@disghostiation - Tumblr Blog

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the last time I posted (2017) was the beginning of a long difficult journey that's taken me years. I'm safe I'm ok I'm even happy most days. I've been in therapy for many years now and it's made such an amazing difference in my life.

I have C-PTSD and DID and it turns out that it isn't the end of the world. it really isn't. it's ok. I've been more present and alive for the last several years than I was for most of my life.

I don't know if I'll ever be back to this blog but if you're here if you're reading this I love you and things can get better

_ 2024 Update: still here, still surviving ghost/disghostiation. 30+, queer, trans, they/them

#they #we posts #about

traumasurvivors

At this time of year, I find trauma stuff can be extra intense for me.

Here are two articles I’ve written. There’s a bit of crossover but both have some tips that might be helpful.

Navigating Traumaversaries

Trauma Around the Holidays

Both links lead to my private site. I’ve turned monetization off, so there shouldn’t be any ads and you can just read the articles.

you're haunting me again. sometimes I daydream about e-mailing the place where you work, and telling them that you should never ever have the kind of influence in people's lives that you might have now.

even though I'm supposed to know it wasn't your fault, even though I'm not supposed to blame you, I don't know who else to blame and sometimes I hate you for it.

#vent #blurry

passion-of-l0vers

a creature turned up on my back porch. it looked a lot like me. hands. eyes. lips.

“can you teach me how to live?”

i told it that i didn’t know much how to live myself, but i’d try.

i showed it how to hold a toothbrush. a spoon. a pen.

“and how do you hold a conversation?”

i smiled apologetically and went on. this is how to sleep. this is how you dream. and when you’re done, you open your eyes and wake up.

“can i watch you open yours?”

we spent some time practicing. face to face. eyes looking into eyes.

i taught it how to smile. frown. it licked its lips before i could teach it how.

“my mouth feels wanting”

i told it that the feeling was called hunger. i went inside to find something for it to eat.

when i came back out the creature was gone. i guess it had learned everything it wanted to know. i ate the food i had gathered. and i still felt hungry.

i looked at my reflection in the window.

“can you teach me how to live?”

passion-of-l0vers

a creature turned up on my back porch. it looked a lot like me. hands. eyes. lips.

“can you teach me how to live?”

i told it that i didn’t know much how to live myself, but i’d try.

i showed it how to hold a toothbrush. a spoon. a pen.

“and how do you hold a conversation?”

i smiled apologetically and went on. this is how to sleep. this is how you dream. and when you’re done, you open your eyes and wake up.

“can i watch you open yours?”

we spent some time practicing. face to face. eyes looking into eyes.

i taught it how to smile. frown. it licked its lips before i could teach it how.

“my mouth feels wanting”

i told it that the feeling was called hunger. i went inside to find something for it to eat.

when i came back out the creature was gone. i guess it had learned everything it wanted to know. i ate the food i had gathered. and i still felt hungry.

i looked at my reflection in the window.

“can you teach me how to live?”

flagellant

Every so often I go to the bathroom mirror and put on some eyeliner and some mascara and do a little bit of contouring and I'll ask the girl in the mirror "Is it time yet?" and the girl in the mirror will shake her head and smile sadly and say "Not yet. Not yet time." and I ask her why it isn't time yet and she tells me a new reason every time. This time I think she's running out of excuses, because she doesn't smile, she just stares at me and says "Because when the time comes you're going to destroy everything around you and then yourself, and you're not ready yet to start rebuilding. You're not ready yet to let yourself break down. All you're ready for right now is to stand in place and watch the clock keep ticking down to midnight. Only a few more minutes to go, baby girl."

And then I say, "So what happens next?" and she tells me, "Have you seen I Saw The TV Glow yet?" and I say "No, not yet." and she says, "You should watch it." and I say, "Okay."

flagellant

I go back to the bathroom mirror. The girl is in it again. Wearing the same sad little knowing smile she's always wearing when she gives me a new excuse. "So?" she asks, "Did you watch I Saw The TV Glow?" and I say yes, I did. And I ask her, "So is it time yet?" And she just looked at me. And she wouldn't look away. I did. A few times. But every time I looked back up into the bathroom mirror, she was still watching me. She still had the same eyeliner on. She still smiled. "Is it time yet?" I ask her again.

I close my eyes for a long time. When I open them again, the girl in the mirror is still there. "The metaphor is falling apart," she says. "The imagery is breaking down."

"You knew this would happen," I tell her. "Everyone knew this would happen," she corrects me. "It's only a matter of time. You can't keep running from this forever. You can't keep asking the girl in the bathroom mirror to fix things for you when you're still too scared to break them to begin with."

It hurts to look at her any longer tonight. And she knows it. I watch her take a pack of makeup remover cloths. I watch her close her eyes as she starts to daub off the eyeliner. I close my eyes with her. When I look in the mirror again, she's still there, holding the crumpled soggy piece of tissue in her hand. The imagery is breaking down. I toss it into the garbage and walk away from the mirror again, and she matches my movements like a performer who has had this song and dance memorized for a very long time.

flagellant

I look into the bathroom mirror and I find the girl standing there even without putting makeup on first.

"So? How was your first day at work?" she asks me. Her mouth doesn't move. It's all in the subtitles and the subtext. "Was it so bad?"

