8th time.

Have your brother tell you that your Father hasn’t done anything to you because “he never hit you” Invalidate your own emotional abuse. Remember that he threw ty into a wall and would hold you down and scream an inch away from your face. Remover when he was high and tried to pee on your bed. Remember. Remember. Remember. Decide it’s best not to bring that up to a 12 year old. Go in your room and cry.

So, that’s who runs this account. Props to you in you read it. I’m struggling :/

[malcriada]

got through a work zoom meeting without disssociating too much (thanks fidget toys) and even managed to write a bit of protocol. no idea if any of it makes sense though

i wrote the vet because i wanted to know how p. was doing. she had to go back to the clinic yesterday because she wasn't eating and just sleeping and had developed a slight fever. it's probably (hopefully) a surgery-related infection and can be treated with antibiotics. i'm anxious as fuck and feel numb at the same time because of trauma-related reasons (my childhood cat died in june 10 years ago and it left a uh... lasting mark lol, so now i associate june with bad things and also am just a pessimistic bastard in general)

the good thing when i'm feeling like this is my need for constant distraction that can only be achieved by either going outside and buying groceries or by cleaning/other household activities. so yesterday i managed to sweep my floors and also clean some of my windows (that's an activity that takes a lot of spoons normally that's why i tend to procrastinate it). i don't really feel hunger or thirst so i can just work work work, as long as it doesn't require too much intellectual capacities bc those are shut down atm.

idek why i'm writing down all of this it's not like it even matters but i guess i'm doing it more for me than anyone else

constantly have to remind myself that a.) her surgery was a necessity because she had to have a cancerous growth removed, that b.) i did her aftercare as well as i could, c.) it was the right decision to bring her back to the clinic because i cannot give her the care she needs and d.) it's out of my hands now. i did everything i could and i am not to blame if she does die even though the possibility of that happening eats me up inside

i just want my baby back, healthy and happy like she used to be, yknow? i miss her.

[eunoiayugen-blog]

It’s kind of hard, being trapped inside your mind. Being trapped inside a body that your mind disssociates itself from. Mind and body are supposed to be harmonious but how can that be if your mind wants a 3 inch thigh gap, protruding collar bones, abs, a skinny waste, long hair, and tan skin. The disconnect kills. It eats away at my mind all the time.

I hate the way I look but my mouth stays shut. I’ve been down a self destructive path before and all people see is how weak I was and not how strong I am. I constantly am being accused of not eating.

I don’t really know what else to say or how to explain what I feel besides the fact that I feel disgust.

[shapelessnameless]

One way dissociation can manifest is when the subject can see themself in their mind as if they were an outsider observing the subject. And I've never had that experience in my whole disssociation career. But I wish I could do that, but like as a superpower. I would never want for a mirror again. I could put on music and switch to second person perspective and watch myself like in a movie. If I had telekinetic powers too I could use my second person perspective to direct myself with a levitating camera.