Vent posts, anxiety, PTSD, and other things

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

This blog is no longer an ARG blog, for those still following. The other members have left, and the ARG is cancelled. I am the only one remaining on this blog. You don’t need to know who I am, or what else happened.  All you need to know is that this is my safe space now. My place to talk without anyone knowing who I am, or why I’m here, or what’s happening beyond this blog.  Please don’t ask me for my name, or if I’m ok. All I want is a place to leave my frustrations, fears, and anxieties so I’m not carrying them around day-to-day. You can stay here and watch if you like, or go on anon to post your own frustrations, but otherwise, please don’t talk to me. This is my quiet place. Thank you. ~X

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

Reminder that you all ARE allowed to anon vent in the ask box of this blog. Asks will simply be posted with no further addition, unless of course it contains content that may be potentially harmful to viewers. ~X

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

Been a while.

But this is the only place I have that's private from the people who know me irl, and I can't talk about this where they can see, because talking about things where they can see has been a consistent problem - I feel like every time I have a reaction to something, it's immediately the cause of someone else's breakdown, so I can't show them anything or else they'll freak out more and become even less stable.

I can't have a BPD reaction and want to leave servers and then redirect myself as best I'm able to just removing people's perms from my private channels, even though a mutual friend has done the ACTUAL server-leaving twice within the past two months.

I can't split on someone because they called my genuine attempt at a gentle reminder TO SOMEONE ELSE being "petty and immature", or else "everything's falling apart and it's all their fault".

I'm just. Not allowed to react. I'm not allowed to feel negatively ever and I always have to be happy to keep the peace. And I hate it.

~X

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

hey. been a while. i'm high and in a weird headspace tonight.

sometimes i think i might be genuinely insane.

the world just... doesn't make any sense, otherwise. why i can't tolerate anyone. why i'm so good at being solitary despite the fact that humans are supposed to be social creatures. why people keep abandoning me. why i connect more with fictional characters than i do actual people. why i seem to always seek out some kind of drama that only hurts me in the end, even though i know i don't mean to.

i don't always need weed to feel like my brain is going fuzzy and for everything to be both sharp yet muted at the same time. for me to feel like i'm floating and nothing around me is real.

i think i might actually be insane. everything in this world and it's shitty fucking inhabitants finally drove me insane and i don't know if i should laugh or cry or both. really, it should have been expected. how much violence and suffering can a person really take before they snap, after all? would you believe me if i said the answer was 20 years? would you be able to imagine consistent, repeated, intense trauma and heartbreak and manipulation for 20 total years? can you blame me, thinking about that?

i must be insane. i'm talking to you as if i think you'll actually respond. as if the "you" i'm addressing isn't imaginary, anyways. who are you? who are you? who are we? who am i?

i'm probably insane.

~X

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

I fucking hate my brain I hate how the slightest mistake has me thinking that maybe I should give up and hurt myself after all instead of staying clean I hate how even the THOUGHT that I will be less liked by others makes me want to just give up on every relationship I have no matter the kind and just disappear off the face of the earth WHY THE FUCK does my brain have to work in such extremes??? It's hell. Its hell and I want to fucking get out but I can't.

Not without dying.

There's no escape except death because it's my own fucking brain.

Why couldn't I have been born differently? I hate being me.

-X

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

honestly it's kinda funny. not in the "i get amusement from this" sense but in the "this is so stupid i don't know how else to react other than to laugh."

like. you really thought you were doing something huh. but like, you admitted that you are in fact watching me. you wrote a weird ass poem about me after liking one of my posts and you did it on your main instead of your sideblog for writing and you tagged it with the thing you've tagged other posts about me before. even IF the original like was an accident - which i honestly don't believe - you had to make a lot of choices to do all that afterwards, and none of them seem innocent.

the minute you think about it even a LITTLE, it's weird as fuck. and also i never accused you of being obsessed, i just told you to leave me alone and stay off my blogs, so it's a little odd you bring up that word, no?

i think you're spilling more truth than you're willing to admit, all on your own.

i didn't think you were obsessed before, but now?

yeah, i totally do now. how could i not? a whole year and you're still grasping at any means of contact and interaction you can get while i'm doing what i can to cut them all off.

call me toxic if you wish.

but you're the one who manipulated me and then blamed me for it.

you're the one who compared me to people i HELPED you realize were toxic - but then kept in contact with them in a secret server?

hypocritical. you can't even decide who's bad or not.

your words are meaningless when you disregard them yourself.

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

oh anonymous and little-known vent blog, we're really in it now...

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

Hey kiddo.

