#it's not... *likely* but it's certainly not impossible with how my psychosis has manifested in the distant past.

[qweerhet]

i do also want to make a general PSA: the language of "failed men" and "failed women" as distinct gender categories referring to classes of people who have breached gender norms in a way that irrevocably disrupts their access to gender, particularly (but not exclusively) through transitioning or identifying with the "other" gender? that language has been in use in queer theory since at least the 90s.

it's so well-established that i cannot even begin to track down the initial coinage with a quick trip through google scholar. i'm finding publications in well-respected journals using the terminology dating back to the 90s just by scanning the first page of results. if you see someone claiming that transmisogynistic tumblr users made it up in 2023 to find a new way to sneakily call transfems men, they're just wrong, and in the worst case scenario, they're actively lying. if you have a fundamental problem with commonly-used basic transfeminist and queer theory terminology, take it up with the fucking university of chicago or something, idk, anything other than trying to convince 16-year-old trans people on tumblr dot edu that Big Transgender Blogging is intentionally lying to them about commonly accepted transfeminist theory.

[jasperjv]

I want to make it clear that I have nothing inherently against those with personality disorders, namely Cluster B. When I have said "cluster B bitch" in that context what I did mean is that their disorder manifested in ways that left deep emotional scars on me. I am under the impression that those with Cluster B PD are especially capable of and more often perpetuate specific and distinct types and patterns of abuse that others outside of the cluster would likely not.

I also know that it is hereditary (which is not necessarily genetic, see the scientific definition more precisely defined) and can have a sort of "contagious" effect. Hurt people hurt people. I know the people who scarred me are the way they are because of what they went through. In fact, their sob stories kept me on their hooks for so long.

But it is complex as anything with the mind is. I'd advise not preoccupy yourselves with some premonition that you WILL abuse someone, or that I think you will. The closest person to me has BPD, so at the very least that would make me a hypocrite. They have provided me with some much-needed insights and I understand that it can sometimes be a struggle against a worldview that can be literally delusional paranoia or persecution complex at times.

I am schizophrenic, so I know what a delusion is like. Most often they manifest as those occasional sneaking suspicions that in some way maladaptively help you preserve your emotional well-being, or deal with an unbearable reality in one way or another. This is where your responsibility comes in. This is the major place where my abusers have utterly failed.

The stress they put me under was one of the main factors to put me into my first bout of psychosis. I love intellectual stimulation, but I am still trying to learn how to acknowledge when people are just treating me like shit and when a conversation or debate is just not worth it, and leave. So hopefully you could understand why I might have reservations here and there around other people who desperately need help, whether they understand it themselves or not. I can't afford any toxicity in my life.

This last person who abused me had his own absurd and contradictory persecutory and superiority delusions that he twisted and contorted in incomprehensible shapes within his own warped mindscape that he refused to leave. His view of most people he ever spoke to would change week to week, day to day, even turn heel minute by minute.

When my psychosis finally triggered, I thought about all of that and tried so hard to understand his delusions and whiplash-inducing treatment of me. It prompted my mind to also twist and bend around them, until it broke and scattered shards in every direction.

I got my own delusions about it, incorporating some impossible supernatural shit, I guess partially because it was easier to think he really was a good person deep down who deserved everything my friends and I did to support him monetarily and emotionally and all the stress that out me under, that he had some benevolent reason to treat me that way, and that it was some kind of test or puzzle for me to solve. Maybe then I'd be treated like a human, or something.

But it wasn't. Delusions beget delusions. This is downright dangerous.

(He's not diagnosed with any personality disorder. He just calls it autism, solely. My therapist said it most certainly is not.)

I don't think anyone is anything "deep down." They are what they are. "Deep down" stuff is just gaslighting territory. I'm not an "egotist" "deep down" for any reason other than any way I may actually treat other people. And I've been nothing but selfless. Literally such a small ego (at its core, a self that is even worth preserving) that, in psychosis, I tried to get hit by a car for some greater good. If anything, I've been a doormat all my life. That's how I became enamored with a human piece of shit like that.

One of my delusions was that I was to be a human sacrifice to fix my broken family. This was just because it would give meaning to all of the unreasonable concessions and sacrifices I've made for them, especially regarding my queer identity.

Some form of an inflated sense of cosmic importance is a common delusion in psychosis. This does not betray an ego. It is meant to give meaning to the suffering we've endured in our lives. Psychosis entails the human mind's pattern-seeking and primal search for meaning to go into overdrive. The psychosis I am describing is not worth even a smidgen of moral judgement. It is just deep suffering and an expression of it; the mental equivalent of rending your clothing and crying out to God until your throat goes hoarse.

It's exposing. It's humiliating. Figuratively, it can be that much harder to get out of because you want to stay there in delusion: it's easier than seeing you are now in the streets naked, and everyone has seen you naked, screaming, you are so cold, life is unbearable. Now even more so because of what you have done. You feel like your life is over, and you did it to yourself.

It's very often triggered when a deeply loved one passes away.

We didn't really do anything.

I have lived my whole life with people treating me like shit and then playing the victim. For that reason I very much wanted to make sure I wasn't just doing that to other people. Maybe it was my fault, and then I might be able to change it. After all, we all make mistakes. Then I must have been making a fuck ton of mistakes for people to treat me so poorly all the time, right? So I'd do everything I could to take credit for as many shitty terrible things as possible. I didn't want to be another one of those people.

Yes, I was an enabler. Yes, I got in codependent relationships. But the hatred, even MORE hatred I got for that was so disproportionate and ESPECIALLY counterproductive. Not everyone responds to "tough love." I will not defend my "ego" against any onslaughts. Any attempts I'd make would easily be knocked down. This would give the other person the sense that they truly accomplished something by tipping over that cardboard facsimile.

I will just take it until I would be hopeless enough to do something dangerous, seen as my only way to make myself useful. Once that turned to psychosis, again as stated, I tried to get hit by a car. I sat in the middle of the road.

I thought I might be kidnapped. I didn't really care. I thought I'd be like one of those hitchhiking dummies that people carried around the country for cute photos, except I'd be the receptacle for all of the pain and abuse in the world. To do every awful thing imaginable to, subject to whims both bad and good. My existence would be a test to humanity. It would be grand and meaningful. I would finally matter by not mattering. The perfect fairy tale bookend that would make sense of everything and tie it all up in a bow, in my psychotic eye.

Maybe then, JUST maybe, as a favorable side-effect, he might change.

So yeah. The clash between mental illnesses can be a catastrophe. But I like to think I am not making too broad of generalizations.