#neglect tw

[poemsandghosts]

grieving the version of myself I was never allowed to be

[sun-citadel]

I was thinking of Kris's room, and the neglect might go deeper than I realized

We all know Kris has a dissociative response towards drunk Toriel to the point of visible shame, and even that she's even unbothered by them having a knife, but like

Look at their room compared to Asriel

Those shelves are faded and muted paired with being cracked, the few things they seemingly have are just shades of gray. Hell, Kris doesn't even have little cieling stars and the moon unlike Asriel's side. Asriel is seen with brighter colours, trophies, an alarm clock, a computer, a poster, while Kris literally has nothing to their name. It's to the point they even ignore Susie's bullying, until they made a comment that was enough to get Susie to cry ( this was before the Soul too ) .

Toriel what the have you been doing to Kris. you literally do the bare minimum.

Even Ralsei makes a mirrored image for Kris's Castle Town room with everything they lack . Even Asriel's theoretical side is neglected with no carpet, and a torn up look.

The strong implications of Kris being a latchey kid after the events of Chapter 4's drunken scene show that Toriel didn't even bother to call Kris about the cancelation, and even locked them and Susie out the house.

i'm so messed up actually up.

[liketolaugh-writes]

Running a brief analysis of the Drakes vs (my conception of) the Fentons. It's fun.

Danny- My Parents Were Not Neglectful

Tim- I need you to understand that parents aren't supposed to poison their kids

It's not that Tim pities Danny, exactly? But I feel like Danny's incessant denial would bother him. He's like, I'm not here to tell you how to feel about all this, but Your Parents Absolutely Were Neglectful. Which is a tough thing to hear from Mr. My Parents Left Me Home Alone For Six Months.

Emotionally, the Fentons' pre-portal neglect probably had a lot fewer lasting effects on Danny, but there's a lot to be said for growing up in a house that was unsafe from the beginning.

Tim- Your House Had Traps In It

Danny- no it was just kind of messy

Tim- you tripped on wires and died

Danny- I Told You Not To Talk About That

As far as Tim is concerned, his parents loved him (wanted him to have the best of everything, wanted him to be happy and safe, wanted wanted wanted) but not enough to be physically or emotionally present - his dad didn't seem to know how even when he was trying. And Danny's parents loved him enough to be physically and emotionally present, but they sure as hell didn't seem to care if he was safe.

Danny- they were very protective of me!

Tim- they left unlabeled acid on the kitchen counter

Danny- I knew not to touch anything in a beaker

Tim- from experience?

Danny-

Danny- maybe

All of the post-portal shenanigans are a much messier issue that Tim isn't going to touch with a ten foot pole, but this is something he feels qualified to talk about. It's a very emotional conversation though. They're in very different places when it comes to accepting what their parents did wrong.

[thisis-intersexism]

Intersexism is there being no visible discussions of intersex medical neglect, only of intersex medical abuse. Both are important conversations to have. When doctors and family refuse to believe you or believe you are intersex, it can make getting medical care at all difficult. My variation causes me to get extremely painful periods. No one around me believes how painful they feel and refuses to let me see a doctor for it at times. When I do finally get to a doctor, they push birth control as the only treatment without any investigation as to the cause or warning me of side effects. If I'm having episodes of wanting to rip out my own internal organs because of how painful it can get and no one takes me seriously enough to treat it as an issue, I can't get the medical care I need to begin with.

This is intersexism / intermisogyny.

I'm unfortunately going through something similar... My mom knows full well and even highly suspects that I have PCOS (the same as her), understands how painful my cycles are, and even mentioned it to the doctor, but refuses to get me diagnosed or figure out treatment plans with a doctor. It's frustrating as hell and very disappointing. Medical neglect is just as important to talk about as the more overt medical abuse.