It's been a while since I talked to you. I never talked to you much to begin with, but... I should have. And I'm sorry. You needed someone there for you, to be strong when you weren't - couldn't.

You needed me. And I wasn't there.

... You're allowed to be angry. You deserve to be angry. What happened wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

It's ok to be angry.

It's safe to be angry, now.

We made it out.

You can cry if you need to. We made it out.

... We'll learn how to really live soon, ok? I don't know when exactly, but...

I promise. We'll learn how to live.

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

Log #9

It's been a while, I know. I had thought that things had settled down, but... They spoke about me again. I suppose it may have been bait, and if that was the case then I've fallen for it, but it leaves such a foul taste. Acting like they miss what used to be, when we both know that they were the one who manipulated me.

What did they hope to gain by bringing it up again? Compassion? My capability for that towards them is long gone. Attention? I'll grant that may have been successful. Perhaps they knew I was trying to forget them, allow the memory issues I already have do their thing and wash them away along with all that happened. Perhaps they don't want me to forget them, don't want me to heal and move on.

How cruel, if that's the truth.

As it is, my wounds are ripped open again - not quite like new, thankfully, but enough to hurt and ache. This sprinkling of bittersweet affection like sprinkles on the poisoned cupcake makes me sick. They kept the photos, apparently. A little memoir. Am I a trophy, then? A conquest? Are you proud of what you did to me? Proud that I can no longer enjoy the color purple or waterlilies or even luna moths anymore? That all that I had once held dear is now just a sickening, bitter memory of you? That I feel the need to re-write my entire identity because you gutted me like a fish and left me with nothing?

Are you proud, my love? Are you happy now? Are you full after feasting on me?

I hope so. I pity the next person, if you are not satiated after all.

-X

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

Log #8

Winter was harsh, again. Harsher than usual. A lot of loss, again. Thankfully no death, though I grieve it nearly the same. ... It's hard to find words for it, anymore. I'm fine, most of the time. I can pretend it didn't happen, or that it doesn't mean much to me, but then... I'll see something. Something that reminds me of those I lost, and before I know it, I'm shuddering and sobbing, and my partner is asking me what's wrong, and their gentleness makes me feel worse, in a way. They don't mean for it to happen, I know, but... The kindness is such a contrast to what happened that it cuts in it's own way. It feels misplaced in the face of everything else. Alien. Like a puzzle piece shaped the right way to fit in, but colored wrong. I know I did everything as "right" as I could, in the situation that I'd found myself in. "Right" is subjective, I know, and changes depending on who's looking at it, but I did things as "right" as I could. Offered as much fairness and justice as I was capable of. That... Wasn't enough, however. In truth, I have no idea what else they wanted from me, despite the sense they were looking for more. Despite the feeling that if I had somehow answered "right" in the way they wanted, they would have stayed, I have no idea what that "right" would have been. They said goodbye, yet they still lurk in certain areas. I'm of half a mind they're experimenting, or maybe playing, watching and waiting, observing how I react. As of writing this, I think this place is still safe from that, but I'm also intensely aware that could change at any moment. They were always so smart, after all. Them sticking around can't be a coincidence, or simply forgetting. It's an uncomfortable feeling. But, I've abided by their goodbye, at least. I haven't interacted with them directly in... 18 days. It feels like longer. I thought it was longer. But still, I haven't interacted. I've respected the goodbye. I don't even like or reblog their posts, anymore - if they've posted something I like, I go out of my way to go back to the OP, so that I'm not sitting in their notes, reminding them of me. I've, effectively, disappeared from their life, except for where they still lurk to watch. I'm only active there to not worry anyone else, admittedly, or I'd vanish from there, too. ... There is one place where it's just us, that they haven't left, though. I wonder if I should remove them. See what happens. After all, they said goodbye, didn't they?

[entombedlover-deactivated202302]

[akindplace]

Rkkaaay on twitter.

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

Log #7

... It's been a while since I talked here, to you few who have stayed. A lot has happened. A lot of loss I still haven't yet reconciled in myself fully. This time of year has been bad for me, the past couple years. A lot of death happened, that I can't convince myself wasn't my fault.

Getting out of bed was hard, today. I don't want to be awake or go to work. I want room to sit with my grief and pay attention to it. That kind of freedom doesn't exist for me right now, though.

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

Log #6

... Trauma is a lot more expansive than I thought it was. I can't face criticism, not because I just don't like hearing it, but because I was raised being taught that making mistakes means being physically harmed. Now, when people try to discuss things calmly with me, my brain flashes back to being 5 years old, feeling small and helpless and knowing Dad could spank me with a cheese grater or belt if he wanted to... And that ruins my current relationships. Because to people who don't know better, it looks like I just run away all the time. To people who find out too late, it can look like the trauma is just an excuse, because breaking those negative perceptions can be hard. Only a select few - no matter if the subject at hand is me or a different abused person - will ever take the time to re-evaluate and understand "ok, they don't like being this way just the same as I don't. Let's try and see if we can still talk without it upsetting EITHER of us."

