Literally No One

Please do not reblog my posts unless I say it’s okay. A lovely friend found my blog but I need a place to rant without worrying them. Ignore this. If you’re wondering, I’m tiny-planty-grower. #a reminder - for when I need some self love #not alone - for when I feel like no one understands me #help and #sad if I’m in crisis or stuck in sadness I also ramble about how I love my s/o on here because I don’t want to completely overwhelm them (don’t worry I definitely tell them how much I love them! And I do it a lot!) . I realize that I have this now on my main blog so the first bit is useless. I haven’t deleted it because it’s familiar and familiarity is soothing to me. . Current trigger tags: #train tw #police tw #gun tw #self harm tw

[nope-body]

Self Care [edit with a second link to post similar to low spoons food but for self care (need to make post)]

Low Spoons Food

Depression Hygiene

Post with a ton of helpful links

[nope-body]

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Okay so I’ve been thinking about the like. sorta gaslighty things my parents would say to me as a kid, and one of the things they would always insist wasn’t true was a very vivid memory I had of falling down our basement stairs as a kid. Like toddler aged, roughly? I remember falling right near the top and tumbling the whole way down.

My parents have always said that I never fell down the stairs, but my sister did a lot (usually just one or two steps). I figured I must have imagined it somehow and dismissed it. Separately, one of the things I always told myself to excuse whatever thing they were telling me that I remembered wrong was that maybe they just were remembering it differently. (I also told myself that I had a really bad memory, which is less relevant, but my biggest excuse for them by far.)

Now that I’m thinking about it, I was always a quiet kid. (It got me yelled at a lot, and I still didn’t get louder.) My parents have told me how independent and quiet I was, even as young at 2 when I sat through a boring 90 minute speech with just a pen and paper for entertainment. I also don’t remember my parents being there when I fell down the stairs.

What if I fell and just wasn’t loud about it? And they just… didn’t ever find out? And so they don’t think I fell down the stairs ever, and bouncy toddler me just never brought it up?

[nope-body]

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I’ve been trying to figure out how much of what my parents did growing up was like… actually abusive and what was just bad parenting and I’m genuinely not sure?

Like yeah, I get super stressed whenever I have to interact with them and they aren’t very good at anything medical and I don’t really remember much of my childhood, which is supposed to be a trauma response or something, but I’m not convinced it adds up to abuse?

I don’t know, I’m still figuring everything out, but I just needed somewhere to vent.

[nope-body]

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I feel like it would be easier to tell if it was physical abuse because that’s the one that’s really clear cut, or at least it seems that way. I’m sure if you’re actually in that situation it doesn’t feel clear. But compared to like… medical neglect? emotional abuse? Those all feel a lot more nebulous.

With medical neglect, how much was my parents ignoring my issues and how much was doctors not caring? With emotional abuse, where do you draw the line between a raised voice and unreasonable yelling? Between actual therapeutic interventions and ignoring your kid?

And my sister had so much of it worse than me because I hid in my room and she yelled back. Does my dad physically dragging her out of her room count as physical abuse? What about how much they yelled at her? (How were they able to take a step towards mending their relationship? Did that actually do anything?)

I don’t know, I just remember how much my friends didn’t like my parents and how much I tried to stay away from my house. I just can’t remember enough to feel confident saying anything about my parents.

[nope-body]

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I’ve been trying to figure out how much of what my parents did growing up was like… actually abusive and what was just bad parenting and I’m genuinely not sure?

Like yeah, I get super stressed whenever I have to interact with them and they aren’t very good at anything medical and I don’t really remember much of my childhood, which is supposed to be a trauma response or something, but I’m not convinced it adds up to abuse?

I don’t know, I’m still figuring everything out, but I just needed somewhere to vent.

[nope-body]

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I feel like it would be easier to tell if it was physical abuse because that’s the one that’s really clear cut, or at least it seems that way. I’m sure if you’re actually in that situation it doesn’t feel clear. But compared to like… medical neglect? emotional abuse? Those all feel a lot more nebulous.

With medical neglect, how much was my parents ignoring my issues and how much was doctors not caring? With emotional abuse, where do you draw the line between a raised voice and unreasonable yelling? Between actual therapeutic interventions and ignoring your kid?

And my sister had so much of it worse than me because I hid in my room and she yelled back. Does my dad physically dragging her out of her room count as physical abuse? What about how much they yelled at her? (How were they able to take a step towards mending their relationship? Did that actually do anything?)

I don’t know, I just remember how much my friends didn’t like my parents and how much I tried to stay away from my house. I just can’t remember enough to feel confident saying anything about my parents.

