Cptsd - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
Healthcare professionals always say they want a detailed patient history, but when the patient gives them that history instead of another medical professional they’re like ‘hmm that’s suspicious’
Healthcare professionals always say they want a detailed patient history, but when the patient gives them that history instead of another medical professional they’re like ‘hmm that’s suspicious’
I’m trapped. Literally. I’m constantly facing my triggers, again and again and again and again and again and again
I’m trapped inside my own head. I stare into space and everything becomes blurry, I’m back to where it all started. The emptiness, the abandonment, and the urge to self destruct.
Let the count down begin.
1
2
3
Family.
Bullshit. Absolute, utter bullshit. I was a toy. When I was no longer useful, I was tossed out like trash. I was abandoned.
Again.
Now, I’m back in the “ family”.
I’m facing my triggers every. Single. Fucking. Day.
I don’t know how much longer I can survive this. I’m going crazy. Everyone pities me.
Welcome old friend, have a seat. Make yourself comfy, get warm and cozy and I’ll remove the blood from my body to make a home for you.
Welcome home cptsd.
There is never a moment of peace.
Frankly, there never will be. Not for me, at least. Always in that state of surviving.
Never living.
Listening to footsteps.
Arguments, loud.
Across the hall. Less than five feet. Always raising their voice for no reason.
Unnecessary cussing. Annoying, triggering, and constantly implanted in my brain.
Cptsd creeped it’s way into me, open, inviting blurry arms I crawled into.
I will forever be trapped into the endless void of its hold on me
How many days has it been?
When did I see your smile for the last time?
Where did you go?
Unbearable. I shove these thoughts down to the deepest depths inside me. I let Shame mask me.
My memories were stolen from me.
A blank, black screen appears when I try to access the memory. And many other memories.
I was denied a look at him, after he had-
“ Thaw would’ve been too traumatic!”
I’m now left with a guilt, for not being able to see you one last time.
You took everything from me. You claimed it was for the greater good. Now, I can’t even remember his face.
My grandma died one summer. I woke up, my grandpa was freaking out, told me to go back to sleep. He went outside, called an ambulance.
I didn’t listen.
“ Nana?”
Dust particles waved around in the light shining through the windows. In front of one window, was the bed I was supposed to sleep in. I never slept in that bed, I always moved to the couch. I could never sleep alone.
In that bed, lied my grandma. She was as angelic as she was in death as in life.
She however was lifeless. Of course, this isn’t my first loss. She had a red blanked covering her cold body, as if she was asleep. A tear rolled down my eye when I sat next to her body.
I touched her arm.
“Nana?”
“Are you okay Nana?”
“Wake up Nana!”
I touched her forehead, caressing her hair. I leaned in close, waiting for her to wake. But when I first saw her, I knew.
I knew she was gone.
Im left with an angelic image of my grandma forever in my brain. If anything, I think it’s the one thing that helped me cope the most.
But him? My last image of him was stolen from me. I can’t see his face anymore.
Because they kept me from him, he is out of reach.
And that, is forever unforgivable
The amount of times my tears have just come out of nowhere.
I can’t control when I cry.
It just happens. I can’t stop it, I can’t prevent it, and I don’t know how to go about my day to day life. School, band, home life, when I’m around my boyfriend.
With my cptsd, I always have to put a cover around those I’m with. To appease them, calm the beast. Keep them happy, not angry not frustrated not sad not quiet not hurting
I have to keep them non threatening.
The truth is, all of the above are triggering. When they raise their voice, unnecessary cussing, when they have an attitude torwards me. When they’re quiet.
I have to shove trying to distance myself from them being triggering to keep them happy.
Because if I try to do what’s best for me, I always upset them. And that adds stress on me.
It’s a constant clusterfuck
(via "Embracing all the inner parts" Magnet for Sale by Queueka)
This helped a lot
going through my old journals as part of therapy homework and i'm reading a section written in the emotional wreckage of a full-on breakdown when i get hit with this line:
There is never a satisfying answer to ‘Why didn’t they love me?’
like wow babe. good fucking point
I suspect quite a few people on this site don’t realize they are struggling with the effects of chronic trauma. In particular I think more people need to learn about the symptoms of C-PTSD.
Distinct from general PTSD, Complex PTSD is caused by prolonged, recurring stress and trauma, often occurring in childhood & adolescence over an extended period of time. There are many risk factors, including: abusive/negligent caregivers, dysfunctional family life, untreated mental/chronic illness, and being the target of bullying/social alienation.
I’m not a mental health professional and I’m not qualified to diagnose anyone, I just remember a million watt light bulb going off in my head when I first learned about C-PTSD. It was a huge OH MY FUCKING WORD eureka moment for me—it explained all these problems I was confused and angry at myself for having. The symptoms that really stood out to me were:
Negative self-perception: deep-seated feelings of shame, guilt, worthlessness, helplessness, and stigma. Feeling like you are different from everyone else, like something is fundamentally ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’ with you.