And some people just... Can't think that way. They get stuck in their own perceptions and will say things like "if I have a problem then what made it happen and how I now make you feel doesn't matter because this is my moment to be upset". And if you KNOW someone isn't a trauma victim, maybe handling it that way would make sense, but how can you know? Plenty of us hide our symptoms because we fear further harm and our ability to trust has been so undermined that we second-guess everything. And when you hold that view with us? You're just further engraning in our minds that we're worthless and don't deserve even basic respect or equity in the conversation. Not equality, equity. Because we ARE different, there's no denying it. Our neural networks have been so messed up that we literally do not process information the same as you do. In order for BOTH of us to speak healthily and avoid further upset, accommodations have to be made with that in mind. We cannot be treated as a non-traumetized person would be, it just doesn't work.

~X

[whatever-is-pxre]

When I was 13 years old and curious about sex and love, I asked my mom if she had had sex before marrying my father (of whom she is still married to, and has been since before I was born). She said that that wasn’t really a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. I said ‘sure it is, you’ve either had sex before him, or you haven’t’. She brought me onto the couch and sat me down and told me about the boy she liked when she was young and how one night she snuck into his house while his parents were gone and they were kissing and he said they should have sex and she said that she wanted to save sex for marriage and he laughed and basically took all her clothes off and he raped her and as my mom was telling the story she cried and this was the second time I had ever seen my mom cry. She was 12 when it happened.

In grade 8 I got a call from my friend in the middle of the night and she was drunk in the park crying and told me that she went out that night with some other friends and they drank a little and her guy “friend” starting flirting and yes she laughed at first but then he tried to pull her shirt over her head and she pulled away and he ripped her shirt and it was her favourite shirt and then he pushed her to her knees and HIS BEST FRIEND HELD HER JAW OPEN WHILE HE FACE FUCKED HER. And so I went to the park and picked her up and took her home and slept in her bed with her except we didn’t sleep because she just cried and her mouth bled and this was four years ago but I still have to be the one to bring her items to the till it the cashier is a man, and she still has anxiety attacks and she’ll get a rash all over her body and I just want to kill those boys but instead they are still walking around. And I’m in the bathroom with her, dabbing at her skin with a warm cloth until it returns to its regular colour.

And in grade 9 one of my closest friends was kinda seeing this boy and so they hung out one night and then she said that she really had to be getting back home and he said that she wasn’t going anywhere until she gave him what he wanted and he parked the car and took off her clothes and she said no and he ignored her and so she laid in the backseat totally limp and just cried and it wasn’t even sex, he just masterbated by using her body instead of his hand and she came to school the next day with vodka in her water bottle and she drank all day and I had to fight her to get the alcohol away from her and she just cried and threw up and I skipped class while I held her hair back and that same boy texted me a month later, asking if I ever wanted to hangout sometime.

And in that same year my very best friend who has never even kissed a boy, confessed to me that when she was 9 years old, her 12 year old cousin made her give him a hand job and he told her that was what cousins do and he gave her a chocolate bar afterwards and she told me that he probably doesn’t even remember it but that it’s something that she’ll never have the luxury of forgetting.

And in grade 10 I knew a girl who invited her best friend over to watch Disney movies and then he started to put his hands down her pants and she said no but she is 130lbs and he is 220lbs and he called her a tease while she tried to fight him but he used one hand to hold her down, and the other to put inside of her and i was the one to push her inside of a classroom and stand in front of her while calling the police when he showed up at our school looking for her and she was so damn scared.

And a few months later I skipped class and was in the car with a guy who i had had unprotected sex with in the past while under the influence of cocaine but this time I was sober and I insisted we use a condom but he told me he couldn’t feel anything while the condom was on so he ripped it off and I said I refused to have unprotected sex again and so he just grabbed me and forced himself into my mouth and I was crying and he pulled me onto him and I just came saying “stop” over and over like a broken record but he must’ve heard something different because he went until he came and I just sat naked in the backseat while he drove me back to the school and said “we should do this again sometime”. And I had five showers that night and I scratched at my skin so hard to try and rip his fingerprints off of me, I still have the scars.

