#so please self diagnose without fear

[adhbabey]

At this point, unless you're aiming for specific accommodations, a self diagnosis is just as good as a professional diagnosis. I've been in several disability communities for years and being professionally diagnosed vs being self diagnosed has not changed the experience, like at all.

The only shit I get is from people who constantly invalidate others on a basis that you need to follow the rules in order to be seen as one of their own. And like, people who think being diagnosed as a child actually means anything in terms of the oppression you will face. I tried interacting with a group of diagnosed autistic people a while back and they discredited me for not having the exact same experience as them. And it's honestly fucking sad that you need to discredit another and go as far as to call it offensive when they seek support in a space they thought was meant to all people of that disorder. But it goes to show that it's not supportive unless people pay the membership fee of professional help, and that's an incredibly expensive fee to pay for a community that isn't inclusive. Therefore, it wasn't worth it in the first place.

In general, you will have virtually the same amount of ableism thrown your way as every other invisibly disabled person on the planet, with the added bonus of other random disabled people being ableist to you at the low, low cost of zero dollars.

So. I'd say self diagnosis is just as good, you just don't get the benefit of accommodations and you may incur some distain from ableist people in the community. Which is sarcastically fun, as I mean to say, it's fucking annoying, but yeah you'd probably experience the fakeclaiming regardless of whether or not you actually got diagnosed.

[drchucktingle]

It’s Carly Tingle’s big day, the release of her first traditionally published horror novel, Camp Damascus. Unfortunately, Carly’s having trouble enjoying this moment as fear and chaos begin to swirl around her. She wants the book to do well, of course, but it slowly becomes apparent there’s more to Carly’s ambition than meets the eye.

Things get clearer when Carly revisits an old erotica short she’d written, titled Eaten Right By The Physical Manifestation Of My Pride And Excitement That The Lead Character Of My First Traditionally Published Horror Novel Is On The Autism Spectrum Just Like Me. This sets off a chain of fourth-wall breaking events that will send Carly on an adventure unlike any other.

Now at the book shop, Carly will come face-to-face with the beautiful physical manifestation of her pride and excitement as an autistic artist, culminating in an erotic lesbian encounter that could inspire generations to come.

This erotic tale is 4,300 words of sizzling human on sentient physically manifested excitement in the form of a punctuation mark action and lesbian autistic pride love.

----

please enjoy EATEN RIGHT BY THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF MY PRIDE AND EXCITEMENT THAT THE LEAD CHARACTER OF MY FIRST TRADITIONALLY PUBLISHED HORROR NOVEL IS ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM JUST LIKE ME out now for free but asking for donation to AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK

MORE ABOUT THIS TINGLER:

hey there buckaroos i would like to use today to talk on something that is very important to me. i have talked a lot about my journey as a bud on the autism spectrum, and about how I LOVE BEING AUTISTIC.

my story on the spectrum is not a struggle. my way was diagnosed in early twenties, but because of way of masking VERY FEW BUCKAROOS WOULD EVEN NOTICE. it has given me ability to hyper focus and get large amounts of writing done, to find creative ideas neurotypical buds might miss, and to have a unique perspective on life on this timeline.

HOWEVER as man name of chuck my pride in this way used to make me uncomfortable, thinkin i should not share my story. there are many buds on this spectrum who have a MUCH harder time than chuck, and i want to respect the VERY IMPORTANT AND VERY REAL struggles of my fellow autistic buckaroos. for long time i did not feel like it was my place to share and say ‘personally, i wouldnt change my autistic trot for anything. i think being autistic is very cool’

but as tingleverse got more fans and buckaroos started listening to my words more i started thinking: THIS is an opportunity to prove love. part of the reason i am PROUD of my spectrum way is because FIRST INTERACTION with idea of this trot (was called aspergers way back then) was to realize that ALL MY HEROS were on this spectrum: david byrne of band TALKING HEADS being number one.

my FIRST INTERACTION with this idea was not ‘whoa this is tragic’ it was ‘whoa the coolest buckaroo on the PLANET is the same as me’

POINT IS i have been on this timeline a while now and now i am in this position myself. i can be the one buckaroos see when they learn this about themselves and think: WOW LOOK AT THIS WILD ARTIST I ADMIRE BREAKING THE NORMS AND CHARTING A NEW TROT THROUGH THIS TIMELINE WE ARE BOTH AUTISTIC THIS IS THE HECKIN COOLEST

most of the characters i write are probably a little on the spectrum because they are comin from inside chucks head. i look back and notice this and laugh, but other than a single tingler i rare actually OUTRIGHT SAY this character is autistic. i decided that FIRST BIG HORROR NOVEL WITH A TRADITIONAL PUBLISHER was a good time to change this. while i write erotica most of the time which means NO YOUNG BUCKAROOS ALLOWED, horror is a little different. buckaroos young and old can read CAMP DAMASCUS and think ‘i see myself in this autistic hero and I FEEL COOL’

EVEN WRITING THIS NOW makes me get teary eyed and emotional, because these feelings of belonging and positive representation were SO IMPORTANT to me. i would not be trotting here without these autistic heroes, and now i have been given the chance to create one of my own with CAMP DAMASCUS and WITH MYSELF just by being chuck and talking openly about my joyful, exciting, artistic trot on the spectrum.

WITH ALL OF THIS IN MIND i am releasing a brand new tingler called EATEN RIGHT BY THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF MY PRIDE AND EXCITEMENT THAT THE LEAD CHARACTER OF MY FIRST TRADITIONALLY PUBLISHED HORROR NOVEL IS ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM JUST LIKE ME for free. HOWEVER i am requesting that if you choose to read you send your three dollars (or whatever donation you would like) to the AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK. this way 100 percent of all profits will go to them. (WARNING this is actual erotica so no young buckaroos allowed for this one).

all ages (who are old enough to read horror) can preorder CAMP DAMASCUS at any bookstore. i also have a tingler name of NOT POUNDED BY THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF SOMEONE ELSE'S DOUBT IN MY PLACE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM BECAUSE DENYING SOMEONE'S PERSONAL JOURNEY AND IDENTITY LIKE THAT IS INCREDIBLY RUDE SO NO THANKS that is pound free so all ages can read so check that out if you would like.

thank you for blessing me with a space to explore these ideas. i am so thankful to be here with you and you have treated me so well. i am eternally grateful for our tort together and look forward to the future we craft on this timeline.

LOVE IS REAL - chuck

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

frankly super uncomfortable have “neurodiversity affirming” (now use as meaningless buzzword but demand be treat as this radical thing) be associate with “nonspeaking not nonverbal put/ nonspeaking right nonverbal ableist wrong” so hard two become synonymous. be treat as, only way be neurodiversity affirming is say nonspeaking & never say nonverbal. that MUST only ever say nonspeaking to be neurodiversity affirming. that say nonverbal put you exact same equally as bad as ableist oppressor power holders who actively not give & deny & exclude people who not able mouth speak education & rights & autonomy & humanity.

really have nothing unreasonable or bias against apraxic nonspeakers, or term nonspeaking. really don’t. really do believe they have valuable thing to say n important listen.

but it get really really tiring, n traumatic (not use this word lightly), be constantly screamed at, cursed at, insulted, mocked, called names, doubted, disbelieved, fake claimed, abused because dare casually call self nonverbal without go on 1000 word essay on why (& often times even with that 1000 word essay), phd dissertation on history of these two terms n definitions n histories n uses. to point of every time be outside circle of people who willing understand me (person with cognitive & language disability), severe anxiety & fear & post-traumatic stress spiral of, “can say am nonverbal? should? that get me strangers abuse? should preemptively explain? carefully word it? more detail. more detail.” over one of my most important identity & label. even simple “am nonverbal not nonspeaking” invite people (group that famously describe self as literal & not read into subtext) accusatory question me “why you ableist piece of shit distance self from nonspeaking people, you clearly think people who not able mouth speak incompetent” not expecting answer, because they already made up one for me, already spoke for me, a person who not mouth speak (& struggle w overall communication) they claim advocate for.

n same time cannot pretend that term nonspeaking, nonspeaking advocacy from many nonspeakers, & nonspeaking advocacy from not-nonspeakers, so closely tied with ableism by action of people who use it that it become part of definition, defining pillar of activism. cannot pretend “am just can’t speak but my mind intact (am very intelligent can write just fine)” is value neutral not-ableist sentence. cannot pretend all that ableism against people with intellectual disability (yes, people w correctly diagnosed ID exist) & people with language disorder not exist.

if you can’t separate term nonverbal from it’s ableist misuse history, you not get to have problem with me refuse call self nonspeaking because how so many people use ableism to fundamentally define it. n unlike you, at least am able recognize term nonspeaking, neutral.

am super uncomfortable with “neurodiversity affirming” when one pillar of it is define me out of existence n label me n people who support me as ableist & same amount of evil as my oppressors. is to use me as scapegoat. scapegoat for other people trauma while create trauma for me. whose neurodiversity we affirming?

“nothing about us without us” who the second us? is it actually us, or do you just mean you?

“language important” so “say nonspeaking not nonverbal FOR ALL” but when am push back against it ask be personally called nonverbal ask not use term nonverbal as scapegoat ask please not demonize term nonverbal, suddenly am “too hang up on semantics” and “there real oppression other than argue over online terms” (as if be denied literal actively barred kicked out from community isn’t one) and “can’t speak for everyone”

when these people the one with platform and ability, shaping public views, shaping assistive tech and therapies that am need, even advocating to shape & shaping policies n legislatures.

sure do hope am included in those.

[nonverbal = not able mouth speak. all the time only. not by choice. not sometimes. not temporary. not episode. not “go nonverbal.”]

[topguncortez]

A Brain on Fire || Whumptober Day 8 - B. Bradshaw

whumptober masterlist || whumptober taglist

synopsis: ever since Bradley was little he struggled to keep things in order and keep the voices in his head at bay. One day, the voices get too loud and Bradley misses the biggest day of your career.

word count: 2.8k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: panic attack

warnings: mental illness, OCD, panic attacks, mentions of self harm, cursing, mentions of sexism, tears.

For as long as Bradley could remember, he always had trouble with his thoughts. He could remember the first time the voices in his head became too loud. He had been in the grocery store with his mom, Carole. Bradley might’ve been about five at the time, just getting ready to start kindergarten. That day had started off like every other day, Carole made him breakfast; strawberry pancakes with peanut butter. She helped him get dressed and combed his brown hair. Everything seemed fine, except Bradley couldn’t turn off the voice in his head. 

He had tried to fight it as he went and played next door with the neighbors. But the voice was too loud, counting every single step that Bradley would take. He would count to ten in his head, and start over back at zero. It had been going on for hours until Bradley in the middle of the grocery store started to cry and tug at his hair. Carole’s blue eyes widened in fright as she watched her son have a breakdown. 

“I can’t stop counting! I can’t stop! Make it stop!” 

Since that day, Bradley learned ways to keep the voices in his head at bay. The doctor had diagnosed him with OCD. He learned that his mind was an unorganized but organized control center. Working at it’s own pace, doing its own thing. Everything he did had a certain methodical movement to it. He had to be in control of everything at all times, or the voices would start to get loud again. Even the slightest thing out of order would send him into a spiral, and he would start counting, over and over and over. 

But then Bradley found you. 

You were the sort of thing that Bradley had feared welcoming into his life. You were a hurricane, literally, your callsign was Hurricane. You were unorganized and loud. You flew by the seat of your pants. Most days you woke up without a single plan for your day, tossing on whatever flight suit was found on your floor and didn’t smell too awful. You were always running into work at the last minute, coffee spilling over your hand, and way too many notebooks and pencils. 

Bradley hated you at first. He hated how someone so pretty and alluring, could be so messy and out of order. But it worked for you. And eventually, Bradley got used to it. He got used to your organized chaos crashing with his. You were the sort of thrill and release his therapist had told him to find. 

