Cptsd Recovery - Tumblr Posts

google, search how to not subconsciously force my healthy and loving partner into the role of an abuser bcs I anticipate and detect abuse where it genuinely is not happening (and then I think that the behavior is normal so I don't call them out and thus allow my perception of them to be warped beyond recognition) google, search for what to do when your mental health gets so bad you lose grip on reality and have episodes of your mind breaking into two and you can't do anything but hold your head hyperventilate and let go of your body as it jerks around uncontrollably until eventually your partner has to just hold you still and talk you down before you accidentally hurt yourself google, search for gift ideas for the most patient perfect boyfriend in the world

The one and only renfield fanwork ever. Basically a sequel. Basically everything I could ever want or ask for in a renfield fic. This is actually sooooo personal to me but idc it must be loved and spread. This bug guy gets my pain & mental anguish as I'm recovering & attempting to have a healthy relationship with my own Rebecca. Thank you for writing this <3

//A Sadness Runs Through Him//

Gen - Renfield Focused Explicit Tags: Depression, Grief/Mourning, Coping with Trauma Chapters: 3/3

Dracula is gone. Renfield finally has a life all his own. So why doesn't he feel free? a.k.a, a short study on the grief of losing ones former life, lover, and purpose

Coffin Mother - A poem.

I was born with splinters poking out I was held in bloodless arms My mother bore me skin and bone But she was a box, and never a home My mother's kisses were dusty and dry My mother's door rusted shut I am new and unaware of you How my father was a victim too There is only one way coffins show love There is an inevitability about it Submitting to the grave is your only one true fate and her chest cavity is beckoning you're late from dust to dust we always return at any moment you could strike to hold me sing me a lullaby while you take my life Death mother keep me safe You've kept me trapped from the sky burred under shrouds of darkness and dirt Like a blanket over my world to deny you is to open my eyes I break your fragile lid and rip your hinges Torn away I cast parts of you aside I crawl with my dead hands through the earth above until a rumored heaven breaks open my brown sky Light and colors fill my vision, the air is not stale my lungs sting and my muscles ache I was not built for standing, walking 6 feet below I can hear howling curses of forgiveness; "This transgression could be forgiven You've had your fun, now come down from there The pain you caused, the body you've broken All that you've abandoned in the home I've built Just try to use the muscles I raised you with I knew you weren't ready for this Come sleep on my chest and let the cold soothe you Everyone has to die eventually." Coffin mother I hate you the ultraviolet burns my malnourished skin There is wood in my lungs, skin, hair Headboards feel like tombstones, Bouquets are mournful Coffin mother I miss you walking on my own with these unused legs makes me yearn for the embrace of sleep laying down in you to turn my brain off Coffin mother I don't love you But I do, in the way you love starvation after awhile Recovery can't stop my memories of enjoyment the high I chased of emptiness you gave I won't ever return to you, I'll blow my ashes in the wind, and you can die with whatever scars my freedom cost. Nobody is coming to fix the hole I punched through you to reach the sky. I can't remove the dirt from my nails or the splinters permanently in my blood. But you can't catch me to engulf my soul in it anymore. I don't care if I'm a dead thing among men. I will die with more life than I was born with. Despite you and your version of the world.

do u have a normal relationship with your mother or do you have to imagine yourself violently murdering her mid conversation in order to cope with her presence after everything she's done

It’s really hard living with disability and surviving the cruel regime of the United States. I’m tired of resting. I’m tired of being an ambulatory cane user who’s looking into wheelchairs just to reclaim a better fidelity for mobility. I’m tired of having to grieve alone what COVID-19 took from me for three years now.

I was scared. I was alone in isolation. There were no ambulances or hospital beds. I reached a critical point of multi day high fever and drowning in my lung fluid that I was ready to die. I reached a point where my body gave it all and the lights faded out. I was scared to survive. I still feel this.

I hope these days spent resting will mean something, for I am not sure or optimistic. For now, I am scared and I am tired.

I am not broken. I have been wounded.

I am not damaged. I have been hurt.

I am not useless. I am making the best of my limited capacity.

I am not lazy. I need rest to heal.

I am not unreliable. I live an unpredictable life.

I am not irresponsible. I am relearning how to function.

I'd make your life hell just like you did mine without any sliver of remorse

Nowadays they see me as selfish 'cause a long time ago I was actually the most selfless being

Giving up would be a win to everybody who tried to kill me and I'm not gonna give them another reason to celebrate

I never had any issues about knowing myself 'cause my whole family and every kind of environment crushed me by being myself, which means I was forced into knowing every inch of myself to recognize what exactly about me was seen as "wrong" by them

my pain is valid

my anger is valid

my anxiety is valid

my traumas are valid

my tears are valid, including the ones I didn't let fall and had to repress

and no one who hasn't been on my place has any right to say otherwise

I didn't had a hand to feed me, in fact the hands who were supposed to do it actually were the ones that made me starve and made sure I didn't felt worth of any shit

i'm starting to love this home that i'm building inside of myself

Working through the traumas my family keeps trying to erase by drawing them UwU

Working through the traumas my family keeps trying to erase by drawing them UwU

Sometimes my trauma makes me feel like I’m just staring into a television playing static

TW: RAPE, Trauma venting

Its been thirteen years since it happened and never had sex since, pretty much celibate but sometimes I feel like my own vagina dosnt even belong to me. Its tainted, a crimescene now and I'm really starting to want a vaginectomy because my worst fear is being raped again and impregnated and since I'm american bible thumpers force me to have a rapists child.

I'm terrified of that loss of control and misogynistic abuse and sadism. My mom want me to be a mother someday but I really want to remove my reproductive organs not for trans reasons but the whole American abortion bullshit.

PDA autistic culture is hating the demand that comes with labels so much that you don’t even like identifying as agender because it still feels like…a gender (a concept which society forcefully imposed on you, and you therefore want no part of)