#there's also like....dissociation mentions

[littlemissshifter]

ummm idk how to explain this without sounding like a total debbie downer but the rise of fascism in the world really makes me doubt shifting for some reason like. why am i even here in such a shit fuck ass reality. does that make sense 😭 like maybe it’s just the fact that these situations make me feel out of control and hopeless like wdym there’s shit like human trafficking and nazis and genocide what the fuck.

idk what to do anymore and it scares me. it feels like my affirming isn’t enough and shifting is fake or something and i’m just dissociating from reality or something to cope with events happening in my country. 😵‍💫

hi! This is really important to talk about and thank you for bringing it up.

A lot of people can feel hopeless and lost with what's going around the world as a whole. We need to realise that these things exist and they exist in every reality. Not particularly the topics mentioned above, but the good and the bad. If even one or the other did not exist, there is negative in too much positive (eg being self sacrificial in the name of being kind) and positive in too much negative (people realising things need to change and stepping up to be the change they want in society).

I'm not saying these things should exist no matter what. I'm saying is that the good and the bad will exist anyways. Because the universe is all about balance and one without the other is non-existent.

You cannot change the ways of the world. But, you can change the ways of your world. Your reality.

Even if we all exist on this earth right now, we live in different realities. You're not only existing in this reality but in many others. The thing is you're only aware of existing in this reality. You can change that anytime. It is common to worry about the world, of how things are and what you want to do to stop it. You can do that as it is also the part of your reality. The world you look at is your reality. Now, you did not create 'this' whole reality. It existed before you were aware of it. Collective human consciousness created it.

You were 'born' or exist in this reality because you were shaped by it's beliefs. You played a part in it too. You were unaware then.

But, now you're aware. You can choose anything and decide it in your world. It will become true as reality is you. The only way to help the world as a collective is to help ourselves rise and become more. Become what we are truly as humans which is more than any physical event that has happened or is or will be happening in the 3D. This does not mean to stop helping people. But we need to help ourselves too by rising above the conditioning of the 'matrix' and knowing what we're capable of.

Again I'll say, let whoever runs the world run it, you just have to run yours.

[cass1x1]

[  WALL  ]  *  your muse pins my muse against the closest wall. / whee micah and lian

@sangre

v. i : logos

Over time, she has learned to sense the change. It is all in absences: the absence of sounds when he moves, the absence his warmth in their home. The absence of the sharpest knife in the kitchen, when she goes to start dinner.

Over time, she has also learned how to forestall her own end. Micah has a number of tricks—hand left carelessly on the stove, picking up a blade the wrong way. She has watched them hurt themselves when they think she is not looking, over and over, and she is torn between gratitude that he chooses her life over his comfort, and guilt that she would recover faster than him anyway. Few of her ideas have worked, though. Whatever comes over him, whatever power takes control of his body in these moments, it cannot be talked through or distracted or waited out. It seems those harsh sensations are the only effective ones.

Lian uses her better angle to bang Micah’s arm against the wall. It’s well toned, still silty from the project they were working on earlier, but perhaps in surprise, they drop the knife. Lian’s eyes flick to theirs, and although she is sure it is imagination, she feels she can see the two Micah’s, warring for control.

It is impulsive, an intrusive thought at first. Two Micah’s is not exactly a fantasy she has explored before, but the thought crops up in an old voice. I could control both of them. If it were too late, he could easily throw her off, but she can see the hesitation in that face. She leans forward, boxing their chest against the wall with her own, and buries her face in his neck.

Lian’s teeth find the spot, and she bares down hard, almost hard enough to break skin. She reaches up to their biceps, digging her nails in through their shirt. He gasps, tilting his head the other way to give her space. She sucks at the already reddening skin, licking it, soothing it over, knowing the hickey it will leave is going to be a serious one.

“You’re mine tonight,” she whispers.

Their reply is horse, but fully, completely, clear-headed them. “Yours.”

v. ii : epithumia

Lian cannot remember what they are at this event for. Micah’s family just beyond the door turns any occasion into a party, loud and brash and warm, but the details are forgotten in a trail following Micah’s touch, up her arm and towards her collar. His fingers are so gentle, she might not notice if it weren’t for the fact that she can’t think about anything else.

