This is my agere side blog where I'm going to share my thoughts and experiences with regression! I've been struggling with depression for years, and there are days when I think about just ending it a lot. Please bear with me.
<3 keep it in mind that im 16, so dni if you can't keep this sfw (ill block you)
<3 my little age is somewhere between 2 and 5
<3 i dont have a cg right now
stuff i like: horses (im a big nerd!!) , Tinkerbell, sanrio, crk (#1 esc fan), whales, alien stage, fluffy blankies twice my size, hsr, arcane, ramen, photography, nana
Main blog!! : @yourdecayinglover im more active here <3
(soft mentions of abuse, agere fic, 854 words, third person)
it was quiet in mama’s house. not the scary kind of quiet that keeps baby on high-alert, but the warm kind. the kind that smelled of fresh laundry and chamomile tea.
baby was curled up on the couch small and still, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket that mama had warmed up in the dryer. baby hadn’t said much since arriving. mama didn’t ask why. she just sat nearby and kept the space safe.
“welcome home, sweet girl,” mama said softly, tucking the blanket under baby’s feet. “you don’t have to be brave, or big, or okay. you can just be baby.”
baby’s eyes welled up, and mama noticed right away.
“do you wanna have lap time, baby? want rockies with mama?” she offered gently—no pushing, no demanding.
“you’ll let me have lap time, m-mama?” baby asked as if in disbelief. she looked up with careful eyes, like she was unknowingly reliving something through a physical ache in her chest and belly.
mama smiled warmly and nodded. “you can always have lap time with mama, darling.”
she opened her arms and baby timidly climbed into her lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. mama rocked gently, her hand stroking baby’s back.
“you were supposed to have someone like me,” mama whispered. “you should’ve never had to go through that alone.”
baby’s whole body shook. not from fear—but from relief.
baby stayed in mama’s lap for a long time, her head tucked under mama’s chin. her little fingers curled into mama’s shirt like she was scared to let go. she wasn’t crying anymore, but she hadn’t talked either.
mama didn’t mind. she just kept rocking. back and forth, back and forth. she hummed sometimes too. nothing specific, just soft, sleepy sounds that baby could melt into.
after a while, baby’s voice came out quiet as she lifted her head from mama’s chest. “mama?”
“mama’s here, baby,” mama said softly, still rocking.
“i dunno if i… if i ever had a real home,” baby said. her voice was shaky, like it didn’t wanna come out at all. “not like… this kind.”
mama gave baby all the time she needed and just listened close.
“i tried t’ talk about it before,” baby mumbled. “but i… i always felt dumb. like maybe it wasn’t… bad ‘nuff. like i was jus’ bein’ too much. l-like i was lying…”
she rubbed at her face. “i told my friends. teachers. they never said it was okay to call it- i mean. i dunno. i never really called it anythin’. jus’ felt wrong.”
baby shifted again, like her chest hurt. “sometimes i think… what if it was just normal? what if i made it worse in my head? what if i was just… dramatic.”
mama’s hand paused for a second, then went back to rubbing slow circles on her back.
“but it hurt, mama,” baby whispered. “i didn’t even do anythin’ wrong but they still made me feel like i was bad. like i was always too loud or too needy or too… me.”
mama nodded softly in response, letting baby speak.
“mama?” baby said again, smaller now. “do i… does it still count? even if it wasn’t… like- really bad stuff? even if nobody ever said it was a- a…” baby stopped herself and whined, pressing into mama’s chest.
“abuse, huh, baby? they never called it abuse,” baby nodded desperately, let out a whimper, and tightened her hold on the back of mama’s shirt. “i know, bubby… i know. it absolutely counts, baby. you were just a little girl doing her best. they should’ve loved you better, my darling. and the people you trusted should’ve believed you.”
baby’s lip trembled, soothing strokes still being traced across her back. “but i dunno if i’m allowed to feel this bad about it…”
mama’s voice stayed steady. “you are. you can feel as much as you do about it, my love. nobody gets to tell you that you were overreacting. you lived it, baby girl. it was your heart, and your life. not theirs.”
baby inhaled deeply, her breath hitching in between.
“and baby…” mama said, soft but firm. “you’re allowed to call it abuse. because it was.”
that broke baby open. her shoulders shook as the tears came again—heavy but not loud. just that quiet kind of cry that came from deep down, like something was being let go after being carried too long.
mama’s arms tightened just a little. “you were never too dramatic, sweet girl. never overreacting, never sensitive, never difficult. you were just too alone because those people never saw you. you had to hold it all yourself, in your big aching heart.”
baby sobbed, chest rising and falling like the words were peeling something heavy off her. “mama…” she whispered. “it hurt s-so bad… my heart h-hurt…”
“i know, baby. i know.” mama kissed the top of her head. “you didn’t deserve any of that. not a single bit. and you don’t have to carry it all by yourself anymore. mama’s here now. mama’s right here.”
baby no longer needed permission to feel. she just needed mama.
Shoutout to people who have a messy regression headspace, who's regression feels like an emotional flashback, to those who's regression is a burden, and to all age regressors who've had their regression negatively impact their lives.
Oh to be small enough to be picked up. Want for a caregiver to pick me up and place me on their hip as they go throughout their day. Wanna curl my little fingers in their shirt and rest my head on their shoulder. Wanna be bounced and held and kept close and feel safe and loved.
Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend really really hard that someone’s here to pick me up and take care of me
baby who's notices little things and gets easily anxious, which leads to spiraling and scary thoughts
x
mama who grounds her baby and reminds them that while their thoughts are real, they might not always be true. she calms them down and baby's heart settles softly . . 💭
Age regression is always portrayed as this pure super cute, electable comforting thing in social media and I’m sorry but, I’m tired, there’s sometimes it’s not. Sometimes age regressing is extreme feelings, it’s hitting your head and screaming in pain and laying on the floor and kicking and wanting it to stop. Sometimes it’s shaking in anxiety, biting your hands and stimming uncomfortably. Sometimes theres no comfort, sometimes the triggers are not good, and that’s fine too. Age regressing does not mean pure state, it means a much younger one. Just that. It can be violent and ugly too
I can't be the only one who finds regressing kinda embarrassing. I'm helpless and I can't do anything because I'm in the state of a baby. And also, you can't raise your voice even just a bit or I will start sobbing like no tomorrow.
Mommy Ambessa who is so used to speaking harshly, so she's very careful to manage her tone when she speaks to you
Mommy Ambessa who likes to sit on the ground with you between her knees and braid your hair
Mommy Ambessa who will cuddle you for as long as you want, because she likes to be close to you
Mommy Ambessa who adores every minute with you because just like your regression gives you a second chance at childhood, it gives her a second chance at motherhood.