Your relationship started off slow, and steady. Coffee dates at the same coffee shop, at the same table, at the same time on the same day of the week. Then it moved to dinner dates, at the same restaurant, at the same table at the same time on the same day of the week. You knew that Bradley was meticulously organized, but you didn’t know how bad it was until he invited you over the first time. You had kicked your shoes off, leaving them scattered on the mat, which Bradley had to promptly fix. There was not a single thing out of place in his house. 

“Bradley, if I went like this,�� You tilted a frame that was on his wall, “Does it make you-” 

“Mad? Yes,” Bradley huffed and fixed the picture frame promptly, “I don’t like things out of order.” 

You nodded and titled the frame again. Bradley reached out to fix it, but you grabbed his hand. He felt his heart beating erratically as you squeezed his hand. 

“Y/N,” Bradley pleaded, hearing the voices in his head get louder and louder, “I really like you. . . But I need to fix this,” You looked at his brown eyes began to turn glassy, “Please.” It broke your heart to hear him sound so pitiful. You let go of his hand and he quickly fixed the frame. 

Since that night, the two of you learned to live with Bradley’s OCD. You had learned to be a little more organized, and Bradley had learned to be a little unorganized. He would still have his days where he would wake up and scrub the whole house from top to bottom, but it stopped being a weekly task. You had learned to pick up on the tells when the voices in Bradley’s head got too loud and he started counting. He had only had one serious breakdown which led to both of you in tears and you calling Phoenix in fear for Bradley’s life. 

But as smooth as things had been, they were headed towards the tipping point. Both you and Bradley could feel it, but you did your best to ignore it. . . or brace for the storm. 

Bradley had woken up feeling off. He had the day off, which was an unusual occurrence, but he still went about his day as normal. Waking up at 5:30 AM and rolling out of bed to start making coffee, before waking you up at 5:45 on the dot. He showered with you, like normal, making sure to wash your hair thoroughly. He laid out your khakis and packed your flight suit in your duffle bag while you did your hair. Bradley then made his way downstairs to start making breakfast. Normally, you trudged down the stairs, sleep still in your eyes, but today, you came running down, a bright smile on your face. 

“Good morning, love,” You said in a sing-song voice. You kissed Bradley’s cheek as you reached for the coffee

“Morning, honey,” Bradley answered back, “What’s got you so happy at 6:30 in the morning?”

“I can’t be happy this early in the morning?” You smiled, “I gotta run, I got a really busy day today,” You said, grabbing the bagel and coffee Bradley had prepared for you, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Bradley nodded and kissed you goodbye as you ran out the door, shouting an “I love you” over your shoulder. Bradley sighed, running a hand down his face. He closed his eyes, trying to think through his usual “Day Off” tasks, but for some reason, he couldn’t keep a coherent train of thought. Everything thing he thought of was cut off by numbers. He clenched his jaw and downed the rest of his coffee, before heading upstairs to his home office. 

“One, two, three, four,” Bradley counted as he walked. His heartbeat picked up as he shook his head, trying to stop the counting in his head. 

Bradley wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at his computer screen. He wanted to smash it to pieces as his brain just kept counting to ten over and over as he tried to work on flight plans. It had taken you over two hours to write a half-assed 2-paragraph email to Admiral Simpson, apologizing for not getting the plans in on time. Bradley closed his laptop and walked down the hall to the empty bedroom, that you had dubbed the meditation room. It was the one room in the house that didn’t have a single thing in it. It was a completely bare room, that was supposed to be a place where Bradley could just sit in silence and gather his thoughts. 

Tears started to roll down Bradley’s cheeks as he lay down on the hardwood floor, staring up at the ceiling. You had taken the ceiling fan out a couple of weeks ago after Bradley told you the blades weren’t helping him. Even stationary, Bradley’s mind conjured up the image of them spinning around and he felt like he had to count the rotations. Bradley closed his eyes, trying to regain control over his breathing, as he felt his heart trying to break out of his chest. He turned on his side, bringing his knees up to his chest, burying his head, and holding his hands over his ears. 

“Go away. . . Go away!” Bradley yelled. His body was beginning to feel weak. His muscles felt like stone as he lay on the floor, silently counting to himself, “One, two, three, four. . .”

--------------------------

You had probably checked your watch for the 10 thousandth time that hour. You turned in your seat to look around the hangar. The dagger squad, Admiral Simpson, and Admiral Bates were all waiting for the promotion ceremony to start. Phoenix had even gone as far as to call your parents via Facetime. You kept pushing back as much as you could, saying that Bradley was probably just running late, but everyone knew that Bradley Bradshaw didn’t run late. He was painfully on-time for everything.

“Cane,” Hangman said, a sad look on his face, “Admiral Simpson is getting grumpy. He’s not coming.”

You looked over to where Admiral Simpson was, checking his watch and huffing out a breath. You looked down at the shiny gold pins in your hand. You held your hand out towards Jake, silently asking him to take them. And he did, giving you a sad smile. 

“Bob is gonna take a video,” Hangman said, “And you know how Fanboy is with pictures.”

You bit your lip and shook your head, “I texted him this morning. I don’t. . . He wouldn’t have forgotten something like this.” 

“I can go have Mav try and call-”

“Don’t,” You said, taking a deep breath, “It’s fine. Let’s get this done.”

You didn’t ever show his emotions, usually being the calm one of the group, but Jake could see the complete hurt on your face. You walked to the back of the hangar where Maverick and Admiral Simpson stood. Both men looked at you and all you could do was nod, terrified if you opened your mouth you would start crying. Admiral Bates called the hangar to attention as the three of you walked in formation to the front of the hangar. Jake stood off to the side, giving you a thumbs-up and a smile. 

“Take seats,” Admiral Bates said to the aviators, “Welcome friends, family, and aviators to the promotion of Lieutenant Commander Y/N Hurricane L/N to Captain of VFA 334 Daggers. This is history in the making as the first female Captain of the Daggers.” 

You didn’t stick around long after the promotion ceremony ended. Hangman had convinced you to stick around for a piece of cake, but you only ate half of it, not feeling well enough to eat the sugary treat. You said goodbye to everyone and went straight home. You had called Bradley as soon as you got into your car, but it went straight to voicemail, again. Worry filled your body as you drove home. But the moment you arrived in the driveway, the worry faded into anger. You slammed your car door and marched into the house. The sound of Elton John’s “Philidelphia Freedom” was blaring through the speakers as Rooster stood over the stove. You slammed your keys down on the island, startling him from his cooking trance. 

“Oh! Hey! Your home!” Bradley said, putting on a fake smile.

“What the hell is all this?” You asked, looking around at the various ingredients all over the kitchen.

“I- uh, I wanted to try something?” Bradley said nervously.

“You wanted to try something? You wanted to- is this what was so fucking important that you turned your phone off?”

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and noticed that he had turned it off at some point, probably when he went into the meditation room, “I’m sorry I just-“

“You missed it,”

“Missed what?”

You let out a short breath, “Forget it, just like you forget everything else. I knew you were upset that I put a packet in but I didn’t know it would be like this. Here, find a place for this to go,” You set down your promotion award on the counter in front of you and stormed out of the kitchen. 

Bradley felt like someone had cut off his air supply as he looked at the words printed on the award. His frantic eyes looked over at the fridge, where a calendar hung, and in his meticulous handwriting read: “Y/N Promotion!!!” 

“Oh my god,” Bradley cried, crumbling down to the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest, letting the tears and short breaths escape his mouth. You had worked hard to get this promotion, beating out not only him and Hangman, but other aviators who had applied for it. You would never admit it, but it meant everything to you to even be considered for the spot. . . that was something indescribable. How the hell could Bradley forget something so important? How could Bradley just completely ignore it too? When he turned his phone on, he was bombarded with texts and missed call notifications. Everyone had texted him, from Natasha and Hangman to Maverick.

‘Hangman: where are you?’

‘Dude, Y/N keeps trying to stall. Where are you?’

‘Are you okay?’

‘We’re starting to get worried. . .’

‘I swear to god if you’re sleeping. . .’

‘You missed the promotion. Y/N is on his way home. . . she’s devastated’

Tears clogged his vision at the last text. Bradley’s heart felt like it shattered reading the world ‘devastated’. Bradley had tried to always be there for you. He knew that it was hard to be a female in the aviator world. He had heard the gossip about you and his relationship, and he never wanted you to feel like you had to hold yourself back from being the best that you could be. And the one time that you needed him the most, Bradley hadn’t shown up. Bradley didn’t even know what to do, so he just sat on the kitchen floor and cried.

----------------------

The second you were in the comfort of your bedroom, you shed off your khakis. The material felt stiffer than normal against your skin. Your hair felt tighter too, and a headache began to form. You tossed your shirt into the hamper, leaving you just in your white tank top and pants. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you walked to the bathroom. 

You weren’t sure what to think. You were heartbroken and angry. You knew that Rooster was eyeing the captain spot. Hell, even as you filled out the packet, you were wondering if you were doing the right thing. Rooster not only had years to your senior, but he had more experience and more awards. But Rooster had been your biggest cheerleader the whole time. He had been so proud of you when you had made it to the interview part, beating him and Hangman out. You thought it was genuine, but now you were second-guessing. 

You shook your head as you reached behind your head, starting to take out the pins that were holding your bun together. It was then that you noticed that on Rooster’s side of the sink, everything was slightly out of order. His toothbrush was lying next to the sink and not in the usual holder. He didn’t put the cap back on his cologne. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stepped back into the bathroom and noticed that the bad wasn’t made and that his clothes from last night were strewn across the floor. 

Realization hit you like a freight train as you ran down the stairs. You should’ve noticed it this morning when Bradley was wearing mismatched socks, or this afternoon when he answered back with a one-word text, or when you came home to the kitchen in complete disarray. You quickly made your way downstairs,  to find Bradley now scrubbing the kitchen floors. All the cooking stuff was put away, and everything was tidied up again.

“B. . .” You whispered.

“One, two, three, four. . ..”

“B, it’s late,” You said trying to reason with him, “Come on, we can clean the kitchen tomorrow.”

“Five, six, seven. . .” 

“Bradley,” You knelt down on the floor in front of him. 

“Eight, nine. . .” 

“Bradley,” You grabbed his face in your hands. Your heart broke at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and pink cheeks. 

“Ten. One, two, three-” You cut him off by hugging him tightly. You brought his head to your chest, and he closed his eyes tightly, still counting softly, “Four, five, six. . .” 

“It’s okay,” You shush him. You felt his body tremble as numbers mixed with sobs escaped his mouth until the crying completely took over. 

“I can’t stop,” Bradley cried, “I can’t stop counting. I’m so sorry.”

You rubbed his back, and placed a kiss on the top of his head, “It’s okay, Bradley. It’ll be okay.” 

“It’s not okay,” Bradley shook his head. You pulled back from him, holding his face in your hands again. You wiped away the falling tears with your thumb, as he grasped your wrists, running his thumb over the pulse point. 

“You’re right, it’s not okay. You forgot something important, and it hurts,” You said, “But you also hid the fact that you are struggling right now. I told you from day one, to never hide how you’re feeling from me. If I had known, I would’ve come home. I guess I was more worried that something was wrong than angry at you for not being there.”

“Please, please forgive me?” Bradley asked through his tears.

“I forgive you, I’ll always forgive you,”

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @topgun-imagines @sarahsmi13s @xoxabs88xox @cassiemitchell @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17 @cornylovers

[astroyongie]

Hey gurl, can i request a tbz members as serial killers please? 😄

I already did the fanart for changmin and need some inspiration for the other members please? 🙏😄

Thx 🩷

The Boyz as Serial Killers TW AHEAD!

-> Changmin: https://astroyongie.tumblr.com/search/changmin

Sangyeon

Psychological Profile: diagnosed with Schizotypal Personality Disorder Snageyon has odd beliefs about life. He believes to be the one and only chosen of the gods to eradicate the evil people in earth, which makes him have certain traits like eccentric behavior and distorted perceptions could play a role in his criminal thinking.