[nope-body]

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I’ve been trying to figure out how much of what my parents did growing up was like… actually abusive and what was just bad parenting and I’m genuinely not sure?

Like yeah, I get super stressed whenever I have to interact with them and they aren’t very good at anything medical and I don’t really remember much of my childhood, which is supposed to be a trauma response or something, but I’m not convinced it adds up to abuse?

I don’t know, I’m still figuring everything out, but I just needed somewhere to vent.

[nope-body]

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[nope-body]

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[nope-body]

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My roommate told me that I should go for the village housing opportunity. We discussed it, in detail. They said they were happy I was able to find a village house that I could live in at all. But I mentioned meeting my future housemates and now they’re really upset and I just wish they would communicate with me. I don’t know what I can and can’t say and what will and won’t make them upset because I am not able to have that conversation with them. They will never admit to being upset. So as a result I will have to tiptoe around pretty much everything out of caution because I don’t know what will upset them. And I just can’t keep doing this. And I don’t know how to tell them this without making them upset. So yeah, I am excited to be living in a village house. And yeah, I’m okay that I’m not living with them, because this isn’t a sustainable living situation. I still want to be around them, but I can’t try to navigate their emotional responses when they won’t ever discuss their feelings with me.

[nope-body]

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It’s always in the little things. This time, it’s realizing that my parents weren’t the best at parenting. Or at least that it wasn’t normal.

My roommate was borrowing my masks without asking. Not a huge thing, but I’m not confrontational. So instead of asking, I just made sure that a never-opened pack was on top, and checked to see what the seal looked like. Sorta setting a trap, I guess? Definitely not the best decision in hindsight but it was almost second nature. Not that that’s an excuse, just another part of this whole thing. When they took a mask next, they didn’t even bother to close the pack. I’m so used to having to sneak around and make sure that nothing’s out of place so I don’t get blamed for anything that I forgot that other people don’t do that. Other people don’t pay attention that closely. I don’t want to pay attention that closely. I don’t want this history of being told my memory is wrong even after I write things down to make sure that I’m right. That doesn’t happen here, obviously, but I’m still too used to it happening. I just want to know how to socialize.

I’m going to be living in a house with 3 people I barely know next year. I’m terrified but also comforted because I won’t have to worry about personal space, no one is going to feel too comfortable, and I won’t have to struggle to tell anyone off. I’ll have to figure out how to live independently, but I’ll have to do that anyway at some point. I feel bad for disrupting my friend’s plan to room with me but also I don’t know if it’s actually good for me to be living with them. I am bad at enforcing my boundaries and I don’t handle anger well, and they’re so angry and frustrated so much. And I can’t just tell them to stop feeling emotions. But I also feel bad whenever I try to enforce a boundary because they never take it well and it just is so hard. I care about them, but I can’t keep living with them, and I don’t know how to say that without hurting them. But the excuse of living in a village house that’s mostly accessible to me and will allow me to cook again and will be actually Covid safe means that I won’t have to say anything about that.

I’m so tired of having to be The disability advocate. Even when I’m not the only one, I’m the one everyone looks to. And I don’t know any more than anyone else who’s done their research! I’m not more qualified for any special reason! Sometimes I just want to be able to exist in the world without having to advocate for myself. I want to stop worrying if my roommate has been hanging out with our sick friend. I want to know if our friend is still sick or not! I’m just tired of trying to carry everything. People want community, but they don’t want to contribute to it. I can’t keep going forever.

[viewfinder-chernobyl]

SOLUTION TO BEING MUCH TO SCARED TO TALK TO MUTUALS:

FUgkin..... hit em with ur paws......

[yaoist]

i cannot possibly overstate the psychological damage of growing up being abused in a way that is considered so disgusting as to be literally unspeakable and treated as such.

[yaoist]

every single person on this website and everywhere else needs to take a long fucking look at how they talk about and think about csa and how it might fucking feel to have things that literally happened to you be considered so taboo that frank depictions are declared obscene or so disgusting so as to be talked about only in whispered tones

[yaoist]

CAN YOU EVEN BEGIN TO CONCEPTUALIZE THE MULTIPLICATION OF TRAUMA THAT COMES FROM YOUR ABUSE BEING TREATED LIKE RADIOACTIVE WASTE THAT MUST BE BURIED LEST IT CONTAMINATE OTHERS BY ITS VERY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT DESCRIPTION OR EXISTENCE

