Trauma - Blog Posts
I have been hyper fixating on Spock for years now. With good reason. I grew up with a verbally abusive father that at one time yelled at me so loud I wet my pjs in fear. He then told me I was doing it for attention. I was 7 years old. Spock is the exact opposite of my father. He is calm, collected, brilliant and fiercely loyal to those he cares about, even when he is going through his own troubles with HIS father, Sarek. It sounds corny, but growing up with a father like mine and watching other family men do the same, I thought I was going to have to spend the rest of my life getting yelled at but staying with him for the kids. Spock, and Star Trek really, showed me that I can find someone who is intelligent and listens to me. That I don't have to have children and if I do, it is better to leave than stay with someone who treats my kids like crap. Unlike my mom. I haven't met my Spock yet, but I will wait until I do. To everyone reading this, please never accept being treated like less, by family or otherwise, and if you are already in a bad relationship if not for yourself, please leave for the kids.
I laugh about it because I do not want my mom to feel bad about the ways she has destroyed me.
Dogs are raised to love, not to be loved. Sometimes I wonder if that's how children are raised too. Raised to ask for a hug from that hand that struck them, raised to think it's their own fault when daddy doesn't come back. Children are just dogs, and some children stay dogs until they are put down.
I would go through it all again for you
a hundred times
but I do not think I would still be me
when it was over
the screaming that bounces around the inside of my skull is back to grace me with its presence. guttural and keening and feral.
i take another sip from my soda can and pretend i do not hear it, because to let it out into the world, where it would transform from visceral agony to banal noise, would be worse than enduring it silently. at least this way i can still feel it. at least this way no one else has to.
I am not a girl,
but rather a boy in the way
that I am burdened a daughter.
disappointingly so.
god will never love me the way he loves you,
and that is all the assurance I have in this world.
I am holding my bloody heart out to you, my hands stained with red from holding it for so long.
and while you are not the person who ripped it out of my chest,
you are the person I am trusting to take care of it.
maybe you can put it back in for me.
I used to think you were a smart man
now I’m not so sure
in fact
I think you told us several times
when I was younger
that you were anything but
you scared me too much to test that
I hope the people who live in our old house
look at the dent in the freezer
that you nearly broke your foot making
because you wished you could have done
it to me instead
and wonder how it got there
and soon enough they will discover
the lines I scratched into the wood
into the walls
little traces of anger
it fills every support beam,
every wall,
every floorboard like rot
spreading
consuming
devouring
“i’m sorry,” I whisper desperately.
i’m sorry for feeling too much.
I’m sorry that it spills out of me uncontrolled, violently.
i’m sorry I was never handled gently.
i’m sorry nobody ever taught me what love is.
one of these days,
you will ask me to hold you,
and I will crush you in my hands.
not through any ill intent,
but out of never learning to love
and never learning the art of being gentle
there are so many scars on my body, but i could not tell you where they came from. not because i do not want to, but because i do not know.
my lungs.
they are too small for my body.
they have not the mass to handle each shuddering breath, each desperate gasp that begs “please, please, let me express something”
my body.
it is too small for my feelings.
it snaps and groans and stretches to try to accommodate the maelstrom within my chest, to no avail, so the scream claws its way up my throat and out my mouth, hurling insult and injury towards anyone nearby.
and I stand in the aftermath,
in the rubble,
and wonder what I have become.
i am laying flowers at the grave
of the man who killed me;
and there is nothing god could do
to stop me now.
When I was younger I had a near death experience. I was in this dark floating void, seeing shapes and symbols passing and fading. I asked “and I dead?” And a loud, kinda distorted voice echoed back “No, not yet”. And then suddenly woke up vomiting on myself and my mother yelling at me
TFW you and your friends have a convo that's way too in character
@brinara @lunaartblog
May you burn with the monster that plagues your soul; may you lay in the ashes of your very sins and damnation. May the devil do with you as he sees fit and throw you deep into the pits of the eternal hellfire, and may you reap what you have sown.