Modes: Sangyeon uses poison to kill his victims slowly and covertly. It allows him to distance himself from the act while still having full control over his victim's death. Each time he finds a victim he judges as bad and corrupt he gets close to them before poisoning them. The press calls him the "Poison Rose" a poetic, sinister name. "Rose" because it implies beauty, because his victims bleed from their eyes and nose, often making rose patterns on their skin through the blood vessels

Jacob

Psychological Profile: He was diagnosed with Avoidant Personality Disorder so Jacob has an extreme feelings of inadequacy and a strong fear of rejection and criticism which has contributed to his isolated and deviant behaviors. Jacob is scared of people and he usually kills only the people who try to get close to him as defensive act of protecting himself.

Modes: he uses strangulation to kill his victims because it allows for control from them not leaving him. Jacob kept all his victims in his basement so they would never really leave him. He was named as the Velvet Strangler, the word "velvet" implying a deceptive, soft approach, masking the violence behind a façade of elegance.

Younghoon

Psychological Profile: diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder younghoon has intense emotional instability, fear of abandonment, and impulsive actions. he hasn't killed many and all of his victims were done through engaging in extreme behaviors when he was feeling emotionally rejected by his love partners. Younghoon wanted them so badly, that he ended up consuming some flesh as well.

Modes: Younghoon was meticulous but he was quick and he delivered his victims a quick death by a shot with a gun.He was named the "The Vanishing Executioner" because he was exceptionally hard to catch, leaving behind little to no trace, this name conjures an image of someone who delivers swift death and then disappears without a trace. Only one of his victim was found so far

Hyunjae

Psychological Profile: diagnosed with Dependent Personality Disorder Hyunjae shows an extreme need to be taken care of, leading to clingy behavior and fear of abandonment. Hyunjae swears he was manipulated into participating in crimes, including the murders he was accused of. No one has ever found the "dominant" partner he had and he is too loyal to open his mouth as well.

Modes: Hyunjae used to burn his victims alive, a method he used as a sadistic way of prolonging suffering to his victims who he believed being hurtful to his Dominant. The carbonized corpses were left in the forest as reminders of status, as a proof of love he had for his Dominant. the media started to call him "The Wolf in Silk" as an analogy of his sweet demeanor compared to the violent crimes he has doing for this "dominant".

Juyeon

Psychological Profile: diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder juyeon has an inflated sense of self-importance, a need for admiration, and a lack of empathy for others. he was believing that he was superior and untouchable. He would kill his victims who refused to see him for who he was. his victims were aleatory tho, from friends, lovers and strangers who refused to bow to him.

Modes: Juyeon would use asphyxiation and the police have retraced him using gas or carbon monoxide exposure for people he considered his enemies, choking for people who stopped loving him, and chemical asphyxiants to kill the victim who had refused to see him as his grandeur. "The Black Widowmaker" was the name given to him, from the amount of people he left widowed

Kevin

Psychological Profile: diagnosed with Schizoid Personality Disorder Kevin has an emotional detachment, a lack of desire for close relationships, and a preference for solitary activities. he shows an inability to form meaningful emotional connections, which can manifest in cold, detached violence. His victims were random chose, but he would always go on killing sprees, once in two weeks to satisfy his desire of "seeing life depart"

Modes: named as the "The Midnight Stalker" since he would hunt at late hours, invoking fear around the night. This name creates an image of someone who lurks in the darkness, hunting silently. Kevin would kidnap and torture his victims depending on his current mood, however one thing was clear, they all ended up dying through drowning. it was methodical way to kill, to simulate a sense of helplessness in his victims.

Chanhee

Psychological Profile: diagnosed with Histrionic Personality Disorder chanhee needs a constant need for attention, emotional excess, and dramatic behavior.He only killed to seek attention and thrill from his crimes, enjoying the public notoriety that comes with their actions. To him all of this has been but a game that he was happy to indulge until the police caught him

Modes: Chanhee killed all his victims with a heavy hammer. Blunt force trauma, causing by hitting the victim as he enjoyed the physical dominance and control it gave him over his victims. He was named as the "The Phantom Butcher" since his victims head was so severely mutilated that they were always barely recognized

Haknyeon

Psychological Profile: Diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder Haknhyeo suffers from extreme perfectionism, orderliness, and control. his plans were meticulously and he would control his murders, displaying traits like obsession with detail and rigidity in their behavior. Every mruder was exactly the same. victims all looked the same, the mobile was the same, and the bodies were always displayed in the same so no copycat would ever do the same as him. to Haknyeon, his killings were art and a necessity to ease the inner demons

Modes: he would stab his victims, in such a specific way that he was named the "The Smiling Slasher" as he would always leave his victims with a twisted, unsettling smile cut in their face. The stabs were alway the same, pre-mortem the heart, with the smile as post-mortem followed with fingers cut, throat, ears and sternum.

Sunwoo

Psychological Profile: diagnosed with Paranoid Personality Disorder Sunoco has a pervasive distrust and suspicion of others. he believed that others are plotting against him, which would fuel violent and aggressive behavior in response to imagined threats. To Sunwoo he was only defending himself.

Modes: He was called the "The Crimson Reaper" because Sunwoo would pick his victims aleatory since it all came from his imagination. he would suffocate them by using a plastic bag around their head. Sunwoo would then suspend his victims and bath in their blood as a ritual of "casting the evil spits away from him."

Eric

Psychological Profile: diagnosed with Sadistic Personality Disorder which involved Erik having a deriving pleasure from the suffering of others. He would torture and prolong his victims' pain for personal satisfaction since to him it was funny to do such things.

Modes: Eric was a medicine student in university when he started to kill mostly homeless people so no one would care for them. he would use both dissection on his victims for a while (keeping them alive as he studied their bodies alive) and dismemberment to dispose of the bodies once dead to fulfill his sadistic tendencies. "The Shadow Surgeon" for the killer who dissects and operates with precision

[salti-thelatediagnosedautist]

I am personally 100% for a shitty self diagnosis.

A shitty self diagnosis is usually the predecessor to a fairly accurate self diagnosis.

For me, I didn't think I could possibly have autism because of the stereotypical traits listed (I first started researching in 2013 when most sources were based on children, and not relatable at all to a teenager). So I actually thought I must be bipolar! That was a shitty self diagnosis, but it then later on led to a self diagnosis of autism, which has now become a professional diagnosis of autism.

I honestly hate that there is any dislike to self diagnosis at all... to me it doesn't make sense. Unless you suspect something is "wrong" with you, it's very unlikely you'll just happen to end up in front a psychiatrist or psychologist getting diagnosed. And even if you do it's much less likely that they'll diagnose you with autism unless you have already self diagnosed it.

Lets say someone self diagnoses autism without learning much about it. They just saw a few tiktoks that resonated with them and they went for it.

Here's my thought process.

They are going to continue learning about autism, great!

This means if they don't have autism, they will likely become a lot more empathetic to people with autism. That's awesome!

If they do have autism, that's great too! Another correct self diagnosis, yippee! (This is the more likely outcome BTW! It's fairly uncommon for people to think they are autistic for no reason...)

Or the third outcome is, self diagnosing with autism wasn't correct, but it lead to a correct self diagnosis of ADHD or something else. Great for them!

Here's a second scenario. Someone does a shitty autism self diagnosis. They then see a bunch of posts and comments about how you need to really deeply and responsibly research autism for your self diagnosis to be valid. Or even a bunch of people directly comment that to them.

Then here's my thought process with that scenario.

The person is actually autistic but gets scared out of self diagnosing because they worry they can never research enough. They become indecisive and it takes them much much longer to be able to self diagnose because of fear and gate-keeping.

The person isn't autistic and feels discouraged from doing research towards any self diagnosis. They feel isolated and misunderstood. They get upset that they have been rejected by yet another community.

Now, listen. I know that for us autistic people it can feel like we are being attacked on all sides and that bad self diagnosis is just another way we are being misunderstood. But the thing is, from my POV, professional diagnosis is honestly not much better. At all. Doctors have trouble correctly diagnosing physical conditions, let alone mental ones. Most doctors I've been too couldn't even diagnose a rash. It's honestly sad how useless they can be sometimes.

A self diagnosis is key to finding your correct diagnosis also. Without self diagnosis many people won't have ANY diagnosis ever.

A lot of people with a shitty self diagnosis are also often teens. Lost, confused, misunderstood teenagers. And people who self-diagnose mental conditions are often neurodivergent in one way or another. Whether it be autism, ADHD, depression, we should be accepting them all the same. We are all fighting very similar fights.

Now for my big POV - we can't actually truly determine whether someone has an accurate self diagnosis. We are autistic people, but we can't diagnose other autistics. Pretending that we can is a dangerous game to play. Autism can present extremely differently person-to-person. It's important that we don't forget that.

Basically, I understand that it feel frustrating seeing so many people self diagnosis with autism without much research. But please, even if you disagree with me, at least remember to be KIND.

[circus-complex]

A Study on Luo Binghe: Borderline Personality Disorder

Rating: General

Characters: Luo Binghe

Tags: Meta, Character Study

A look at Luo Binghe with the Borderline Personality Disorder Diagnostic Criteria

Also on AO3

Full work under the cut

Disclaimer: I am in no way a medical professional. I am also aware we see Luo Binghe through oddly-tinted glasses due to Shen Yuan’s perspective. I am not diagnosing Luo Binghe with BPD, but as I was reading through SVSSS, I noticed a lot of symptoms. Additionally, I am looking at Luo Bing-mei.

First off: What is Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)? Borderline Personality Disorder is a disorder that - as the name suggests - affects a person's personality and their interactions with others. One of the pages from Mayo Clinic states it “includes a pattern of unstable, intense relationships, as well as impulsiveness and an unhealthy way of seeing themselves.” (Mayo Clinic Staff, January 31 2024).

What causes BPD? While there have not been concrete reasons found yet, “studies suggest that genetic, environmental, and social factors may increase the risk of developing it.” (National Institute of Mental Health, April 2024). If family members have it, you may be at a higher risk of developing it. Childhood trauma, such as experiencing continuous abandonment and hardship, may be a factor.

While researching for this essay, I wound up finding a reddit post that talked about specific examples where Luo Binghe exhibited symptoms of BPD. The post will be linked at the end (with my other sources), they did the hard work for me.

So, what are the symptoms of BPD? Glad you asked!

A strong fear of abandonment. This includes going to extreme measures so you're not separated or rejected, even if these fears are made up.

Luo Binghe has shown an intense fear of Shen Qingqiu leaving him. Whenever Shen Qingqiu seems even the slightest bit annoyed with Luo Binghe, he breaks into tears. Shen Qingqiu could be serious or not, but Luo Binghe always interprets it as “He will leave me”.

A pattern of unstable, intense relationships, such as believing someone is perfect one moment and then suddenly believing the person doesn't care enough or is cruel.

Luo Binghe has very few friends, with only Mobei-Jun and Sha Hualing, and they are his subordinates. While he is close with Shen Qingqiu, he goes from seemingly hating him to loving and adoring him. Plus, he needs constant reassurance that Shen Qingqiu still loves him.

While I would not say Luo Binghe’s self image is reliant on Shen Qingqiu’s opinion, it does seem that way sometimes.

Periods of stress-related paranoia and loss of contact with reality. These periods can last from a few minutes to a few hours.

While these sorts of periods have never been explicitly mentioned, the scene with Xin Mo could be interpreted as such. Yes, it was an evil sword, but I see Xin Mo as just…making the feelings worse

Impulsive and risky behavior, such as gambling, dangerous driving, unsafe sex, spending sprees, binge eating, drug misuse, or sabotaging success by suddenly quitting a good job or ending a positive relationship.

This is one of the symptoms that I do not remember Luo Binghe showing. Please tell me if he does.