[roach-works]

i had friends on here that used to be very frank and open about their status as CSA survivors. because they insisted on talking about the subject frankly and with depth and nuance they were called pedophile apologists, which was quickly shortened just to pedos, and constantly harassed. one teenager specifically sent someone she knew to be a csa survivor links to triggering materials in an attempt to get them to reconsider being friends with me because i was also considered a pedo.

the way online spaces decided to Protect The Children from pedophilia has done no such thing, just like we warned you it wouldn't. instead it gave bullies and bigots a perfect label to slap onto any victim they wanted, at the direct expense of csa survivors everywhere. it's also been horrible for queer artists of all sorts. we have been saying this over and over for a decade at least.

im so fucking ANGRY

[honorarycassowary]

#i saw a really enlightening lecture about this#she asked questions like#are survivors allowed to make autobiographical works?#is it better or worse if survivors fictionalise their experiences?#why are they allowed to use some media but not others?#is it the responsibility of a creator or an audience to identify with the abuser or the abused in media?#does the absence of survivor media further isolate children who never get their own stories told?#who can't articulate what they experience or see survival in their future?

tags via boogerwookiesugarcookie

[nope-body]

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A fun thing bodies do when they’re in so much pain and they don’t know how to handle it or fix it is that they will just cause muscle spasms. This is most common for me with subluxations but it really could happen with any kind of nerve pain on the inside of the body (in my experience at least). The muscle spasms are uncontrollable but it’s not like a seizure- I’m fully aware and conscious and can move the non-spasming body parts.

Relatedly, my muscles are a large part of what holds my joints in place. The downside of my muscles being strong enough to hold my joints in place is that they’re also strong enough to pull my joints out of place. I can’t consciously do it, but when my body is causing muscle spasms with the hope of doing something, anything, then my muscles are more than capable of subluxing a joint. Or making a current subluxation worse.

That all sucks. Being in that amount of pain in the first place sucks. But the worst part of all of it is feeling your body pull itself apart and being helpless to stop it. And you’re just going to take even longer to recover now because you probably just got 5x more injured! And you can’t do anything and the only way to make it stop is to convince your brain that body part doesn’t exist. Dissociate so strongly from that body part that your brain stops trying to send any signals at all. I’ve done it before, but it just stops the spasms. That time it was my leg spasming out of control. I still couldn’t walk once I dissociated from it. I couldn’t fucking move it or think about it because that would increase communication between my leg and my brain. So the only good thing is that the spasms stop- I don’t regain any functionality and there’s no way to know when it’s safe to reconnect with my leg again.

This time, it was my upper back and shoulders. And it is so much harder to dissociate from your torso when you have to breathe. And so I might have subluxed my shoulder. Hooray.

[nope-body]

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The scary thing is that I don’t know what is happening. I know it’s nerve pain. I know where it is. I don’t know what caused it. I don’t know how to make it go away. And it is one of the most painful feelings I’ve had, ever. It’s caused two full-body muscle spasms which I’ve never experienced before (I’ve only experienced it localized to a limb) and multiple other localized muscle spasms, all caused by the intense amount of pain. It ebbs and fades and I don’t know why. None of the pain management techniques I know of are helping. I’m struggling to walk. I’m struggling to go from lying to sitting to standing. I’ve fallen while trying to lie down on the floor. Something is wrong and I’m so used to knowing what is wrong and right now I don’t know what is causing any of this. I’m having trouble with body temperature regulation too. I know I should probably go to the doctor but also I don’t want to be told that it’s psychosomatic or just to take an ibuprofen or something that isn’t actually helpful. I don’t want to be told nothing is wrong when something is definitely wrong.

[nope-body]

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One thing you can never prepare yourself for is the staring when using a mobility aid. And it’ll come when you most expect it and when you least expect it- that’s why it’s so hard to prepare for. You can prep for awkward doctor’s office encounters (especially when you’re seeing the doctor for something completely unrelated), weird looks in the hallway, glances on the sidewalk, the reactions of those closer to you. You can never prepare for the eyes that follow you from those places you can’t reach- the stares out the windows, the two people behind you who aren’t being as subtle as they think they are, the cars rounding corners and lingering to look at you, even when you stare back. I’m so tired of people thinking that I can’t see them behind glass, because I can. I know where your eyes are going, I see the path they’re tracing to my cane. I can see your faces, both turned in my direction (drivers for the love of gd look at the road). You would see me staring back if you bothered to look at my face. If you bothered to see me as a person.

I am not a curiosity, I am not a one-person freak show, I am not on display for your viewing pleasure. I am just trying to live my life. Leave me alone.