#self-soothing

[the-healing-mindset]

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A post shared by Dr. Glenn Patrick Doyle (@drdoylesays)

As adults, we sometimes have to go back and learn what we missed out on learning as children. That's okay. Those who were meant to teach us back then were not equipped to teach us what we needed to know. In most cases, they themselves didn't even know what we have the ability to now learn for ourselves.

Give yourself some grace. Reparenting is not easy, but it is very much worth it.

[wornbriefly]

When the Scene Ends and the Shame Starts

Content note: This post discusses kink, impact play, and the emotional aftermath of scenes, including internalized shame. Please take care while reading.

It always hits after.

Not right away—not while my skin is still tingling or I’m drifting in that floaty space. It waits. Quietly. Until the room stills. Until the air changes. Until I’m left with nothing but myself.

And then it comes rushing in. The shame. The overthinking. The pit in my stomach that says, You went too far again. You always do.

Sometimes it’s immediate—right after he says good girl and kisses my forehead like I didn’t just beg him to break me. Sometimes it’s delayed, creeping up an hour later when I’m washing my hands and suddenly can’t look in the mirror.

I try to tell myself it’s just my brain being loud. That this feeling isn’t proof I did anything wrong. But I still get caught in it. The post-scene spiral.

“Did he actually enjoy that or was he just going along with it?” “Was that even sexy or just sad?” “Why did I need that so badly?”

I wish I could say the shame came from being pushed too far, but honestly? It comes when I get exactly what I wanted.

When I ask for something filthy or degrading or rough and he gives it to me—beautifully, tenderly, perfectly—and I still end up lying there feeling hollow. Like maybe there’s something wrong with needing it at all.

It’s not the scene that does this. It’s the voice that shows up after—the one that says I’m too much and not enough at the same time. The one that thinks aftercare is something you have to earn, not something you’re worthy of.

Sometimes I wish I could just turn it off. Slip back into soft arms and stay there. But even in the safety, my shame is clever. It wears different masks.

Was that okay? Am I okay? Did I ruin it by wanting it too much?

I haven’t figured out how to self-soothe yet. Not really. Sometimes I scroll. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I repeat the same mantras over and over like maybe this time they’ll stick.

This is not who I am, it’s just how I feel. This will not matter the way it feels like it does right now.

But more often than not, I just sit in it. Quietly. Hoping the tide goes out soon.

I don’t regret the scene. I regret that I still don’t know how to love the version of me who wanted it.

[wordsoftheheartandsoul]

There are times when anxiety is obvious and unable to ignore. It's that feeling when you lose your balance on a ladder - trying to keep from going over the edge and you break into an instant sweat. Shaking, self-soothing, and gasping for air like your lungs are being squeezed out. Speaking from your mouth what your mind can no longer contain. Racing thoughts, heart pounding, and trapped. And then there are times when panic is paralyzing. There is no stuttering, heavy breathing, or cause for attention. It feels like you're falling into your body - leaving you frozen, unable to speak. Numb. Physically still yet emotionally shaken. Mentally trying to pull yourself together yet falling apart. Your heart is pounding, your thoughts are racing, and you're just there. The world feels like it's crumbling around you, yet most people around you have no idea.

Morgan Richard Olivier - the healing you hear

[bootlegramdomneess]

If you're having a hard time today. Here are some ideas for self-soothing:

deep breaths

listen to music you enjoy

watching your comfort show/movie/youtuber

unplug from news/or social media

pull out your weighted blanket or your softest blanket that gives you comfort.

mindfulness practice

play your favorite video games

cuddling your pet

cuddling a stuffed animal/or fluffy pillow

aromatherapy/or smell your favorite scents

taking a walk

exercise

puzzles

cooking something you enjoy or something healthy

take a bubble bath

read a book/or your favorite fanfic

write if you do

[raccoonfallsharder]

if ur still taking requests, can u write about rocket stopping me from picking at my clothes? kinda hyperspecific but I've ruined many shirts by pulling at the stitching until my sleeves are split in half and the bottom of my shirt is all frayed

so sorry this took me so long, nonnie-honey. i really, really hope this is helpful and that you feel loved. ♡♡♡

✩࿐࿔ stop destroying your frickin clothes. [new 12/18]

smut-free| no use of y/n | gn reader | drabbles | word count: 1,209.

✩࿐࿔ take what you need.