Threats of suicide or self-injury, often in response to fears of separation or rejection. Quick changes in how you see yourself. This includes shifting goals and values, as well as seeing yourself as bad or as if you don't exist. Ongoing feelings of emptiness.

While Luo Binghe does not explicitly threaten suicide/self harm (that I remember), he does exhibit behavior similar to that. He has an attitude of “I will do anything to keep Shizun by my side” Additionally, his self worth seems to hinge of Shen Qingqiu’s opinion at times. He also allows Shen Qingqiu to harm him during the abyss scene without defending himself when he could have.

Wide mood swings that last from a few hours to a few days. These mood swings can include periods of being very happy, irritable or anxious, or feeling shame. Inappropriate, strong anger, such as losing your temper often, being sarcastic or bitter, or physically fighting.

Again, Luo Binghe goes from very happy to very angry quickly. He lashes out at Shen Qingqiu, like when he forced him to drink his blood.

Overall, Luo Binghe exhibits a lot of BPD symptoms. However, since the story is not set from his point of view - nor is he real - we cannot diagnose him or look at his own internal motivations. If you have any thoughts, please let me know!

Bibliography

Mayo Clinic Staff. "Borderline Personality Disorder." Mayo Clinic. Last modified January 31, 2024. Accessed June 10, 2024. https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/borderline-personality-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20370237.

National Alliance on Mental Health. "Borderline Personality Disorder." National Alliance on Mental Health. Last modified April 2023. Accessed June 11, 2024. https://www.nami.org/About-Mental-Illness/Mental-Health-Conditions/Borderline-Personality-Disorder/.

National Institute of Mental Health. "Borderline Personality Disorder." National Institute of Mental Health. Last modified April 2024. Accessed June 10, 2024. https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/borderline-personality-disorder.

Reddit. Last modified 2021. Accessed July 3, 2024. https://www.reddit.com/r/ScumbagSystem/comments/lpfb7f/comment/gobdt33/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button.

[catdemontraphouse]

Ok I wanna have an autistic moment about triangle man if that’s okay. This is just my own opinion clouded by my own biases, but yknow

Guys please how do I do “read more” on mobile so I don’t kill peoples braincells with my crappy essay?!

————————-

Seems pretty obvious to me that Bill Cipher’s severe problems stem from having grown up under a violent dictatorship that probably actively wanted him and his family dead or at least silenced. He says it was illegal to talk about the third dimension, which is weird. Like the government of his country was suppressing scientific facts for who knows what reason, maybe religious, maybe something about maintaining control idk it just smells fishy. Were they maybe ruled by a 3D shadow government lol idk?

And it was so much of an issue his parents poisoned him. Like, what kind of sus back alley doctor did they have to go to get treatment without being turned into the feds as bad actors/traitors? How did they even know his eye was an issue if they couldn’t see it? Who diagnosed Bill with “eye on the top of your head syndrome?” How could another 2D being see the eye was facing up if they can only see in 1D? WTF? Just who were Bill’s parents in this fucked up society and were they connected to some kind of anti-government activities? Or maybe did they work for the government and have to hide the 3rd dimension being real?

So I didn’t watch the whole Flatland movie nor have I read the book because I’ve got the attention span of a water flea, but I do recall some kind of thing about a place where they violently deform babies that don’t “look normal” so they can be “normal.” Bill’s homeland is said to be similar to Flatland. So uh, bro lived until the age of (or the equivalent of) 13 if I’m not mistaken, under a government that would likely try to imprison him, smash his face violently until he conformed, or kill him if he didn’t lay low. Because he has a birth defect that makes him “dangerous”😬 I know the “shoelaces are fascist” was a joke but also like maybe he learned that word from like, his parents whispering about facists idk? 🤷‍♀️

So anyways long post long but we eventually get to the whole “he accidentally killed everyone.”Gotta wonder if some of that need to prove the third dimension was real was because he was desperate to not live in fear anymore of him and his family being killed or thrown into prison. Or maybe he was trying to save his parents from losing government jobs and social status. If he could prove the existence of 3D to everyone then maybe the people would rebel against the government for killing citizens who talked about it? Or maybe a scandal would create some leeway to negotiate his family’s safety and wellbeing? I think Bill hated his country, rightfully. He probably did actually want to “liberate” the people. I think it went beyond just self-aggrandizing and proving he was “right.” If he could see the 3rd dimension it makes me wonder if he could be like the sphere in Flatland and see what goes on behind close doors too. What if he saw them killing babies….

Also if he lived in this kind of society maybe they did public executions which would explain some of his blasé reactions to violence? Oh and he can prob see everyone’s guts so I bet that’s where his sick fascination with guts comes from. He probably recognized people by their guts more than their faces or some weird shit 🤷‍♀️

So he’s young, alone, he killed the only people that mattered to him and also failed to liberate the masses, and now he’s somehow surpassed corporeal reality… I don’t rly get how that part works but okay.

So he’s a god now. Not by choice, by accident. A young being who has lived under totalitarian rule and the threat of persecution his whole life suddenly exists in this fucking vacuum where anything is possible, time isn’t necessarily real, you can shapeshift at will etc. He goes from being afraid and living in a very viscerally corporeal reality to suddenly everything he was ever terrified of is like, gone? So he might feel it didn’t matter? Like his life was some kind of sick twisted joke? Like oh… my whole world was a lie. My existence is meaningless. I destroyed my family and I have nothing now, I mean nothing to anyone, nothing is real, blah blah. It’s quite bleak. He can’t die from what I can tell. They say he “died” but like he didn’t at the same time and suggest that a person is ultimately an idea and you can’t kill an idea? I don’t get how death works in Gravity Falls tbh. Like at all. But basically this fucking dude is alone in the soup of chaos between dimensions or whatever with his entire world reduced to a speck of dust and now he’s god and I guess he didn’t die or can’t die idk it’s fucked up and weird ok???

He probably thinks he’s actually doing Earth a favor by bringing Weirdmageddon? No rules because he’s adverse to any kind of rules due to his upbringing. Do whatever, be whatever kind of freak you are. Nobody can tell you what to do or what to believe. Ironically the way he enforces it is pretty totalitarian but yknow. He’s got issues man. And hey, if once you transcend your dimensional limitations you become a god who’s impervious to death? I think an unhinged out of touch god would be like “well death happens, you’ll get over it and being liberated from your flesh prison is good actually. It’s better than living a lie. Now you can be limitless like me! Trauma is whatever, now you can fly so who cares about therapy?”

Bro was like, yeah great let’s destroy the prison that is the 3rd dimension and turn it into a safe haven for people who love freedommm! ��� whoever has to die or get their face rearranged so be it for the greater good, and they will physically recover eventually anyways so it’s whatever. (There’s several instances in canon of god like beings being “killed” or dismembered and recovering such as in one of the books it says Time Baby has to regenerate for a thousand years or whatever after Bill shot him, the guy Pyronica ate in the Fearamid who showed up next scene unscathed, Bill getting his eyeball ripped out and regenerating it etc)

It’s fucked up and twisted but it makes sense so much narratively I think.

[sweet-cuddlebug]

My Personal Headcanons for the 13 Cards Characters - Jacks

(Below the cut there will be a description/explanation of the referenced terms/flags. If the information is incorrect or slightly wrong, please let me know so I can edit it.)

• Gabriel

Queer: term used to describe or define a gender identity that is different from cisgender. It is used by many people who feel that their identity is outside the traditional gender binary (man/woman) of our society. They may be non-binary, gender non-conforming, agender, pangender, genderfluid, or another gender identity.

Unlabeled: unlabeled sexuality is the term used to describe a person who does not identify with a particular sexual orientation. This could be because they don't feel that any of the existing labels fit them, or it could be because they simply don't feel the need to label themselves at all.

Autism: formally called autism spectrum disorder (ASD) or autism spectrum condition (ASC), is a neurodevelopmental disorder marked by deficits in reciprocal social communication and the presence of restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior.

Dyslexia: previously known as word blindness, is a learning disability that affects either reading or writing. Different people are affected to different degrees. Problems may include difficulties in spelling words, reading quickly, writing words, "sounding out" words in the head, pronouncing words when reading aloud and understanding what one reads.

• Félix

Aroace: it means that the person does not feel sexual or romantic attraction. Those on the arroace spectrum may still feel other types of attraction, whether queerplatonic, platonic, or sensual.

BPD: Borderline personality disorder is a mental health disorder that impacts the way you think and feel about yourself and others, causing problems in functioning normally in everyday life. It includes self-image problems, difficulty managing emotions and behavior, and a pattern of unstable relationships.

• Varu/Waru

Demiromantic: describes people who do not experience romantic attraction until they have formed a deep emotional connection with someone, according to the most common definition. Other definitions of this romantic orientation are only experiencing limited romantic attraction, or falling somewhere on a spectrum between aromantic and romantic; the latter definition overlaps with one for grayromantic.

Gay: Used to describe men and women attracted to the same sex, though lesbian is the more common term for women. Preferred over homosexual except in clinical contexts or references to sexual activity.

ADHD: Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is a neurodevelopmental disorder. It is frequently diagnosed in childhood and usually persists into adulthood. It is characterized by inattention (failures in the regulation of attention, moderate to severe distractibility, periods of short or excessive attention), hyperactivity (mainly mental restlessness, not in all subtypes) and impulsive behavior (emotional instability and impulsive behaviors, including motor restlessness) that produces problems in multiple areas of functioning, hindering social, emotional and cognitive development.

• Zontik

Bisexual: this term is used to describe a person who experiences emotional, romantic and/or sexual attractions to, or engages in romantic or sexual relationships with, more than one sex or gender.

Demisexual: refers to people who only feel sexual attraction towards someone with whom an emotional bond has previously been established. Demisexual people do not feel sexual attraction without that prior intimacy and emotional connection.

Anxiety (disorder): Anxiety is a feeling of fear, dread, and uneasiness. It might cause you to sweat, feel restless and tense, and have a rapid heartbeat. It can be a normal reaction to stress. The anxiety may give you a boost of energy or help you focus. But for people with anxiety disorders, the fear is not temporary and can be overwhelming. Anxiety disorders are conditions in which you have anxiety that does not go away and can get worse over time. The symptoms can interfere with daily activities such as job performance, schoolwork, and relationships.

//

This post is intended to share PERSONAL headcanons, it is NOT intended to invalidate other people's ideas/theories or claim that these are correct/better. If you don't like this content you can ignore it or block me.

[justabirdy]

An Open Letter from the Daughter You Don’t Know

I'm going to be open and vulnerable here, mostly because this has been something that has been clawing at my heart to write and I don't have many people to directly share it with.

The following is a letter to my parents. it's a refined stream-of-consciousness I wrote after a particularly hard phone call with them. I may never send this to them. Hell, I may just delete it after a bit, but I hope in the time it is up, that it can encourage or help some people struggling with similar issues regarding family, trauma, transness, and more.

If nothing else, It has helped me refine my thoughts and my experiences and put into words the pain I feel around the complications of family, being queer, and learning to set boundaries.

There are heavy topics discussed though I've tried to keep things vague and unspecific to focus more on the emotions I've been feeling. Still, please don't feel obligate to read if you aren't in a headspace for it.

To a Mom and Dad who may never read this,

I shouldn’t have texted you today. In the span of a few weeks, I have lost my job, my housing, a couple friends, and most recently, access to needed diabetic medicine. I was scared, in shock from the news, in pain from over month of repeated blow after blow of bad news. Other people were busy, and so without thinking, I contacted you. You; the parents who have supported me, who paid for college, who offer words of encouragement, who are excited to see when I succeed. I committed self-harm today through a simple text that expressed my worry.

I’m aware that you will probably never read this, but I need to write it down anyway because it is so, so, SO painful to talk with you. Right now, my soul is twisting and writhing from the pain it’s in. The recognition of your support for a person you’ve not truly known, the ever-present fear of letting you down, and the tiredness of being who you expect when who I actually am cries out in pain.

