#ptsd rant

[mycptsdstory]

I hate cancel culture on YouTube and especially in the beauty community.

The way you are doing it, is so toxic and so not healthy. You, giving them more views (so they get paid when you click and watch their conent). You give them hate and again, comment on their video so they get clicks and get them watch time; aka they get paid.

The only and ONE WAY to cancel someone out;

Is by NOT engaging into hate.

NOT clicking on their videos.

IGNORING what they say, so you won't click on their video or their tweet, Instagram post or any social media platform.

And unsubscribing to them.

THAT IS CANCELLING SOMEONE OUT! Not giving them hate and following them on social media. Giving them hate, that’s toxic, that's wrong and extremely unhealthy.

[justcallmeasmodeus]

Apologies

I’m broken, and I don’t know if I can be fixed.

I’m trying. I know that it doesn’t seem like it, but I really am.

Everything is just so hard and heavy and I’m just so fucking tired.

I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of the daily struggle of just getting out of bed. I’m tired of pushing back flashbacks and holding my tongue all day and having it crash down the second I’m alone and can let my walls down.

I’m tired of being scared of myself.

All I want is to be loved and accepted for who I am, but I’m scared to let her out. I want to push down these feelings again and I want to pretend like everything is okay and life is great and my past was swell until it becomes a reality even though that won’t happen.

Healing is the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do.

So I try to loose myself in helping others. If I can help others, then I still have a reason to keep breathing. If I can heal other chipped, cracked and broken souls, then I can be okay. Because then I don’t have to focus on myself.

But I do. When everyone else is busy, or offline, or it’s time for bed and I’m alone... I still have to deal with me.

I still have to deal with the nightmares. I still have to deal with every echo of every phrase, with every ghost of every touch and with the knowledge that I am the monster under the bed.

Every tear that falls hurts. Every drop of pain that oozes out breaks me a little bit more. I don’t want to let go and fall, but my grip is slipping. I feel alone.

I know that I’m not, but really I am. I struggle to accept the fact that the people that I want to love me never will in the way that I need it, so I push away the love of those that do.

I love you all, and I’m sorry to be dragging you through this mess. After this post I’m going to try and just keep my personal stuff that none of you really read anyways to myself and get this page back to SPN and Magicians related things. Sorry about the interruption on your Dash’s. Resume scrolling.

[cephalonely]

we cant do anything.

we're trapped and surveilled and hurt and terrified and forsaken because the cops refuse to do anything they didnt even scare him into listening to us and we have maybe 5 friends in total and only 1 ever cares to listen to us and theyre not available and theres nobody else that we trust who doesnt also have personal ties to our abuser and this is the final straw to us trying to move out and get on disability but every other mcfucking minute all we can visualize is our snake our baby our daughter hiding in our bag and freezing to death bc we got denied again and finally ended up on the streets

so we're back where we started. tired, overwhelmed, terrified, forsaken, and so so goddamn

alone.

[high-theyre-frendough]

anyone else sick of how movies keep trying to make villains more sympathetic by giving them sad backstories? like stop it. just keep them evil. stop try to justify abuser behavior. being abused does not make you a villain. being abused does not make you a villain. you do not become an inherently bad person from being abused when its not your fault. you are not at risk of hurting others because you have been hurt. it can be the exact opposite. why would anyone want to recreate the worst things that ever happened to them. who would do that

[tolerateit6sabe]

Sometimes I can’t help but feel broken. I can’t handle emotionally-charged content, I avoid anything and everything to do with my triggers, I can’t talk to people for too long without getting antsy and overwhelmed, I can’t focus without music, I can’t move my hands sometimes, I can’t talk sometimes, I—the list goes on too long. I would be here forever. I just wish I could be better.

[remmoran-kynvahl]

I just want silence, and peace, and calm in my own mind.

Because fear is controlling me, and I hate it, and I want to forget.

[justcallmeasmodeus]

17 months.

I knew that it would get harder before it would get easier. I knew that it was going to hurt to heal from you.

I never imagined this.

I never imagined that I would hurt this much. I never dreamed of being this insecure about everything. I never thought that I would spend hours overthinking myself into panic attacks over feeling like I’m not worth their time, feeling like they’re slipping away, like I’m not enough for them, like they’re ashamed of me, like they’re going to open their eyes and realize that I don’t have anything to offer them and walk away.

You did this. Maybe not intentionally, but you did. You took my self worth, my confidence, and you stole it, smashed it, burned it. You took advantage me, to the point where I don’t know who or what I am without being able to define myself how you did.

Maybe I deserve this. Maybe I deserve to hurt, to cry, to crumble. Maybe this is karma for the people that I hurt while you were my puppetmaster.

My new therapist says I need to talk more. That in order to heal I need to open up, to learn how to trust again. She makes it sound easy, to sound simple.

How am I supposed to open up when the very thought causes my heart rate to rise? How am I supposed to look at my friends and say ‘I know you don’t say ‘I love you’ but today I need to hear it. I know it, but I need it louder.’ without flashes of your screaming, your demeaning, without feeling the sting of your words, your dismissal, your rejection. My hands shake and my breath stops at the thought.

I know they’re not you. Somewhere, deep inside, I know that they won’t hurt me. But your ghost is louder, overlapping reality and leaving me stuck, haunted in this place. Unable to ask for the help I need, instead just swallowing my pain until the pressure opens up the cracks and I crumble down again.

How many times can they rebuild me until they get sick of this game? How many times will they clean up the mess I’ve become before enough is enough? How long can I live like this?

Questions I ask the dark, terrified one time it might answer.

[justkeepstrongg]

I don't think people understand how significant even an ounce of willpower is. Let me explain, I go through this phase with my PTSD every so often, that I can't sleep in my own room by myself.. I sleep in the living room on the couch, in my sisters room on her floor, or on the floor of my mothers bedroom, and have trouble getting up to do things in the morning. Usually this lasts about a week or so. The healthiest thing I've done all week, is set the goal for myself of getting out of bed and showering. Not forcing myself to get up at 7am to go to the gym. Just doing simple things and leaving the couch. My ounce of willpower got me there. So, tonight, I will return to my bed on the couch and be okay with that.