When they speak, it is low, private, a voice she is unaccustomed to in her roommate-turned-fake-boyfriend. “You look beautiful tonight.”

The compliment, so sincere and so unexpected, draws the truth out of her before she has the forethought to mask it. “I thought you would like this dress.” At the moment, Lian is quite fond—it has a slit on the sleeve that allows them to touch her directly, goosebumps popping up in the wake of their fingers.

They do not answer right away, seemingly transfixed on their own hand. Their fingers reach the shoulder seam, and Lian finds herself holding her breath. She tilts her head to the other side. Her hair falls away off her shoulder. Micah continues to trace his hand up her shoulder. Her neck. Her jaw. His hand flattens, and his thumb brushes over her bottom lip.

They have kissed before. Still, Lian needs to break the spell to check. “I really want to kiss you.” Her voice comes out a rasped whisper, like it knows it doesn’t really belong her.

She watches. Micah licks their own lips and swallows nothing. His hand settles against her cheek more comfortable, and he answers a quiet, “Yeah,” already leaning in to her. Lian cannot wait for him to reach her. She shifts, turning to face them, lips already catching his.

They have kissed before, but not like this. Micah’s hand stays cupping her cheeks, but he leads her gently toward him, and she follows eagerly. Eventually, he stops, but Lian keeps moving toward him, pressing him against the wall. His hands roam down the open slits of her sleeves, only touching her arm but sending chills through her entire body. Lian’s are moving too—fisting into their hair, running down their lapels. Seeking, seeking, seeking.

A sound bubbles up between them—Lian is not sure whose—and they part for air. Their chests move in time, rising and falling hard and fast. Lian skims her eyes along his chest, his throat, and up to his eyes. His eyes are fixed at her own lips, which quirk up in response before she leans in again. With the wall, she’s at an advantage to hold him there, enjoying whatever he is willing to offer her.

v. iii : pthora

It is a misplaced sense of self-preservation that guides Lian’s actions. She knows she will make it out of this encounter alive, and she knows she will not make it out of this encounter alive. Just as she knows the pressure of Micah’s hands, moving with that uncanny efficiency, cutting off her air. Her hands reach up, grabbing at the soft weblike skin between the thumb and the first finger, and she pinches. Micah’s hands release, but their eyes do not clear. She didn’t expect them to; he is too far gone.

Micah reacts with that same quickness that she has learned to recognize, already reaching to stop her. She grabs him by the wrists, trying to hold them both on one hand as she wheels around. The closet that she was rummaging in is still partially open, but its door slams shut as she presses those hands against it.

For a moment, that is all there is. They’re both breathing heavily as she grips his wrists, pinned just above his head. She needs both hands to hold him, and she knows that puts her at a disadvantage, but they’re level. Same height, eye to eye, they both just breathe. Lian stares into their eyes, always searching for that spark of the familiar. She is not afraid to die, but she is struck with the perverse longing that they be with her when it happens, really truly with her. This other self—she knows it is Micah, but in this moment, she knows he is not all there. She cannot ask them to watch her die with their full heart, so she does not. Instead, she can only grieve that his eyes as she goes will be clouded by whatever takes ahold of him.

The moment passes, and Lian can feel the muscles in those forearms straining against her. She lets go, tired from the strain of keeping them at bay and from the effort it takes to resist a death that won’t even last the night. It is still so early; she might be up again before sunset. Micah’s hands go for her throat, this time in a slightly more comfortable position. She bites down on her lip, reaching for his wrists but resisting her own instinct to try and pry him off again. Holding him gently there, it takes time before she feels the familiar threshold, where thoughts cease to be coherent. The world grows colder, and she tries to fix her attention on the warmth of their own pulse under her fingers. Hers grows faint, and she can feel herself slipping. Her grip grows weaker. She lets her eyes close, knowing this will at least be a relatively peaceful end.