And I found out soon afterwards that that same guy had raped a classmate of mine, 5 months earlier and she told me about how he brought her McDonald’s first, and how he said they could take things slow and she told me about how he didn’t listen to her either. And he goes to our school and so after she told me about her incident and I told her about mine, we decided to report it to the police and the trial is currently still going on and he told people about it, except in his version we are just “asking for attention” and all his friends talk about how bad they feel for him. As if HE is the one that still wakes up screaming. As if HE felt like his skin no longer was beautiful, no longer belonged to him. And I held her in my arms as she bawled after giving the police her statement. And she did the same for me.

And I met a woman a year ago in a paint store and she had a service dog and I asked what the dog was for and it turns out that she had been so brutally raped and abused in her life, that the dog is literally trained to keep men away from her.

And I’m so FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF THIS WORLD WE ARE LIVING IN. How many rape victims eyes have I already looked into? How many more will I? And how many more friends will I hold while they shake? Because I don’t know how many more I can take. And who the fuck still has the nerve to make rape jokes? And… Something just has to change. Please, someone just start being that change.

-16 year old girl

[lesnians-deactivated20210730]

Did I reblog this already I dont care

[edisorderedd]

Reposting this a a victim of sexual abuse from my brother

[annarose-exe]

Reblogging as a victim of rape by a close friend.

Reblogging because my sister, mother, and friends have all been used without permission.

[verified-pch]

Reblog for all the victims of rape who also work retail and when men say something to them about how pretty they are, how good they look, or how good they are at their job, no matter how innocent they mean it, she hears the voice of her rapist in them sometimes.

[hclarice-deactivated20200903]

Reblogging as a victim of rape and sexual assault. Reblogging because I had to go to school with my assaulter for a whole year after he assaulted me. Reblogging because of the fact that he got away with a couple months of community service, probation, and nothing on his record even though he admitted to assaulting me, and people STILL think I lied about it three years later. Reblogging because my rapist took advantage of me when I was wasted. Reblogging because I was so intoxicated that I could barely stand on my own two feet let alone push a guy who was two times my size and who was extremely strong off of me. Reblogging because both events happened in less than two weeks of each other. Reblogging because I still have nightmares, I still have panic attacks, and flashbacks, and the constant anxiety that I’ll see my assaulters, and the fact that I still flinch when I feel someone touch me. Including my girlfriend. Reblogging because I fucking want to and because this shit needs to be heard.

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

... Because it can happen in your own home. Because it can happen in your own school. Because it can happen in the alley by your apartment or the woods near your house. Because it can happen in your own bedroom, and nothing will feel safe. Because someone your parents trusted to live with you decided that meant he could take anything he wanted, including you. Because PokemonGo was more important to your parents than staying home and making sure you were ok with this man.  Because it could be you. Because it was me. ~X

[patheticngross]

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

... I don’t get the point of saying someone’s a “different person” when they change. I don’t get why people insist that the two versions are not the same person. They’re still who they were before. Changing does not erase their past, cut them off from it, or clone them into a new body and kill of the old one. I hate when people say “there’s a difference” as if change is a clean cut line that happens all at once. No. That’s not how it works. Change is gradual, it fades in, it settles in like the sediment at the bottom of a river, slow. People don’t just stop being who they were before. Sure it LOOKS like there’s a clear cut difference if you take two different points of time to compare them, but that completely ignores all the other points of time in between that show the fade-in. 

And when you ignore that fade-in, well... You completely disregard the effort that person put in to make that change in the first place. You ignore all the little moments of progress, and setbacks, and frustration, and joy. You ignore everything that person went through to get to the point they’re at now. THAT’S why “oh but they’re a different person now!” irritates me so much. It ignores everything that made the change happen in the first place, and it’s actually... really disrespectful to the person who changed. 

Same goes for “oh (insert name) made them change!” like no. Nobody makes anyone else change. The only thing outside people can do for the changer is to give them tools to use. It’s the changer’s choice to utilize those tools or not. And of course people who are TRYING to change can internalize that whole narrative of “you can’t change unless someone else helps you/makes you” and that can set them up for failure. Because when they think they need someone else in order to change, they become fixated on that and fail to see how they can help themselves, and they attach to people through this fixation thinking that if they date/are friends with/other relationship with this person, then they’ll just magically get better, even if the person they’re attaching to has NO EXPERIENCE AT ALL with helping in that kind of situation.

Basically please stop saying “they’re a different person now / (name) changed them so much” because it’s honestly really really destructive and I’m sick of it.

~X

[venty-ranty-shitty-things]

“I don’t”

I don’t have friends I don’t have hobbies I don’t go to clubs I don’t hang out I don’t leave the house I don’t talk I don’t laugh I don’t even cry loud I don’t live. This isn’t living.