You called with encouragement on the mind. “This too will pass son. God is stretching you, son. Son, He has great plans for you. You will find the perfect job, son. We love you SON. We are praying for you SON. You’ll always be our SON.”

It’s the model parent of the year. Who could fault a parent loving and supporting and encouraging their son through hard times. And yet, each punctuation of your support feels like a dagger through my heart until it’s a pincushion that can barely beat let alone form a response. Your support hurts and stabs and digs deep into my being because I know that support belongs to a birthright, an heir to the family name, a son.

Before I can respond, you’ve shifted gears back into familiar territory:

“How’s your walk with God?” “Are you still walking with the Lord?” “Do you trust Him?” “When we are at our end, that’s where God Begins.” “What barriers have you put up separating you from God?”

I’m numb. What am I supposed to say? We’ve had this conversation over and over. When I lost my last job due to a pandemic, when I thought my dog might be dying, when I was diagnosed with diabetes. If there’s a heartbreak, a struggle, or challenge in my life, these questions return.

Over the years I’ve responded in every way. “My faith is struggling” warrants a scolding to do better and follow examples set before me. Similarly, though “My walk with God is fine” is also met with skepticism. No person could suffer hardship without having stumbled or fallen away from God to deserve it after all.

I want to scream. The truth is YOU are the barrier that’s been put up! You are the reason. I can’t do more than hitch a sob that I try to hide from the phone speaker though I’m sure you heard it. That noise alone confirms in your mind that I must have strayed far from the light of God. How else could a SON you raised ever struggle this much, ever go through this pain, or suffer as you hear over the phone? This realization pains you because you want your SON to be happy, you want HIM to live a fruitful life and be fulfilled just like you.

I stifle another sob and a sniffle, my mind trying to find an answer that won’t disappoint you. I can’t find the words to explain that the teachings I grew up with don’t align with the church I see.

Feed the hungry; help the poor; commune, support, and love the downtrodden; accept people for who they are and meet them where they’re at. None of it aligns with the hatred and vitriol I see for the immigrants, the sex workers, the refugees, the disabled, and the queer around me.

I can say this though. Even after a year and a half of therapy, there’s still a small part of me that won’t let me open up, it won’t let me tell you what I feel because that wouldn’t coincide with your image of me. A person I crafted for decades to protect myself and to avoid your disapproval.

That part of me is weaker than it was two years ago, but still craves your support, it yearns to be praised and accepted even if it means betraying who I really am. The truth is, I’m part of that queer community facing the vitriol and hate from the very ones who taught me to love and support and welcome. I have been for decades. For far longer than I’ve ever understood the words to describe it. I’ve always been a little different from the rest of the family.

There’s a reason why I was never invited to hunt with my grandfather or why I was pressured into football, a reason behind this lacking in my supposed masculinity that was evident enough to need to push me towards masculinity. But it goes back farther than that. I can pinpoint the sadness I felt knowing I could never participate in a father-daughter dance. I remember the shame I was made to feel after getting caught trying on lipstick, the stern talks about such behavior.

I remember the hundreds of nights I spent crying in my bed at the fact puberty was making me something I didn’t want to be, forcing me into something I could never be. I didn’t know how to describe it, couldn’t explain myself even if I had tried; but I understood. Those nights were spent begging and crying in hushed tones under my blankets, pleading with God to answer a single request:

God, please make me a girl.

I wanted nothing more than to wake up and find this Kafka-style nightmare of puberty finished, reversed even. Those were nights of self-harm, clawing, biting, and punching a body that refused to listen; a body that stubbornly changed in the worst possible ways.

You never saw those nights, but eventually, a learned helplessness set in. I couldn’t be me. God wouldn’t let it happen, I couldn’t do anything about it, and that’s not the person you expected me to be. So, unable to be myself, I learned to be your son. I played the part. I wore the mask. I ignored the hurt inside. I became a leader in the youth group. I wore the suit. I grew the beard. It was an identity that was expected of me. It was capable, professional, conservative, and it. Was. Safe.

And I LOATHED myself for it. I pushed the person I needed to be down, smothering it until I was numb. If I could never be them, I should just focus on the safe bet even if I hated him. But that came with its own set of problems. I hated my body so why should I care for it? It’s not like anyone would be attracted to it anyway. Why exercise? Why eat right? Why put effort into clothes or appearance anyway? Maybe if I was lucky, I might just not make it long enough for it to matter.

Besides you approved of this me. You loved me. You supported me. That’s what mattered. That’s what I craved. When you commented that I never did anything but sit in my room all day, I responded. I stopped writing, I stopped doing art. I leaned into volunteering at church, I started a business, worked multiple side jobs, then proved to you that my own business was a real thing worth respecting. I became independent because that’s what you demanded. That’s what you approved of. That part of me grew stronger each year while the real me remained buried.

As the hunger for your approval grew, my self-loathing remained, it festered and smoked until the multiple jobs burned me out. Something in me broke and depression set in like a fog. I’d work 12-16 hours a day and spend all weekend in bed, sleeping, crying, or contemplating dark things. I told you work was killing me. Said it plainly and openly, and thankfully you believed me because you encouraged me again. Told me God was stretching me. Encouraged my change in career paths. You approved for me to make a change.

The truth is, I didn’t tell you everything. My self-hatred had reached a breaking point. I hated my jobs, I hated my small business, I hated my body, I hated very being. I needed to escape. I needed to think. I needed to recover, to distract, and gain space from over a decade of expectations I felt no control over. So, when I burned out and depression first set in, I also found myself without energy, unable to hold the weight of expectations that had kept that little queer person inside me smothered any longer.

With it came the first bit of true joy I had experienced in years. I was an adult. I had adult money. I could go to a store and buy nail polish, just to try it. When I did, I claimed it was a lost bet, but truthfully, I just loved the red color and suddenly I didn’t want to bite my nails anymore. Suddenly I cared about something, suddenly I cared about myself, even just a tiny bit. That realization terrified me, especially seeing it peek through the vernier I had worn for so many years.

This was NOT what you expected of an ideal SON.

So, I fled cross country under the guise of a new job. Thousands of miles away. I still wore the beard, the mask, and the suit of your expectations, but in small ways I could start to explore a part of myself I had buried 15 years ago. Over the course of a year, I healed just a little, I explored, I studied scripture, and I reflected deeply in an effort to both understand who I was and reconcile with that revelation one way or another. And I did begin to reconcile with it. At the same time, the part of me I had built up for so long, that part that needed your approval got just a little weaker and the tiny joys I found in being myself became just a little stronger and a little more frequent.

When the pandemic forced me to return to your home, I quickly found I had damaged that mask of the perfect son. The cracks were small, but they were noticeable and made me wary. I knew that you wouldn’t approve of the person inside me that I had begun to nurture and show compassion for. I would need to be careful not to let the cracks in the mask show.

Strangely though, my craving for your approval shifted ever so slightly. Would you possibly love or approve of a child who didn’t fit your ideal mold? You were kind and compassionate and supportive in so many ways. My heart still flutters at that thought. What if you, the people who raised me, could stand to love me even in my failing your expectations. I wanted THAT approval.

I couldn’t risk discovery, but I could carefully observe you. You worked with gay people, but you only brought them up when defending yourself. You asked about a neighbor’s pride flag to which I responded it was a bisexual flag they had likely hung up for pride. But you responded “Well, they shouldn’t be proud of that.” It answered my questions. If a neighbor down the street couldn’t avoid your scrutiny, I certainly couldn’t use gender neutral pronouns around you. It quickly became clear that I would not be safe in your house, not without the burden of your expectations smothering that queer person inside me.

So, I fled again. I entered grad school. Left the state and a part of my masculinity behind. I spent a year on a campus of supportive people willing to put up with that eccentric nonbinary person. I was terrified to leave my masculine presentation behind, but the joy I found at seeing myself look even slightly closer to the girl my 12-year-old-self had begged for me to become… well that joy was palpable. It was like I had been struck by lightning. I was energized, passionate about life, I suddenly cared about my body. There were still parts I didn’t like, but those were being overshadowed by parts that I did. That early euphoria of simply being myself was something I will never forget.

Grad school zipped by and before I knew it, the pandemic lockdowns were over, and I was starting a new job with a new degree. Sometime in all of this, I decided I couldn’t pretend anymore. I wanted to try opening up to you again. I wanted to test the waters and see if you could love and accept a nonbinary child. I had also begun writing again.

I had decided I was going to ask key questions the next time I came down for the holidays, but what I hadn’t anticipated was you reading an article I had published alongside some work I had been doing for my new job. The article detailed the need for scientific language to grow and develop as times changed. It called out racist language, exclusionary language, called for us to be more inclusive in the way we interact academically and highlighted organizations that were actively working toward improving the language in their field. That phone call you made haunts me to this day.

“You used ALL the liberal, woke buzzwords.” “How’s your walk with God?” “I don’t know where we went wrong.” “Democrats can’t be Christians.” “I’m leaving you to God now. Goodbye.”

I’ll be honest, this broke me again. For 4 months I assumed you had fully disowned me. That single phone call led me to call suicide hotlines several times. I was alone. I was in a new state without a network of support, and with the belief that I would never speak to my parents again, the very people I had trained myself to chase approval from.

For 4 months I processed. I went through the stages of grief. I began to pick myself up again. I began to live for myself and my own joy. The early hesitancy of leaving behind my masculinity, it shattered. I didn’t need it anymore. I could freely pursue being myself fully and truly. I could truly try to be happy.

I started building new connections, found people who accepted me. Advocated for myself. I became a stronger me. I found my identity. I was still nonbinary, but it was more than that. I could finally start to pursue the person my 12-year-old self knew I was when she begged God to be a girl. 17 years later, that prayer was beginning to be answered.

Then one day you called.

Worse still, you pretended nothing had happened. Pretended I had never written that article. That you had never said what you did. Like we just hadn’t spoken in a bit because we got busy. I felt trapped by the grief I had processed conflicting with that urge to regain your approval on our reconnection. A much smaller part of me urged that family is still family at the end of the day.

but I knew this family and I couldn’t trust it anymore even as I yearned still for your approval. So, I gave in, I let the past be ignored. But I guarded my heart. You would never get to know the person I was becoming. This time I sought to protect myself. You weren’t safe so I would keep you at arm’s length.

I moved states again. We spoke, but internally, my goal was complete and total independence from you. The writing was on the wall and things were in motion that would ensure you found out who I was eventually. So, I steeled myself for that time. I built a network of people I could trust. I came out to old and new friends. I went to therapy. I planned and processed and worked to try to encourage you to become more open to the LGBTQ community without straight up outing myself.

But I also continued to work towards my own life and my own happiness. Soon I had a good group of friends who accepted me for who I was. I had hobbies to pursue, things I loved doing. I even came out to some of my oldest friends and in a couple cases, their own parents as well. I found the more I lived to meet my own expectations, the less I craved meeting yours. The less I worried about if you would accept me or not.

I still care, don’t get me wrong. Multiple people have suggested I go “no contact” with you, but I have refused that. I want to believe you might accept me one day, and I hope I’m not forced to give up that belief. But I also recognize that historic evidence has merit and it’s not been promising.

I nearly gave up when you called me at the start of this year. You had discovered my pierced ears, my green hair, and my tattoo during an exhausting visit where I still pretended to be your son. You had handled it graciously enough, accepted that I could make these decisions for myself, given me hope that maybe you were open to some changes in me. So much so that this phone call shook me.

You called to inform me that a childhood friend had passed away. He had been murdered during a mugging. I had heard the news earlier that day, but in the next couple breaths I felt my heart sink as you confronted me about my own gender and sexuality. You had seen my they/them pronouns on a work website and had done some googling to learn about it.

You sought to use my friend’s death and the fact he was gay to confront me about who I was. I felt sick. I was stunned. I remember the way you immediately asked if I had slept with “other men.” I remember that sharp and painful edge to your voice. I remember your hasty assurances that you still loved me, words that sounded hollow and desperate, more like someone had coached you to do it so I wouldn’t just hang up the phone on you. I was so stunned I couldn’t even answer your question of “are you at least happy?” and I certainly couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I am trans, not just nonbinary.