࿔ eat somethin. at least grab a frickin’ snack. (wc: 576) ࿔ go to frickin bed already. (wc: 737) ࿔ get outta bed & get your shit done. & stop doomscrolling (wc: 925) ࿔ take a damn bath. (wc: 1,375) ࿔ leave your frickin skin alone. (wc: 1,579) ࿔ take a fuckin study break. (wc: 1,020) ࿔ drink some goddamn water. (wc: 1,209) ࿔ stop destroying your frickin clothes. (wc: 1649) for this sweet nonnie. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ࿔ just buy the damn thing already. for sinikettu [est 1/1] ࿔ get some goddamn sunshine ࿔ did you take your meds today?

take a minute. where are your hands? are you pulling apart your clothes (or something else you'd rather not be pulling apart)? let's try to find something else to do for a little while.

this is about as wholesome as it gets (for me) i think. can be read platonically or romantically. mcu-based, meant to take place post-volume 3, but headcanon however you want ♡

“All right.”  You nearly jump out of your skin, eyes wide and guilty when Rocket slams a bundle of cloth down onto the low coffee table in front of you. You’d been lounging in Groot’s apartment, waiting for the Big Guy to come home from whatever task Rocket had him doing today. The Flora Colossus has been begging you to play a new game he’d gotten, and you’d finally found the time to stop by.  Unfortunately, time not spent busying your hands with something else means time spent demolishing the seams of your clothing. Little threads here and there, plucked and unraveled. Loops and pockets detaching themselves from you, seemingly at random — floating off somewhere into the ether, and leaving only holes and gaping tears behind. “You were doing it again, weren’t you?” he asks. There’s no reason you should have to answer. He already knows. You flush and look guiltily at your fingers, lacing them together to keep them hostage.  “All right,” he repeats briskly, not bothering to prod you once he realizes you’re not going to say anything. “C’mon. Got a job for you.”

read more on ao3

if you find any of these at all helpful, they're meant for you.

feel free to ✩ request reminders ✩ via reblogs, asks, and tumblr or ao3 comments if they would be helpful for you. it may take me a hot minute to get to them depending on life n stuff, but i will do my best

if you’d like to join my fanfiction taglist, please comment or send me a message or ask! ♡

@suicidalshitstick ✩ @glow-autumz ✩ @evolvingchaoswitch ✩ @wren-phoenix ✩ @pretty-chips

(total word count: 9,061)

[chestersbraincell]

Curling in on myself as much as I possibly can+hugging myself gripping at my arms desperately in an attempt to feel comforted

[thetruekyle]

I think it all just finally clicked,

at 3am on a Tuesday..

☆ I was raised "brokenhearted."

By destitute dreamers and settled seamers..

Raised ever so lovingly, true enough-

-but I became broken-hearted by default,

The relativity of relative psyches,

Warping what was pure right from the off-

He looks like E.T. as I drew my first breath,

Seemingly, the slapped butt of a cosmic joke.

Though I had no real sorrow to dwell upon,

-and my light matched the happy I would poke,

I always tarnished, marked, knicked, scratched,

Sundered, shredded, demolished & destroyed-

All the things I actually sought to hold and love,

Cuz I was never taught how to care for much-

Without breaking and smashing it,

-to smithereens, but good in the end.

I have always been sensitive and soft, you see-

But my rearing to match was never .. me .

It was actually kinda sus, and mostly hood.

So my beast had been caged, and never free.

Incarcerated, violated,

-kept for his own protection,

And too long have his eyes paled,

-away from the sun,

Too long has his mane grizzled and grayed

-from sheer lack of fun,

Too long has this shadow been his home,

-where in a world of billions,

his reflection makes it seem there's only one.

But this one is a good boy deep down,

I know it because he's the same; a part of me,

And I Am every bit the unified Hol-Ogrum one

-but still just a bit shy,

despite being a ferocious guy...

For being otherwise just a bit too strong,

-ever-training apter control of claws & schlong,

Draining pens and loading bongs,

Dulling the edge,

Like landscaping a cliff face,

Now I am leveling up all my pawns,

He's broken free from the molds-

Once created to restrain and hold him.

He rises a monster, a beast, and a horror,

Ever yearning in his won freedom,

Just to be held again,

but in loving arms, for real

Not unlike all those loving hugs,

That conditioned his heart,

After so many years,

-to prefer not to feel........................................

…………………………………………………………………

[c-ptsdrecovery]

The best way to care for your feelings is to acknowledge and accept them--and accept yourself for having them.