Cole, Tacita Corvus (my book)
Introductory to books
Tacita corvus
Two boys, danger lurking on the alleyways, a mysterious sickness that continues to spread, and a shit ton of trauma. Cole, my main character, is mute as a result of his trauma, and is befriended by Sigmund Vasily, a boy who simply cannot shut up. Cole is on the run from the blashemi unum, but can he solve the mystery of the illness before he is caught, before his loved ones perish?
Cold Coffee
Two university students, six letters, one cold-case, and time that is running out.Vincent and Christopher have been bestfriends since highschool, and are now roommates who plan on becoming forensic psychologists (Vince) and forensic photographers (Chris)During a nostalgic trip, they uncover a cold case and are promised possitions in their chosen fileds if they are capable enough to solve it; but when the supposed dead murderer begins another line of crime, it’s a race against the clock before they too become victims.
HAHAHAHA THE CURSE OF BEING A WRITER
None of your characters can escape the mighty gift of trauma
N o n e
i fully believe the reason sweetheart has a problem with the cartel is because her family has some type of connection to it in the past and something happened :)
And you are correct! It's not the whole family, it's just the Mad Scientist brother. (Whose name is now Torrance, thank you anon for the lovely name ♡) He had connections with the Cartel, he didn't level with his side of the deal, and Sweetheart got kidnapped and stuff happened-- I don't wanna go too much detail into it unless people actually want to know, cause it's pretty messed up 💀💀
Tw: drugs
BUT YEAH she hates the cartel, her relationship with Torrance isn't... the best. And she's HIGHLY uncomfortable with Valeria. She feels sick if she's around drugs, cocaine to be precise. She will legit throw up if she sees any type of cocaine. If she hears the word cartel she would turn on her fight or flight mode so damn quickly.
MAN-- WHY TF DID I GIVE HER TRAUMA?!?!? THIS WASNT THE PLAN AT ALL 💀💀
HAVE A HAPPY GO LUCKY READER INSERT? CHECK
HAVE A GOOD HEALTHY FAMILY? CHECK
MAKE THE READER NOT HAVE TRAUMA?? NOT FUCKING CHECKED
CAUSE I JUST DID IT. AGAIN.
Why do I do this to any character I make. Why.
Realized today that I jsut genuinely do not remember the majority of my childhood (…only stuff I remember is trauma tbh)
Most of the happy shit that I know happened was what I’ve been told happened
Do I have any recollection of that??? Noooo
TW! DRUGS, ALCOHOL, OVER DOSING,REHAB, EATING DISORDER, RAPE, MENTAL HEALTH, SELF HARM, SUICIDE
Now we skip a year to the beginning of the year. Year 9. 2022.
On October 24th 2021, i was walking to a friends house. To get there you had to walk down a dark, forest like path. I wasn't wearing anything too revealing. Nothing more then slight cleavage. This guy, must've been in his mid 20s, came up behind me. Grabbed me from behind, and raped me. My innocence was stripped away, only because i was wearing a top.
This event lead me into a horrible spiral of depression. I was 13.
I started drinking, everyday, for 2 months. In school, at home, out side. I felt like i needed to get away from this pain. I was made to be mature, the child i once was had gone. I was caught, i was excluded, i was put into treatment for recovering alcoholics.
I stopped eating for months. I needed control. And somehow eating was the only thing i could. No one noticed, i'd always been quite fat, so it was seen as me loosing weight. Everyone was proud of me. No one could see the true intentions. I was dying, slowly killing myself to end my suffering.
One day, whilst i was at a party, drinking, someone gave me a massive load of cocaine and heroin . And there forth i was an addict. In school, at home, outside, in dirty public bathrooms, i was always doing drugs. I stole weed, lighters, filters and rolling papers from people. I stole bongs and grinders from shops. I needed it. It made me forget. It made me happy. I was 14. I was shooting up heroin every week, snorting cocaine every day. My friends encouraged this, told me it was my life and i could do what i wanted. I needed the help. They only really got concerned when i almost over dosed on heroin in the park near my house. I was sent to the hospital, where i am now. They are sending me to rehab on the 21st. They said it was what i needed.
I started self harming again, almost slitting my wrists everyday to end it. If i couldn't be happy, what was the point in being here.
I was diagnosed with autism and am currently waiting to be diagnosed with bpd , which all my therapists said i most likely do have, it gave me some clarity, although i will never tell anyone any of this, only you.