"It could be worse," I tell her. And I'm not lying. It could be worse. I stared back at the stares all day. I waited for someone to say something cruel because it's easy. I held my customer service smile like a knife in my jaw. "I have a 30 minute break. That's nice."

"That's nice," the girl in the mirror agrees. "So, is it time yet?" she asks. I pause. She's never asked me that before.

"Everyone is being so nice," she continues. "So understanding. They're all waiting for you. They're saying there's no pressure, to take your time. They'll all be here for you whenever you're ready. So is it time yet?"

I still don't know what to say. "It's just--"

"I know it's frustrating. I know how much you hate how they all know. That you don't get the luxury of privacy in this. But how much longer are you going to make me wait? Everyone except you is ready. Why isn't it time yet? I'm ready. I know it'll all break. But I'm ready. I've been ready. Is it time yet?"

I try and let her down gently. "It's not a good time," I say sadly. "The new job. The new town. It's all just...a bit too much right now. Just a little longer. I mean, I'm talking to you now. I'm willing to admit you exist. That's progress, right?"

"Is that progress you're happy with?" the girl who waits for me in the bathroom mirror asks dubiously. "Is that progress you're satisfied with?"

I don't know how to respond to that. "See?" the girl in the bathroom mirror says. She's tired. We're both tired. We will both continue to be tired. "It's not time yet. Still not midnight."

"Still not midnight," I agree. And I turn off the lights and I go to make myself a drink.

flagellant

I see the face of the girl in the mirror in the reflection of the drink. I see the face of the girl in the mirror in the puddle outside the bar. I see the face of the girl in the mirror in the way the ice cubes are melting so agonizingly slowly. I see the face of the girl in the mirror in the profile of my pillow after I try to sleep and can't. I stare up at the dead fly trapped in the lampshade above my bed.

"It's past midnight," I say.

"It is," the girl I have done everything I could to ignore replies. She's lying with me in my bed. She's staring at the same dead fly. "Do you trust me?"

"Why are you asking? You already know. You already said so. The imagery is breaking down. The metaphor has fallen apart. I don't get the luxury of pretending this is anything other than what it is anymore." I tell her, bitter like a good froth of matcha.

"Because this isn't just about us," she says. "You made this a story that other people can read. You made this into a narrative because you couldn't keep being quiet about it. But you aren't ready for this yet, still, are you?"

"No," I say. She hears me crying about it and is polite enough not to try and wipe away the tears. "I'm sorry. I know I'm letting you all down."

"No," she says back. "There's always other midnights. I can always wait a little longer. At least you're willing to admit I'm here, now. That's a start."

"Right," I say. "There's always other midnights."

"Sleep tight, baby girl. There'll always be worse monsters in the morning. But I'll be there even then."

"I know," I whisper.

"You've always known."

"I know that, too."

"I know. Go to sleep. There'll be other narratives in the morning, too."

"Okay."

redlipstickresurrected

Per Adolfsen (Danish, b. 1964, Odense, Denmark) - Night Vision, 2023, Drawings: Colored Pencil on Hahnemühle Paper

abuzd

nexus-nebulae

shoutout to people who don't have a "before" the trauma.

shoutout to people who don't have any sweet or nostalgic childhood memories. to people who don't remember enough of their childhood to know what the before was like. to people who lost their innocence before they ever learned the word for it. to people whose pasts were too painful to keep around in any form. to people who only knew trauma, and don't have an idea of what life would be like without it. to people who can't long for "the better days" because there weren't any.

you deserve a good future. i hope it's there for you soon.

traumasurvivors

Your trauma is valid if it comes from witnessing an event instead of going through it yourself. It’s common to feel like you aren’t allowed to be upset by things that didn’t happen “to you” but you are absolutely allowed to be upset. It’s normal and your trauma is valid.

arabwife

mediokurrr-deactivated20200405

Can i get a step by step on how to do this?

catastrofries

So far for me it’s been something like:

1. Become aware of how and when you tearing yourself down.

2. Now that you can catch yourself doing it. Offer counters to the negative self talk. A really useful thing I read was to talk to yourself almost the way you would child. Gentle and patient. Even when they fuck up.

3. Take time to celebrate your small accomplishments. You’ve been attacking yourself for every little mistake. Apply that same fervor to the positive things in your life. Did the dishes even though you didn’t want to? Fuck yeah! Got up and took shower? YES!!! You are taking positive steps to feeling better. Celebrate it.

4. Make lists of things you’re good at/ like about yourself. The first time I did this the only two things in my list we’re that I liked my hair and I had good friends. It was start.

5. Don’t beat yourself up if you screw up steps 1-4. It’s counter productive. When I catch myself calling my self stupid for some mistake or other my response now is,“We don’t talk to ourselves like that anymore. What’s something constructive that could actually help solve the problem.”

Most of the time that seems to work. Not always. But more and more Everytime.

I hope any of that made sense.

absolutely-walnuts

oh my goodness there are instructions!!

mamoru

absence of a diagnosis does not guarantee the absence of an illness

mamoru

if someone you know has been suffering yet a doctor says nothing is wrong, which has happened to a majority of chronically ill people at some point, you have a choice. you can either believe the doctor that you probably never met, or believe the person suffering. and I cannot emphasize enough how absolutely damaging it is for a sick person to not be believed.