Emotional avoidance of topics, people, relationships, activities, places, things etc that might cause uncomfortable emotions such as shame, fear, or sadness. Can lead to self-isolation.
Learned helplessness: a pervasive sense of powerlessness, often combined with feelings of desensitization, wherein you gradually stop trying to escape or prevent your own suffering, even when opportunities exist. May manifest as self-neglect or self-sabotage. (I remember watching myself make bad choices and neglect my responsibilities, and having no idea why I was doing it, or how to stop myself. Eventually I just stopped caring, which led to more self-neglect.)
Keep reading
There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women.
- Madeline Albright
im fucking fuming over this i cant even lie like what the actual fuck is this. straight up evil behavior. also good job literally flat out admitting amber was indeed abused by depp since u fully acknowledged that she suffers from ptsd and that the ptsd is directly related/linked to him. literally just proudly telling us that ”yeah i knew he had abused amber and that amber has ptsd from it so i decided that we should try to give her panic attacks and just totally torment her like wouldnt it be so funny to give her flashbacks so she feels like shes being raped again lol she will look so craaazyyy” like honestly kill urself
Hello, this is my first post here, but not even close to my first experience on Tumblr. I’ve missed it. The times when I spent hours on here, brimming with excitement to hear new fan theories or share my art with the world. I’d like to experience that again.
While I was absent the world has changed, I have changed. It’s been about half a decade and while my view on life isn’t too different, it’s enough to make me introspective and nostalgic. I don’t know how I want to go about this, as my work and my life are inescapably tied yet I constantly try to separate them for the “betterment” of my image and wallet. I’m tired of that.
I want to experience freedom of thought, of words, of expression in one place. Tumblr was where I was free once, and I’d like that again.
Anyway, enough of the sappy nonsense.
My name is Soleil. I am 21 years old and I’m from the southeastern coast of the United States. I am a Cancer, and my Meyer’s Briggs is INFT/J depending on when I’ve taken the test. None of that matters in comparison to how you perceive me and my art, but it does matter to some. I’m open to questions, engagement, and interactions (minors dni).
In this blog I will be discussing myself and my issues along with other things I find interesting. I have CPTSD, ADHD, and I’m probably autistic according to my doctor, but I haven’t gotten the full diagnosis yet. If those things bother you, this probably isn’t the blog for you, but I have no problem tagging things so others can avoid it.
In terms of my art, I enjoy gouache, watercolor, digital art, colored pencils, oil painting, acrylic, mixed media, and really anything else I can get my grubby little hands on. I also have random bursts of fanart energy. Stay tuned!
sometimes i wake up from my dreams with names of people i don’t know and immediately make wild accusations. i will not explain further, yet my brain knows what tori the egg lady did. i personally do not know what she did but i stg it’s on site.
There are spiderweb cracks running through my skull
And if you jammed your fingers in
You could pull and tear at the hull
Dig with your nails and break the skin;
But you just let sleeping dogs lie
You’re scared of that grey rotting meat
But me I want to bark and cry
I’m tired of lying at your feet
So I will bash my head against the cold hard tile
And I’ll bite off your hand before you even shout
And maybe I will die but I’ll go down in style
Chew until one of us can spit the other out.
"Jason keeps making comments about his death and it's whiny" this "Jason is always talking about his death" that... Jason is always thinking about his death. Because that's what trauma is, being trapped in the moment, reliving it again and again and again. Children with PTSD/CPTSD sometimes do this thing where they play games when they recreate their trauma, and the explanatory hypothesis is that they're trying to fix it in a way. Adults with PTSD/CPTSD tend to find themselves at risk in similar situations. Being trapped in a time loop of the worst moments of your life and trying to stop something that's already happened, begging to be saved even if it's too late, lashing out to defend yourself after the fight is over. And I know the confrontation in UTRH is complex and about a lot of things, especially about Jason and Batman and Bruce, but also I can't help thinking, this reads a lot like trauma reenactment. And Bruce's response... Let's just assume it didn't really help.
So, yeah. Jason talks about his death a lot. Jason is still in that warehouse, in that coffin, still being tortured and dying and buried alive. Jason is still calling for help.
One of those days where I'm at my absolute lowest point mentally but I'm not allowed to talk about it because talking about it online gets my account reported and taken down, and I can't talk about it in real life because very few people care and talking about it just makes them mad at me, and if I tell the wrong person, I'll have a "welfare check" of multiple armed cops showing up at my door treating me like a criminal.
Living with PTSD and depression is fucking impossible sometimes and nobody understands.
Actually every Front Bottoms songs is just 👌👌
SPEAKS to my little traumatized childhood self
This fucking song man