This is my story, of what has happened, before you judge someone, think about what they have been through.
Fare well - Radio
Mother (warning: trauma)
I killed another houseplant this week,
Adding to the toll of a plant mom with mommy and daddy issues.
A lotus drowning in their own mud,
A failed parenthood out of parental trauma.
Moths of a heart full of holes
With the aphids of the dirt,
Eating away at me and the beings I tried to patch myself with.
TW // RAMCOA brief talk //
Hello! I apologize for popping in like this, i know its a heavy topic. I know what RAMCOA is, and i was wondering if it was okay to send in questions ( i can do it off anon if it helps you feel comfortable, just lmk if you prefer another ask, dms or comments /gen ) because i heavily wonder if i am a RAMCOA system.
Well partially at this point. I know it'll have heavy discussions, so i do truthfully understand if you wouldn't feel comfortable talking about it. If it helps i don't plan to ask anything personal, just general questions. If you know someone else who would be willing to answer or if a commenter wants to help i would appreciate anything, i am desperate. /lh
yes that is fine! i am not really comfortable saying for certain if you have / havent experienced RAMCOA... but i am a RAMCOA survivor myself and i am always happy to help others and discuss experiences! feel free to DM me, ill answer questions as well as i can :)
made a meme for anyone else out there who gets stuck in the "it wasnt that bad!" or "maybe im not traumatized!" loops because trauma denial sucks ass!!! you all are valid!!!
✶ ﹒ intro.
eight. 19 years old.
any pronouns. genderless.
mixed indigenous. disabled.
DID system. OEA survivor.
ASPD. NPD. schizospec.
blog will contain triggering content including posts relating to / showing weapons, posts about mental illness, posts about trauma, and more.
i plan to get started making NPT and BAH posts! might also coin xenogenders eventually, you can send requests in if you want, i may decline if i feel uncomfortable for whatever reason.
below is my tagging system and NPT + BAH request rules!
✶ ﹒ requests.
i will do any themes requested unless i find them too difficult for whatever reason, or feel uncomfortable with the theme.
my npts will include names, pronouns, and genders. i can add titles if requested but i am not too good at them! i can also include system names if requested.
all bah posts will come with some basic information, and any additional information can be requested with add-ons!
a basic bah will include names, pronouns, age, role, gender, orientation, and species. it will also include a personality overview, as well as any noteworthy traits or features, and a general aesthetic or style description.
add-ons include faceclaim, typing quirk, sign offs, image aesthetic / moodboard, music taste, source, kins, and anything else requested! please specify if you would like any of these included in your ask.
bah template will look something like this...
names:
pronouns:
age:
role:
genders:
orientation:
species:
personality overview:
notable traits:
general aesthetic:
add ons:
✶ ﹒ tagging.
system tag — ✶ ﹒ sys.
trauma tag — ✶ ﹒ trauma.
aesthetic tag — ✶ ﹒ aesthetic.
vent / rant tag — ✶ ﹒ vent.
music tag — ✶ ﹒ music.
media tag — ✶ ﹒ media.
disability tag — ✶ ﹒ disability.
mental illness tag — ✶ ﹒ mental.
coining tag — ✶ ﹒ coining.
bah tag — ✶ ﹒ bah.
npt tag — ✶ ﹒ npt.
witchy tag — ✶ ﹒ witchy.
misc tag — ✶ ﹒ misc.
reblog tag — ✶ ﹒ reblog.
asks tag — ✶ ﹒ asks.
Hey so what about the fact that Maria Robotnik’s last words probably fuck up Shadow for life.
Like imagine you’re created with the sole purpose of saving this one person - your sister, the only person on an entire space station who’s your age. You spend all your time together because again, you’re the only kids on a goddamn station in outer space.
And then you watch her sacrifice herself to save you. She gets shot and as the one person you were created to save dies before your very eyes, she tells you the reason you were brought into the world was to make everyone happy.
Oh and then you get captured by her murderers and frozen for 50 years like. The moment you land on earth.
Like what the fuck? Shadow is but a wee child and a space rodent who has never been to Earth and he already have more trauma then a seal team six of therapists could deal with, but let’s put everyone else’s happiness first I guess.