#actually szpd

[ix-the-hermit]

computa show me jobs that require no standing up no socialising no customer service no team meetings no showing up no experience and send

[hazedxg0]

It's really something seeing people who aren't cluster A or schizospec discuss anhedonia. Because they always talk about how horrible it is, and how it makes life borderline not worth living, but there's always this emphasis that it's temporary.

"Anhedonia is the worst thing I've ever experienced, but don't worry! You can just get your meds changed and it'll go away! You'll be enjoying everything again in no time!"

"I felt like this before I got help for my depression. Don't worry guys, therapy can totally fix this!"

"This is how everyone feels before starting HRT lol. If you think you have this you should start questioning your gender."

I don't understand how you can talk at length about how serious a particular symptom is, but then turn around and treat it like it's this easily fixable symptom that no-one will have to deal with forever.

Chronic anhedonia is a thing. Some of us will spend most of, if not the rest of our lives like this. For some of us, it's not a side-effect of medication, or treatable depression, or being closeted. It's engrained into how our brain works. That reality deserves to be acknowledged too.

[enemylloyd]

I genuinely think "human connection is a NEED you cant live without" is a complete lie and propaganda. I dont care if im disordered and that makes me the weird one or whatever but theres no way that's true.

[deaddogbrain]

even i cant always tell

[infernalis-crypture]

Masterlist Link

How Therapy Feels When Your Default State Is Emotional Detachment

People talk about therapy like it’s supposed to feel warm; like you’re meant to cry on a couch, have an epiphany, and leave lighter. For me, it feels more like a negotiation table. A place where I describe data points from my life to someone who expects feelings I don’t have.

That’s what therapy looks like when your baseline is emotional detachment.

The Awkward Start

When I first started therapy, talking about emotions felt like describing a language I never learned. My emotions are fleeting; they spike for a few minutes and vanish. By the time a session rolls around, whatever I felt seems irrelevant.

I can explain irritation, anger, or boredom perfectly, but happiness? Excitement? Those don’t really register. The only time I feel alive is during high-stakes moments, when adrenaline kicks in and everything sharpens.

Most therapists misread that as either “doing fine” or “hiding something.” They expect affect; facial expression, tone, tears, and when those aren’t there, they assume dishonesty. But for some of us, flatness isn’t avoidance. It’s our resting state.

The Professional Distance

Therapy, to me, is a business arrangement. I don’t trust therapists; I’ve had one betray confidentiality to my abusers before. So I walk in with that memory sitting between us.

When therapists try to validate my emotions with soft tones or “I can see how painful that must’ve been,” I usually feel awkward or mildly irritated. I don’t need comfort; I need clarity.

Research backs up how this disconnect forms. Studies on schizoid and narcissistic presentations show that clients high in cognitive empathy (intellectually aware of emotions but detached from feeling them) can find emotional validation meaningless or even intrusive (Gabbard, 2014; McWilliams, 2011). The therapist’s warmth feels like static; unnecessary noise on a channel meant for data.

Talking About Pain Without Feeling It

I can talk about my trauma without flinching. I’ve watched therapists cry when I’ve stayed completely neutral. That’s when the awkwardness sets in: they’re feeling something for me, and I’m just watching the reaction.

This isn’t ASPD; it’s emotional blunting, a common trauma adaptation linked to overactivation of prefrontal control regions that suppress limbic response (Etkin & Wager, American Journal of Psychiatry, 2007). The brain literally learns to mute itself.

I usually analyze sessions more than I experience them. Once they’re over, I switch off. Unless something specifically hits me, the emotional residue evaporates.

The “You’re Not Trying” Misunderstanding

I’ve had therapists tell me I “don’t want to get better” because I wasn’t expressive. They mistook detachment for defiance. That’s a common clinical error. Research on alexithymia ; difficulty identifying and describing emotions, shows that emotionally detached clients are often highly aware of their issues, just not physiologically engaged with them (Taylor et al., Comprehensive Psychiatry, 1997).

It’s not denial; it’s a regulation strategy. The system suppresses emotion to prevent overload. Forcing expression doesn’t fix it; it just pushes someone like me into irritation or shutdown.

DBT has worked better than CBT for me, because it’s pragmatic and structured. CBT’s constant emotional reframing feels pointless when emotions themselves are fleeting.

What Detachment Really Means

For me, detachment is both defense and adaptation. I learned indifference to survive instability. It’s not something to “heal from”; it’s something to manage.

Therapy culture tends to romanticize crying as progress, but not everyone’s progress looks like tears. Some of us measure growth by how logically we can handle things that once made us spiral.

Research supports this too: emotional suppression doesn’t always predict dysfunction; in some contexts, it’s adaptive and stabilizing (Gross, Psychological Bulletin, 2015). Pathologizing detachment misses its survival value.

Redefining Progress

Progress, for me, means my therapist meets me where I am. She doesn’t push me to cry; she gives me tools. She challenges me logically, notices when I’m unsure what I feel, and helps me name it without demanding a reaction. That’s what works.

It’s also what most therapy training skips. The therapeutic alliance; the strongest predictor of success in therapy (Horvath et al., Psychotherapy, 2011), depends on trust and attunement, not emotional display. You can build that alliance with logic, respect, and precision.

The Core Problem with “Feel More” Culture

The therapy world tends to equate emotional expressiveness with honesty. But for emotionally detached clients; those with trauma, personality disorders, or certain neurotypes, that expectation is alienating.

Detachment doesn’t mean apathy. It means the wiring is different. Our emotions don’t leak out the same way, and forcing them doesn’t make them real.

I don’t need to feel more to heal. I need to be understood as someone whose feelings exist in brief flashes, not floods. Therapy isn’t about melting the ice; it’s about learning to skate on it without falling through.

[vmzoid]

it's torture to try to have an opinion on anything as a schizoid. somebody has a different opinion? suddenly something feels wrong. i don't agree with them, but i also don't disagree with them. and who cares if they are saying something objectively wrong, i need to go along with it.

it's not making a choice to agree. it just happens. i don't suddenly think “they're right and i'm wrong”. i don't actually change my opinion the majority of the time. it's more like a part of that person latches on to me and now i have them encroaching on my thoughts. get out of my head. stop poisoning me. what is this subconscious need to avoid any sort of confrontation.

being online at all is a nightmare. always gambling on if i'll see something that starts a massive internal argument.

[the-choir-below]

Super funny that some people have transASPD, transNPD and transSzPD as labels tbh. Like dude. Your "tips" for "being" ASPD/NPD/SzPD just make a mockery of those disorders. It's all fun and games to "act like X" but I've conveniently never seen anything about it destroying relationships, making you lose your job, being isolated because people can't stand you/handle your symptoms etc. Get a life.

[haretic]

i think people dont understand that if i have a paranoid disorder, im going to be paranoid, all the time, without fail. sometimes less, sometimes more. if i have an episode, you cant do anything about it. ill believe it until i dont. thats all. im not just going to stop being paranoid because im told im being paranoid or told that it isnt true. in fact, ill even start to resent you for it if you press me too rudely on how im wrong. i know i am, i cant change it, and now youre being mean to me. who is this going to help? certainly not me, because now i have another thing to be paranoid about. thanks.