Mostly I remember the sickening realization that this was no longer going to be a clean-cut issue where you would just cut me out of your life and disown me like I had already grieved and prepared for. I would have to make that decision. I would have to prepare to deal with guilt-tripping, manipulation, and possibly making the decision to go “no contact” myself.

Today, that part of me that craves your approval has grown very small. I am living openly as myself, letting myself be happy for the first time in my life. Everyone around me knows who I am but you. Everyone knows your daughter… everyone but you. Let me answer that question you asked over the phone that January evening. Yes. I am happy. I am loved. I am content. My faith is fine, even if it doesn’t look exactly like yours anymore. I am one of the queer ones and I’m so much happier for it.

It's not lost on me that at 32 years old I’m already on the older side of my community. Elders are few and far between, often because those who would be community elders were far stronger than me, far more willing to stand up to protect and cherish their community against every odd and they paid the price for it. I admire their strength the same way I was taught to admire the martyrs of the early church even as I commit to sharing resources and communion with those younger and in more need than myself.

Many in my community weren’t allowed the chance to wear the mask as long as I did. Many didn’t have parents who would support even an idealized version of them like I was afforded. Many prepare for the worst because the worst is all but assured by those around them. It was your continued support that allowed me to strive to be who I am becoming today. The financial support, the genuine attempts to encourage, the love you shared in good and troubled times. Even if that support wasn’t meant for this version of me, it’s not lost on me and it’s appreciated. I intend to pay it forward as best I can.

Despite a growing climate of fear and hate for who and what I am, I am happier than I have ever been in my life. I’m happy with my accomplishments, I’m happy with the person I am striving to be, I’m happy with that long answered prayer:

“I can’t make you into something you already were.”

I’m happy with the community I’ve built around me who love and support me and encourage me to go out and feed the hungry, help the poor, and commune with the downtrodden.

Before I lost my most recent job, before my livelihood seemingly crumbled overnight. You called me again. And surprisingly, you apologized for what you had done. You were specific, you were clear, and I still truly hope you were sincere. You asked me not to push you away and I believe that you don’t want it to happen. But tearfully I responded that it was up to you. And you answered that challenge. You asked me to let you prove it.

I love you, truly, I do. But you’ve made a pledge and until you prove it, I intend to keep you at a distance. How can you expect me to fill you in on everything when you still won’t even use anything but he/him pronouns in conversation? How can you expect me to come to you when your first response is to assume I’ve done wrong by God and deserve punishment. How can I open up when you text me to ask what cisgender means only to get upset that a coworker won’t just say she’s female even as I’m actively explaining how comforting it is to see people use the term as signal that they are safer to me any my community.

Your own actions make it so very hard to justify opening myself to the pain of interacting with you. Until you prove otherwise, I’m sorry I texted you today, I’m sorry I opened myself up to further pain by seeking your answers and support. I’m so sorry I can’t let myself connect to you, to introduce you to your daughter; a daughter who has earnestly yearned for your approval and support for so, so many years.

I love you, and I still hope that one day I might introduce myself to you for the first time; and I dearly pray it won’t be knelt at your gravestones.

Sincerely and with all my love and heartache,

Your Daughter

[f1ghtsoftly]

I actually think it’s strategically stupid to ask women to forgo male protection and male financing without any kind of organized feminism to catch them. Feminists passionate about separatism need to educate themselves on the barriers women face when exiting misogynistic communities and family structures.

And no, just because you made it out doesn’t mean others can. There are scores of women behind you who didn���t make it. Who went insane from abuse, who developed addictions to cope, who are financially trapped, who experienced worse misogyny in the labor market then in a het relationship. Stop villanizing women acting in their own self interest and start organizing to give women BETTER OPTIONS.

I shouldn’t have had to choose between cosigning conversion therapy or staying in a misogynistic industry, my best friend shouldn’t have had to choose between homelessness and a dad who raped her, my first lover shouldn’t have to choose between a life of financial precarity and the sex industry and I cannot overemphasize that we were all rich lucky white women from the states. What’s it like for women of color? Women from states with worse education systems? Disabled women? What kind of rock are you living under where women aren’t doing the best they can to be financially secure and as free as possible *especially* in a cost of living crisis. And again, please don’t come at me with the “those criticisms are only white women with no problems who just CHOOSE” the women I am talking about are from wealthy white suburban families with boats and big retirement accounts we *are* the women you’re talking about. Just look at what happened to Brittney Spears and Rose McGowan, even “luckier” women who had huge parts of their lives destroyed because they took a stand for their own freedom. Were they just not “tough enough”? Get it through your fucking heads, no woman has an easy time of it, no women just “chooses” to comply with patriarchy for fun. We have three options, be kept precarious and in constant fear of male violence in the labor market, to participate in the running of the very system that oppresses us by allying with men or quit and try to become male ourselves. No women makes a “wrong” choice because all of these options are fucking terrible.

Women en masse aren’t unfree because they get stupid facial fillers or have boyfriends, women getting stupid facial fillers and having boyfriends is a symptom of how unfree women are and many women correctly see how allying with the right men can deliver them from poverty or financial insecurity.

Even middle class women with access to jobs that can pay the bills typically need to cosign a level of institutional patriarchy in order to do so, they become “administrators” to capitalism and are rewarded at the expense of their integrity. Think about all the teachers in the south who are forced to go along with anti-LGBTQ mandates, think about therapists who have to “diagnose” traumatized women with diseases that will stay in the medical records in order to get their insurance to cover therapy, think about the kind of misogynistic abuse women in tech or science take. GET.A. GRIP. IT SUCKS FOR EVERYONE.

And honestly, and I truly mean this, if you genuinely believe you are somehow better or stronger then most women who don’t “get it” I really question your commitment to women and to the project of feminism. It *is* delusional behavior to think that you aren’t one sexual assault, one lost job, one string of unlucky experiences away from trying to stockholm syndrome yourself into accepting male domination in a “relationship” or in the workplace. Without having to decide between sexual assault in a shelter or crashing with a “bf” who rapes you.

Without developing structures that can support women’s autonomy *we’re all* vulnerable to male predation and acting like it’s easy or even possible for women to shake that off not only shows an astounding lack of compasison but a naive and childish belief that your spirit is somehow above breaking. It’s not.

Like seriously please take it from me there is a limit to how much material, spiritual and physical abuse someone can take and so so so many more women then you think are dealing with horrible scary shit from the men in their lives and you can’t always tell what’s happening from behind a screen (or even in person). Even women who really, really annoy me or who are abusive themselves are reacting to male abuse in their own lives so please stop making the barrier to feminism contingent on doing the very things patriarchy makes it hardest to do.

PLEASE focus instead on making it easier for women to live away from men, on removing the ties between women’s financial security and their relationship to the men in their lives, on making women safer in public, on supporting mothers financially and with women’s labor.

It’s not reformism, it’s not choice feminism it’s accepting the reality of where we’re at and choosing to build women only infrastructure that will carry us to a post patriarchal future. That’s what doing the work is. It’s acknowledging where we are realistically as a society and committing to getting us where we need to go.

[razzberrydazz]

Me, realizing one of the many reasons I like Shadowheart and Astarion so much is because they read as having BPD to me, because I am a person with BPD and I project myself the hardest on characters I see myself in. It's MY comfort characters and I'll project on them however much I want 🤡😈

So I broke down the base criteria of BPD symptoms (you only need to tick 5 of the 9 criteria to be able to be diagnosed with BPD) and how both Shadowheart and Astarion can be interpreted as having and expressing the various behavioral criteria.

The main criteria: Fear of Abandonment, Self-Harm and/or Suicidal Thoughts, Chronic feelings of Emptiness and Dissociation, Unstable Self-image and sense of identity, history of unstable relationships, impulsive and self-sabotaging behavior, mood swings, extreme anger, Paranoia and disconnect from reality. It's not explicitly a criteria, but it's incredibly common if not a prerequisite that people with BPD have prolonged past trauma that caused them to have these maladaptive behaviors.

Both Astarion and Shadowheart have the traumatized unstable past to explain their behaviors (Shadowheart DEFINITELY has SEVERE childhood trauma since she got kidnapped and forced into a horribly abusive and manipulative cult, while Astarion has the trauma from Cazador's centuries of abuse and manipulation)

Both of them have SEVERE trust issues (Shadowheart from being in a cult as well as her attempts to pit Tav against Lae'Zel because she's distrustful of her {she has good reason to be when she's carrying a Gith artifact, as well as the Githyanki's long history of brutality and oppressive regimes}, Astarion from being so severely abused by Cazador despite his attempts to please the vampire lord, both of them can latch onto Tav and trust Tav entirely too Much once they're shown a shred of decency)

Both have Extreme fear of abandonment that they deal with in different ways (Shadowheart avoids abandonment by generally pushing people away and keeping them at arm's length so she can't grow attached especially if she stays Sharran, then latches onto the player far more than she should if no longer Sharran because Tav is her last tether of trust and warmth; Astarion avoids abandonment by trying to seduce you and get in your good graces as quickly as possible)

Both have unstable self-image and identity (Astarion doesn't even remember his own face before turning into a vampire, Shadowheart has to double down and recite the Sharran dogma to herself near constantly because she is unsure of her faith and by act 2/3 has QUITE an existential crisis on her relationship with Shar and Selune and cuts her bangs and even dyes her hair if no longer Sharran)

Both have a history of unstable relationships (Shadowheart can't even remember most of her possible past relationships due to the memory wipes, the main relationship she does remember is that of her with her cruel capricious goddess Shar, and if you go Selune route in Shadowheart's personal quest she will latch onto Tav and ask them to be with her forever with the clear implication that she's afraid Tav will leave her; Astarion hadn't been able to maintain a single good relationship in his entire time under Cazador because he had to lure his lovers to his master)

Both have impulsive and self-sabotaging behaviors ESPECIALLY Astarion imo (Astarion's perceived initial hypersexuality and inability to say no to sexual intimacy for most of the game, his want to do the ritual which overall has a far worse outcome for himself and others, his attempt to feed from Tav without their consent and possibly kill them in the process, his approval and encouragement of evil actions that reinforce that Tav is not trustworthy; Shadowheart's attempt to kill Lae'Zel by holding a dagger to her throat while she slept was definitely an impulsive act, and if she throws away the spear of night in act 2 that was Definitely done by impulse and not of active thought, and her cutting and dying her hair was most definitely done on impulse imo)

Both appear to have chronic feelings of emptiness and dissociation (Astarion largely because of the chronic vampiric gnawing hunger as well as him appearing to dissociate during some sex scenes, Shadowheart feeling emptiness largely due to the loss of her memory and mind as well as her dissociating via prayer because Sharrans try to empty themselves of all emotion to feel the emptiness and loss that Shar upholds)

Both of them have appear to have varying anger issues (not as much as other characters at times, as both Karlach and Lae'Zel DEFINITELY have worse anger issues at first glance if you ask me) and different ways they deal with it (Astarion is quite murder happy about it, such as when he can kill the Gur bounty hunter without caring for Tav's input, and Shadowheart's anger and resentment towards Lae'Zel and Selunites causes her to verbally lash out at any mention of Selune while at one point physically threatening Lae'Zel with her dagger and possibly killing her if Tav doesn't intervene or eggs her on, though I think most of Shadowheart's anger is turned inward and turned into her mentally anguishing that she's not a good enough devotee to her goddess)

Both have Extreme paranoia and suspicion of others (Shadowheart is distrustful of others by default and is especially paranoid about Lae'Zel due to her being Gith, Astarion is paranoid of being taken back to Cazador and holds Tav at knifepoint at first accusing them of being the one that kidnapped him before Tav assuages his fears)

Of the BPD criteria, I'd say outright Self-Harm and Suicidal Ideation shows up in both Shart and Astarion the Least (Gale has EVERYONE beat in the suicidality department); they both most definitely want to live, though they both still do Self-Harm usually through their self-sabotaging actions. I wouldn't count Shadowheart's stigmata hand wound as Self-Harm since it was Shar that inflicted that on her and not Shadowheart inflicting it on herself. If anything, it could be argued that Shadowheart purposely doing things she knows Shar would dislike in order to activate the wound is some form of self harm possibly? Shar is her abuser so I still am firm that her wound is not Shadowheart harming herself even if she knowingly does things to activate it because it is the fault of her abuser for hurting her.