[qoldenskies]

just sensory issues wise that closet must have been nightmarish. Especially considering how awful silence and body noises are. I've had so many moments where my own breathing was what tipped me over the edge into a panicky sensory overload.

Everything was probably sticky with blood, piss, vomit and sweat too.

every time i think about the closet it just gets worse because dear lord it probably got so hot in there so fast. i doubt it was properly ventilated, so ironically it probably felt a little like being buried alive

[kkoct-ik]

rewatching a dr2 lp and i honestly never noticed how much hajime dissociates. i almost wanna make a masterpost

[j-1-nx]

We've been at a con for the past few days and I just wanted to announce that we got a wig for me at the con for all of $12 and I'm internally freaking out about it /pos

[adolins-heart]

I have another one but it's separate so here.

If you have insomnia bc of anxiety, or your insomnia triggers anxiety (similar but different things 🤷) pick a Thing. For example, during the day, when I start thinking depressive or anxiety thoughts, my go to is "I wanna curl up in my bed and sleep". It doesn't fix it but sometimes there isn't fixing or talking yourself out of the thought, so a broken record response helps.

Specifically with insomnia, I will pick something to "write a story" about. This is when I do most of my oc fanfic plotting, bc I'm more likely to be able to figure out those ideas again when I wake up bc there's an original source material (if I were to think about my original works I may make the insomnia worse bc I NEED to write it down before I forget). But you could pick something you really enjoy talking about, something you're studying, music, whatever. Just pick something that's your "topic for the night" and whenever you start to drift into thoughts that make your insomnia worse, just jump back to the topic.

It sounds a lot simpler than it is, trust me. Sometimes I'll lay there just repeating the topic word over and over in my head bc the moment I stop I'm spiralling again. But trust me when I say that late at night when insomnia is keeping you up is rarely the time to unpack all those thoughts, it's okay to just avoid them in whatever way you can. If it's still a concern come the morning sunlight you can take steps to work through it then.

[scythe-wolf]

Problematic take of the day: Thinking Out Loud isn't offensive DID rep because Galen is a close and personal friend of mine and not just another "serial killer alter" trope. Also that bitch deserved to die.

[unstablemotions]

people: you need to get an official diagnosis from a psychiatrist!!!

psychiatrists: *misdiagnosed me with different things like +4 times and filled me with unnecessary medicine*

[ghostboyhood]

no fucking wayyy dude

[shallowseeker]

The thing is...I don't hate Sam.

[rubys-delusions]

polyfragmentation is not just having 100+ alters (there is no minimum number you need to have), and you dont need to be a ramcoa survivor to have polyfragmented DID.

ramcoa is mentioned a lot in PF spaces because many survivors end up polyfragmented due to the nature of the abuse- but not every PF system experienced ramcoa.

your trauma may not feel severe enough to you to cause polyfragmentation, but just like with DID theres no set bar for what "counts" as traumatizing and what doesnt, especially to the mind of a 0-4 year old.

[swordmaid]

this dialogue path im so 😭😭🤭🤭

[canwehavehextonite]

i gave up on having a system list on my blog long ago bc i have about 30 names written down in my notes app and i know theres still more i havent accounted for. doing a system census is fucking exhausting and way more ppl in the system front and use tumblr than i thought 🧍🏻‍♂️

[there-will-be-a-way]

I decided to go through my old journals and collect the entries that seem meaningful to me. This is what stood out to me so far:

Christmas has always been a difficult time for me (I thought my struggles around this time of the year were new)

There is an entry from a part named R. and I have no idea who he is. A letter from a clinic I went to for my DID back in 2017 also mentioned a part named R. as a gatekeeper. But I genuinely don't know this dude.

The majority of the entries are parts talking to each other - we seemed to have wayyyyy better communication than we do now (a question in the SKID-D asked if you ever write down conversations you have with yourself. I said no, that makes me feel crazy. But past me did this a loooot appareantly.)

[ereh-emanresu-tresni]

Putting pathological psychology terms on the shelf until people remotely learn how to use them

[maxdurden]

i got that kind of mentally ill swag where everyone in my life knows that i need to be medicated except my therapist ✌️💕🌎