[florenceisfalling]

The bastard child of a popular political candidate, Wilma was dumped at the asylum with a demand to either make her presentable or keep her out of the public’s sight. She had grown a little too old to easily dismiss her habit of wandering, mild kleptomania, homosexual tendencies, and social eccentricities. Still, she was docile, and the asylum staff opted to focus on simply hiding her from the outside world, much more concerned with treating their more “extreme” cases - as well as working on the unethical experiments lurking behind closed doors.

Initially, her father came for frequent visits, but as his career began an upward climb, he severed any non-professional associations. As his presence in the asylum tapered off to an occasional and distant donation, the doctors became less and less concerned about keeping up appearances.

Though her susceptibility to praise won some of them her fondness, Wilma never fully trusted the doctors or the nurses. She was not offended by their careless neglect - instead, she considered it a loosened restraint that allowed her to accumulate a better trove of shiny stolen things and stories from her fellow wards and secrets from down staircases she wasn’t supposed to descend. Nevertheless, she spoke in a lulling tone that suggested her head was more often up in the clouds than down in the winding, labyrinthine facility, so it was easier to chide her for waltzing into labs or offices at random than to risk aggressively correcting a girl from such an influential family.

This tactic foundered when Wilma opened the wrong door, one with hinges freshly bleeding oil, one that opened so cleanly and so quietly that she saw and understood everything she was not supposed to long before the sawbones saw her coming.

They would command her, belittle her, pry gaps in her psyche in an attempt to convince her, and tell her a thousand times that what she saw was a trick of the dark, a misunderstanding, a convincing production performed by her misaligned relationship with reality. The reports said they were securing a patient for transport home, but she knew the truth. It could not be broken out of her, the view of her friend and fellow inmate, begging for protection, as his body unlocked, swung open and let the air rush in, in a way that no living flesh should.

Nor could she ever forget the view of the doctor’s wide, pained eyes as she sank her teeth into his flesh, deep enough to wrench a chunk free and swallow it. Wilma’s frequent habit of chewing on ribbons and fingernails turned into a much bloodier biting habit after that. 

The treatments never took well enough to scrub the truth from her brain, but they did have other effects. The lies they fed her were so frequent it became difficult to tell when they were lies at all, and slowly she began to see things solely because they promised there was nothing to see. Every door became a mouth, a ribcage, a fist, and every speck of light became an eye. Her hair tangled in her face became matted fur, and it was an easy mistake to make when they had muzzled her jaw so tight and commanded her to stay. 

It was easy, then, when the shadow from the basement had fully eclipsed her. It was simple, after black trails started seeping from the bruises around her wrists, from the beds of her fingernails, from the empty socket where her sharpest tooth used to be. It was natural to stand guard, pacing back and forth behind the only door she had never crept through, waiting with ragged, bated breath for warm bodies to stumble close enough to reach on her chain. 

[targetlockedd]

eight days left to fulfill a promise she's been neglecting for five months stop denying me medical help that i very visibly need you are a capable grown adult it can't possibly be that hard to answer one form and print out five pieces of paper

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

thinking about nonverbal people who died because of… abuse, neglect, hate crime—by caregiver & PCA & carer, by doctors, by staff, by professionals, by education people, by strangers… suicide…

& thinking about nonverbal people who died maybe not directly because them but while these happening

all those who even after death their story be (re)written by people who killed them. who led to their death. who stood there n allowed these deaths to happen.

[nonverbal = all the time only. not episode not go nonverbal.]

[poemsandghosts]

I was emotionally parentified, of course I am the "therapist friend"

I was emotionally parentified, of course I can't handle any form of criticism

I was emotionally parentified, of course I will immediately apologize for every minor inconvenience, even if it is not my fault

I was emotionally parentified, of course I am an empath and an old soul

I was emotionally parentified, of course I have no identity and no clue what I want to do with my life

I was emotionally parentified, of course I am afraid of conflict and will do anything to prevent it

I was emotionally parentified, of course I appear to be "emotionally intelligent" and am good at comforting people