As for extreme mood swings, often times those can be pretty well concealed and be mostly internal instead of external if someone is good enough at masking their emotions. Of the party members, Shadowheart and Astarion and Gale mask their emotions the most. Karlach has pretty outward mood swings, she's very expressive, while both Shadowheart and Astarion (and Gale) are typically pretty withdrawn and wear a mask of false smiles. Shadowheart definitely seems to be chronically depressed or otherwise ruminating and not having a good time mentally. If she has mood swings they are likely turned inwards and not outwards. She does have outbursts of anger and panic indicative of rapid mood swings at times, however. Astarion's dramatic catty antics could be read as mood swings judging how he reacts to Tav's various actions. Both he and Shart are very catty.

Overall, both Shadowheart and Astarion can be read as having enough matching behaviors to the BPD criteria for me to confidently say they're coded to have BPD, even if it's not explicitly stated as such.

Sidenote, sometimes people with BPD can experience minor hallucinations especially auditory hallucinations, and Shadowheart most Definitely had auditory hallucinations of Shar judging and shaming her if you ask me. It could have actually been Shar in her head yes, but it could also just as easily have been Shadowheart's own mind tormenting her.

BPD can also possibly predispose people towards Psychosis, black and white thinking, and delusions, though it's not a definite. Astarion's obsession with completing the ritual insisting it will protect him for good could be seen as a possible delusion of grandeur. Shadowheart definitely has black-and-white dogmatic thinking while under Shar's thumb. They need so much healing.

All of this is my interpretation to support my headcanons of course, these also enable my shameless projecting on these two catty characters. I'm a borderline bitch and if I can't get a stable personality myself, store bought is fine!

A lot of stuff is speculative and that's fine with me.

[forbidden-salt]

Breaking the Silence; My Mental Health Story for Worldwide Suicide Prevention Day

By ForbiddenSalt

9/10/2024

Trigger Warning: This blog post discusses suicidal ideation, depression, and mental health struggles. If you are in a vulnerable state, please read with caution, and know that support is available through resources like 988, friends, and loved ones.

Resources and helpful tools for self and loved ones provided below the fold.

My Story:

Suicide Awareness Day holds a deeply personal meaning for me. For years, I struggled silently with suicidal thoughts, depression, and anxiety, unsure of how to ask for help or whether I deserved it. Sharing my story now is not just about raising awareness, but about offering hope to anyone who feels the same weight I once carried.

At the age of 13, I began to experience something many people are hesitant to talk about—suicidal ideation. But it wasn’t until I was in college that I truly realized how dangerous those thoughts had become.

I remember one day when I was walking across campus from class to my dorm, lost in thought, and accidentally stepped off the curb without looking. A car was coming toward me. Instinctively, I jumped back, avoiding an accident. But what happened next startled me more than the near-miss. As I stood on the sidewalk, tears welled up, not because I was relieved, not because I was scared—I was upset that my instincts had saved me. I realized I wasn’t crying because I had narrowly avoided getting hit by a car; I was crying because, in that moment, I wanted to be hit. It would have been an "accident"—a way out without me having to act intentionally.

It dawned on me that this was something much more serious than I had admitted to myself.

This wasn’t the first time I had experienced suicidal thoughts, but it was one of the most shocking moments. I knew I needed help. I sought out a counselor at the campus health center and, for a time, tried therapy. When I went home for a break, I spoke to my doctor, and she prescribed me an SSRI. I confided in my family and was met with mixed reactions—some were supportive, while others expressed concerns about the medication, urging me to stop taking it as quickly as possible. This set up an internal battle for me; I began starting and stopping my medication over the next few months, caught between fear and shame; and eventually quit all together.

Suicidal ideation lingered in the back of my mind for years. I wished for a pause button, a way to make the world stop so I could catch my breath and somehow not fall behind. I dreamed of getting hurt or sick enough to be hospitalized, just so I could take a break from life’s demands. But I never let myself act on those thoughts.

It wasn’t until my mid-20s that things got so bad I returned to therapy. This time, it was different. My new therapist helped me understand that I wasn’t “crazy”—I was carrying the weight of childhood trauma and years of struggling to survive. She diagnosed me with complex PTSD, and for the first time, I felt understood. Her support gave me the strength to make significant changes in my life, including moving to a new state.

There, I found another therapist who continued to guide me through the ups and downs. I started back on an SSRI and have stayed on it ever since. Through this process, I realized that what I had been dealing with wasn’t just emotional—it was also biological. My body wasn’t producing enough serotonin, and my chronic illnesses, were compounding these mental health struggles by denying my body the tools to make its own serotonin and through the weight of the symptoms. Especially for a while before there was any answer or treatment plan in sight.

I went through EMDR therapy, talk therapy, and put in the hard work to heal. I focused on my physical and mental health, fighting for answers and for my life. Slowly, I began to reclaim control. I started to recognize the warning signs of passive suicidal ideation and created an action plan for when those thoughts creep in. I don’t go to therapy as often now, but I still have touch-base appointments in case something changes.

Through this journey, I’ve learned so much about myself and the nature of mental illness. Depression, anxiety, and PTSD were not signs that I was lazy or difficult, though I was often labeled as such. They were symptoms of a much deeper issue. I wish people could see that depression isn’t a mindset or mood and suicidal thoughts are not selfish—they are the final, fatal symptom of a disease.

It took a long time for me to accept that what I went through wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t to blame for the trauma I endured or the way my brain and body responded to it. And if you’re reading this and find yourself in a dark place, I want you to know you are not alone. I know what it’s like to stand in the darkness for so long that it starts to feel like home. But I also know that it is possible to fight back, to heal, and to find hope again.

If you can’t fight for yourself right now, I encourage you to reach out to someone—anyone—who can sit with you in your pain. Let them help you find a therapist, a doctor, or simply help with daily tasks. It might not be the person you expect. For me, one if my company leaders had noticed my depression and helped me find a therapist. I had a best friend who sat with me over the phone while I sobbed broken hearted, encouraging me to seek help if I needed it. That going to the hospital if I needed it wasn’t shameful or weak but brave and admirable. It was my grandmother, who spoke to me daily, reminding me of my faith and offering love when I couldn’t love myself and felt those I loved most didn’t love me.

Faith also played a huge role in my healing. I’ve had my share of questions and anger, but my belief that God could handle my questions and my rage helped me through some of the darkest times. I questioned why my life was going the way it was, why I was feeling the way I did, if He knows everything before it happens, if he’s all powerful why didn’t he step in to change the course of my life away from this. My questions turned to anger and I had to keep reminding myself that God had shoulders big enough for my anger, my tears, my pain. That I could toss all of it at him and he’d still see me still, love me. I never doubted his existence, and honestly to this day I still don’t have all the answers but I’m sure one day I’ll understand and I’ve realized I was still loved even when I couldn’t see it.

My family eventually came around too. Even my dad, who I had thought didn’t believe me, recently admitted how scared he had been for me after he had kept his fears hidden for years since it had gotten bad. We were able to talk and he listened, shared his point of view, and made the effort to understand. He allowed me to assure him I was safe now, I was doing better, and it’s changed our relationship for the better. While I had found my way to stability without knowing if my family believed or supported me, learning my family did care enough to worry, cared enough to learn, and loved me enough to listen even if what I said was hard to hear meant the world to me.

If you’re struggling, know that there is help out there. Call 988 for support, reach out to friends, hug your dog or cat, cling to your faith—whatever gets you through the next moment. Each day is a step, and that’s enough. It doesn’t have to be a leap—it just has to be forward.

Resources for support below:

Here are some coping strategies:

1. Box Breathing: This simple technique can help reduce anxiety. Breathe in for four counts, hold for four, exhale for four, and pause for four. Repeat until your heart rate slows and you feel more grounded. You can do this while on a video call too just let your eyes glide along the edges of the screen while you hold and breathe.

2. Straw Breathing: Another great calming tool—take a deep breath in, and then slowly exhale like you’re blowing through a straw. It mimics the relaxing response of the parasympathetic nervous system and helps you focus.

3. Journaling: I started journaling, reminding myself it didn’t have to be perfect. It was just for me. I stopped feeling guilty if I skipped days or weeks and let the words flow when I needed them. If you struggle with journaling, try creating an anonymous blog where you can rant and vent without worrying about dates or continuity. I have a separate Tumblr just for this—a void I can yell into when I need to.

4. Bilateral Stimulation: Butterfly taps—crossing your arms and tapping on opposite shoulders—helped calm me during moments of stress. This was especially useful during EMDR therapy, which became one of my strongest tools.

5. Creating a Routine: I used to go to the gym to cope before my chronic illness made it harder, so I shifted to art as a form of expression. Creating anything—whether it’s a routine or a creative outlet—can make a difference.

6. Boundaries and Emotions: Learning boundaries and reconnecting with my emotions was vital. One book that really changed my perspective was Rage Becomes Her by Soraya Chemaly, which helped me embrace my anger as a valid emotion. Learn how to advocate for yourself and establish boundaries. This takes time, but it’s one of the most empowering things you can do for your mental health.

7. Prioritize Yourself: Make time for what you need—therapy, the gym, a bath, or a doctor’s appointment. And allow yourself to rest. Your mind and body will force you to stop if you keep ignoring the warning signs.

8. Taking Shortcuts: Too tired to make a proper meal? That’s okay. Eat food however it comes—deconstructed meals are all the rage anyway. I’ve had moments where lunch was just handfuls of cheese and lunch meat. The goal is to nourish yourself, and sometimes that means being kind to yourself about how you do it.

10. Create Safety Nets: If you're heading somewhere that could be triggering, plan for it. What’s your exit strategy? Can you bring a comfort item, like a fidget toy, a blanket, or a stuffed animal? Having a plan can give you a sense of control.

11. Redirecting Negative Thoughts: When I get caught in negative thoughts, I ask myself if these thoughts are helping me process emotions or if they're just hurting me. If I’m not ready to process them, I work on redirecting my focus to something more helpful.

13. Emotional Support Animals: If you can, get an emotional support animal. My mini schnauzer has helped me through so much, even though she doesn’t know it.

How can I help a loved one:

1. Listen First: Before jumping to solutions, take time to listen. Validate the person's feelings, and let them process before suggesting how to fix things. Most of the time, they already know the solution; they just need space to work through it.

2. Stop Shaming Mental Health: Be mindful of how you talk about mental health. I’ve overheard loved ones shaming people for being "selfish" or "foolish" for being depressed, anxious, suicidal and even those that did commit suicide not knowing how often it was on my mind. Those words made it even harder to speak up and ask for help.

3. Fear and Guilt Are Not Helpful Tools: Fear and guilt are not effective motivators when it comes to mental health. I once told someone close to me that I didn’t believe people who commit suicide go to hell. Just as someone who passes from cancer doesn’t go to hell for how they died, I believe the same for depression—it’s an illness. They responded that they hoped fear of hell would keep me from acting on those thoughts. I explained that, by the time someone is ready to act, they likely don’t care anymore. The weight of the pain is overwhelming, and fear or guilt won’t pull them back.

4. Recognize the Signs: Suicidal ideation, passive suicidal ideation, and suicidal plans are all dangerous and need treatment and support. It may begin with passive thoughts like, “I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t wake up tomorrow,” but those can shift into active planning if left unchecked. Just because someone hasn’t acted on it doesn’t mean they don’t need help. Depression doesn't always look the same for everyone. It could be messy rooms, low energy, or a lack of interest in things that once brought joy. It could also look like reckless behavior, withdrawing, or joking about death. These subtle signs shouldn’t be brushed off—they’re as important as overt cries for help and worth a check as little as “hey you keep making these jokes, I just want to make sure you really are okay?” If someone is talking about feeling hopeless, giving away possessions, withdrawing from loved ones, or engaging in risky behavior, these are red flags.

5. Offer practical support: Whether it’s helping with daily tasks, providing a ride to a therapy appointment, or just sitting quietly with them, practical support can be a lifeline.

6: Encourage professional help: Gently suggest therapy, medical care, or other professional help if the person hasn’t already sought it. Be patient and compassionate, understanding that reaching out can be terrifying for them.

7. Be present: Sometimes the best thing you can do is just be there. Your physical and emotional presence can provide comfort, even when there are no words.

If you have a loved one who you worry is going through something, or has confided in you and you are worried for them. Don’t wait. Speak to them. Ask them how you can help, what’s going on, listen. If you’re afraid for them, even after they have gotten to the other side, don’t let your fears tear at you for months, tell them then listen and trust that when they say they are good, have come out the other side have an action plan for when they notice the signs - belive them. If you can’t let it go still, seek your own support. The fear of loosing someone you care about is worthy of attention. If you’re reading this because someone you love is struggling with suicidal thoughts, thank you for caring. Supporting someone with suicidal ideation can be incredibly difficult, but your presence matters more than you might realize.

If you or someone you love is struggling, find Resources for Support:

1. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: Dial 988 for immediate help in the U.S. Available 24/7.

2. Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 to connect with a trained crisis counselor.

3. The Trevor Project: Focused on supporting LGBTQ+ youth, The Trevor Project offers crisis intervention and suicide prevention services. Text START to 678678 or visit their website.

4. NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness): NAMI provides free, confidential support for mental health concerns. Call the NAMI Helpline at 1-800-950-NAMI or text NAMI to 741741.

5. The Jed Foundation: Focused on mental health support for teens and young adults, the Jed Foundation works to protect emotional health and prevent suicide. Visit jedfoundation.org for more information.

6. The Veterans Crisis Line: Veterans and their loved ones can call 988 and press 1 or text 838255 for confidential support. Available 24/7.

Suggestions for Keeping Yourself Safe:

1. Create a safety plan: Write down a plan for when suicidal thoughts occur. This could include calling a trusted friend, therapist, family, distracting yourself with an activity you enjoy, or going to a safe place where you can feel grounded and making an appointment with your doctor.

2. Reach out to a support network: Whether it’s friends, family, or a therapist, let someone know how you’re feeling. It’s important not to isolate yourself when you’re struggling.

3. Remove means: If you’re feeling unsafe, remove items that could be harmful or ask someone you trust to hold onto them temporarily. There is no shame in this ever.

4. Practice grounding techniques: When suicidal thoughts take over, try grounding yourself with techniques like deep breathing, focusing on your senses, or engaging in mindfulness exercises. These can help bring you back to the present moment. Call on your faith if you need to to get by, play with your pet anything to help you get grounded and move through the feeling

5. Remember that feelings pass: In the heat of the moment, it can feel like the pain will last forever. But emotions are temporary, and feelings—even the darkest ones—eventually pass. That feelings are normal and natural and have no moral judgement, feel it, acknowledge it, and let it move through knowing another feeling will come your way take its place.

Recovery isn’t pretty, and life isn’t perfect; but you are worth fighting for.

[bl0w-m3]

𝓑𝓞𝓡𝓓𝓔𝓡𝓛𝓘𝓝𝓔 𝓟𝓔𝓡𝓢𝓞𝓝𝓐𝓛𝓘𝓣𝓨 𝓓𝓘𝓢𝓞𝓡𝓓𝓔𝓡

Side note: if you are not diagnosed with this disorder but relate to any/all of the symptoms, please do further research and speak to a personal mental health provider! (I know medical diagnosis is out of question for some people with certain healthcare, but please do a lot of research before self-diagnosing!)

Borderline Personality Disorder, commonly abbreviated to BPD, is a cluster B personality disorder characterized by unstable mood, behavior and relationships. Stemming from long-term abuse, BPD affects how one sees themself and others to the detriment of that person. It sounds very clean cut and simple, but it’s far from.

With BPD comes severe emotional instability and fluctuation of self-image. Unlike people with Bipolar (a chemical disorder with symptoms very similar to BPD) who’s mood fluctuates over longer spans of time, people with Borderline’s self image and emotions can change from minute to minute. People with borderline feel emotions at a much higher intensity than those without. Not just sad, but suicidal. Not just happy but euphoric. There is no “gray” in emotional states. These emotional scan fluctuate from minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day or week to week. Emotion is also highly dependent on environmental factors such as friends and family. Whether one feels as if they have a “god complex” or so depressed they are suicidal, there is usually an external factor causing the stress or euphoria.

An extreme example of this, and another trait of BPD, includes having what the community like to call a “Favorite Person (FP)”. When somebody with BPD has a FP, they center their entire sense of self around that person. That one person become their emotional world, and often times need constant reassurance from this person due to fear of abandonment.

Fear of abandonment plays a very important role as well. People with Borderline usually have a very intense fear of being left behind or “thrown away”. This usually stems from the trauma that caused the BPD itself. Unfortunately, abandonment can happen more often for people experiencing BPD due to their nature to jump in and out of relationships (both platonic and romantic) and they’re extreme emotional needs that other often cannot meet.

Another part of BPD is known as “mirroring”. One of the reasons Borderline persons have an unstable self image is because it often changes based on who they’re around. Likely due to the fear of abandonment and the already unstable self image, and person with BPD can slightly or drastically change their personality, mannerisms, and even interests depending on who they’re in contact with.

As far a unstable relationships, people with borderline often find it hard to maintain safe and stable relationships, often viewing them as “completely good” or “completely bad”, also known as black-and-white thinking, also known as “splitting”.

Impulsivity is another characteristic, with sufferers often making impulsive and irrational decisions. This impulsiveness is usually towards things that cause harm such as Self Mutilation, Eating Disorders, and substance abuse. This all contributes to the person trying to manage their feelings of instability.

The disorder is also accompanied by intense feelings of anger, paranoia, dissociation/derealization, and stress.

Many in the community describe having BPD as the emotional equivalent of having 3rd degree burns over your entire body. It’s an extremely intense disorder that many don’t make it through.

If you’re experiencing symptoms and feel alone, please reach out. Somebody would rather hear your story than go to your funeral.

More information:

Borderline Personality Disorder - The Mayo Clinic

Borderline Personality Disorder - NLM (Box 2 for Diagnostic Criteria)

Borderline Personality Disorder Forum!

[sysmedsaresexist]

Hi! Long time listener, first time caller.

In a previous post you talked about plural people who were accepted for their plurality by families and communities due to spirituality and culture, but not so of DID. I would really love to read about examples of cultures with this attitude of you have any, to compare thoughts and opinions of the multiple self around the world that aren't the Western singletcentric view?

Much love for all you do

!!! YES

Yes yes yes

I love asks, delicious

If you could pass the post along, that would be helpful, the closest post I can remember making is about cultures that use and view dissociation in a positive way

It's not so much that they're plural and accepted, it's that the experience of a more fluid and dynamic sense of self and the experience of possession in spiritual and cultural contexts is accepted and embraced in community healing, rather than shunned and pathologized.

There is not a culture that experiences anything close to what endogenic systems are experiencing-- plurality is a new cultural experience developed using the internet as a form of culture (see Samuel Veissiere's work for a better explanation, here's my post making fun of him). The closest would be mediums, which is another accepted and embraced form of dissociation, but by looking at how, where, and why mediumship is accepted, you can transfer that basic understanding to a wider scale and more innate forms of dissociation. This is largely based in how children are raised and how they're taught to use dissociation in the development of their sense of self as they age.

The problem comes when you try to pathologize those experiences. DID exists cross culturally, yes, that's proven, but at what level distress starts to interfere is a more accurate way to view things. In cultures where possession is an accepted manifestation, distress has a much higher threshold. For example, in cultures in Brazil where possession is accepted, someone could... call out of work to attend ceremonies without fear of losing their job, because their job shares those beliefs and understands. Participation in those ceremonies is more healing to the individual than therapy would be, and expression would be much more florid, because that's just how they do. These experiences of possession also include a lot more causes-- for example, grief over the recent loss of a loved one can result in a florid presentation that is totally normal by cultural standards, but it's not even remotely close to DID-- not in cause, manifestation, biological processes, anything. It's important for clinicians to have a deep understanding of how culture plays into manifestations that would otherwise be pathologized in ANY capacity.

These are a couple starter articles to help give you some terms and concepts to find more! I tried to order them from pathological to anthropological-- so starting with dissociation across cultures, to the development of the sense of self across cultures. Genuinely, this rabbit hole is just never ending, because once you get into the development of sense of self, you get into the way memories are stored across different cultures, which plays into memory recall in DID, and-- stop me, please.

Culture Bound Dissociation: a comparative analysis by Eli Somer (the guy who came up with MADD) is a great start

Culture, trauma and dissociation: A broadening perspective for our field

The Cross-Cultural Assessment of Dissociation

If you can find Trauma and Dissociation in Paradise (Hawaii) I HIGHLY recommend it, and the book it comes from, it was such a good read

“This ‘prison’ where I cannot heal:” Interactions of culture, dissociation, and treatment among individuals who dissociate

Beyond the DSM-5 Diagnoses: A Cross-Cultural Approach to Assessing Trauma Reactions

Culture and the Self: A New Global Perspective

Culture, Method, and the Content of Self-Concepts: Testing Trait, Individual-Self-Primacy, and Cultural Psychology Perspectives

Culture and the Self. Implications for Cognition, Emotion, and Motivation (PDF)

Cultural Orientation of Self-Bias in Perceptual Matching

Cultural and Historical Differences in Concepts of Self and Their Effects on Attitudes Toward Having and Giving

Self and Culture

The Social Self: The Role of the Social Situation

Being oneself through time: Bases of self-continuity across 55 cultures (PDF)

Constructivist Self-Construal: A Cross-Cultural Comparison

Identity Formation across Cultures: The Interaction of Personal, Societal, and Historical Change

Cross-cultural differences in memory specificity

[bpdarlingx]

After dealing with it for years without realising I just got formally diagnosed with OCD.

I had no idea how much it is intertwined with all my other disorders. Like Relationship OCD makes my BPD/ social anxiety so much worse because the cognitive distortions become obsessions that I then need to neutralise with both mental & physical compulsions i.e reassurance seeking etc.

It also makes my PTSD harder to overcome because the OCD convinces me if I don’t complete a certain routine when leaving the house for example my loved ones will die - this is heavily linked to traumatic grief and the fear of not being able to say goodbye properly which has happened in the past.

Even though my Dad has OCD I never truly understood what it is because it’s so misrepresented and has so many different sub-types/ themes.

The rigid cognitive processing style inherent to OCD has also kept me stuck from truly recovering from my ED because I see things in very black & white/ ‘all or nothing’ and can’t fathom not being so strict with food rules or having self compassion because I’m convinced something bad will happen if I don’t follow my rules.

I’m glad I have a name of the disorder that causes graphic intrusive thoughts because I truly thought I was a monster or in some half psychosis - nope it was OCD.

I’m hopefully starting exposure & response prevention (ERP) therapy soon but I’m having a really hard time accepting yet another diagnosis. On the one hand I feel like I know myself a bit better now and I always suspected it wasn’t ’just anxiety’ causing my rumination spirals & intrusive thoughts but it’s hard because OCD is hard and so misunderstood.

Anyways, if anyone has experience living with OCD and what has helped you, please let me know! :) 🌻🩷