Hpd Safe - Tumblr Posts

If you’re a stereotypically “good” person because of being abused then that’s great

If you’re a stereotypically “bad” person because of being abused then that’s great

Your response to trauma is valid, your response to abuse is valid and you don’t owe it to anyone to be inspirational.

My family talk about drinking special punch so we all go together.

But they don't know I would prefer not too go out with them.

I'd rather go out alone or with strangers instead bcz fk my family they aren't worth ending crap with let a lone life.

I'd never want to go back to being a child I encountered way too much back then,

Lived through too much trauma I don't want to encounter it again.

@lehhoh7822 sent me this video and now i have to post about it because i love talking about about hypersexuality and shame but im too lazy (aka feel too incompetent) to type my thoughts out so i share it with yall

ik this was the implications of the post but i wanna js type it out anyways that it feels really shit sometimes to live in such a shameful world that is so focused on everything being right.

i know sometimes the need to be good and "worthy" and all the other fun shame npd/hpd shame things in my head is exaggerated, but there truly is so much external shame. like where do we think it came from?

i was ranting to my friend about feeling inadequate in my kindness. that i felt shame for being selfish about it. that the fact i loved the attention from being kind made me feel so shit about myself. so horrible. that i was disgusting for it. that im a fraud. that i felt that i constantly had to mask because i either had to be kind or be shunned from society. that i had to be kind or the scum of the earth. that the fact i had to mask with kindness meant that i was actually the scum of the earth. because "truly kind" people didn't have to mask.

and that my kindness wasn't good enough. that i wasn't doing enough. that i was not good enough in my kindness because it was imperfect, or that it was because it was too inherently selfish which made it shit. or not worth it.

they told me that they literally did not care where my kindness came from. just that i was kind to them mattered. and that i was doing enough! that imperfection isn't bad! that kindness isn't going to inherently be good or perfect. that its okay to want thanks and praise for it. that i have needs too.

that i have needs too.

and that i did not always have to mask. kindness goes multiple ways, i can offer kindness. and people can be kind to me back when i am being a bitch. that i did not always have to hide the bubbling anger and hurt inside me. (because i matter too) (that i do not have to earn kindness) (that i do not have to earn kindness).

they also brought up that i was kind in so many ways that could make an impact. selfish or not. kind to the six year old kid that i'm going to grow up to hate. kind to the kids i've adopted in year 7 that i sometimes resent. kind to my friends who are complicated and hard and who deserve love no matter how much sometimes my brain gets so tired of loving and hurt from loving that it takes the feelings away again, that it makes me want to kill them sometimes. kind to my horrible ex, where its so much easier to be kind to them than my other friends but also so much easier to hate them forever. kind to them, always.

(they are truly the nicest to me) (and they make me better for it)

they told me that my kindness was a choice. that i chose over and over again to be kind. even if it was probably more of an inconvenience. even if it is the bare minimum, the fact that i choose it over and over again is so cool. (that even when it's the bare minimum most people do not realise how unkind they are as they preach its importance). that my kindness mattered no matter where it came from.

im just going to copypaste the thing they sent me

"the motivator is invisible!!!! you could be chaotic evil but all ur evil deeds are fundmentally kind and it literally would not matter!!!!!!!!! i know it wont change it, the feeling of hating and loving the attneiton as a thing that is good/bad wont change just from sasying this but i rpomise

it feels bad but its not"

who cares what a "truly kind" person is? that's not a thing.

i am kind for a multitude of reasons. i am kind because i learned to care about (some) people. i am kind because i want to try to help kids be happier, so they wouldn't end up like me (so that they won't hurt other people, so that they won't hurt themselves) (and even if they end up like me they will have someone to go to, someone who is somewhat positive in their lives, someone who will not hate them for being like me). i am kind because i love the attention from it (and i have to remind myself that that's okay, that i am not bad for wanting people's care). i am kind because i choose to be (and i don't always have to be).

and that's pretty cool.

I love you people who show kindness because "it's what you're supposed to do". I love you people who show kindess because they like being thanked. I love you people who show kindness because it makes them feel good. I love you people who show kindness because they were shown kindness first. I love you people who show kindness for "selfish" reasons. I love you people who show kindness for the "wrong" reasons. I love you people who show kindness in a body that rejects the very notion. Your kindness is not any lesser because of its motivations. The good you added to the world is just as valuable as someone doing it for the "right" reasons. Your effort is seen. Your effort is valued.

the assault is the human's perverted eye that is so blinded by delusion that it does not see its own perversion

and that god's own eye is blinded by his own false sense of justice

where the voyeur causes an exhibitionist in all human and cannot realise their normal is justification for an action that god would pardon for intention intention has been so valued that the self does not see its own wrongs it convinces itself that it's doing good

when human tells another's self it is hurtful it is intention that deludes and fuels the vitriol that may be justified with perspective of which an axe does not realise that it did not only slightly graze a tree but destroyed an entire forest

god does not care about forests in a way that matters

petrichor does not rise he cannot wash away the sins tacked on me by a human's hand a god's hand perverse

the exhibitionist’s hand forces skin to rise to the surface their disgust facetious to their own heart to forget their undying hatred for themself that they do not know (it is less painful that way)

to speak of it (them) (it) is to force discomfort in another and it is easier to shut than to be torched by their sputtering anger that avoids the feeling of the truth of the perversion that lies in the world and hence of the souls

all god would do is throw flames at the burning trees

prayers are gone unanswered in both his name and theirs

(i have begged to be saved from where i dangle from their arms like a handbag and ribbon has been shoved in my mouth for my own good as a bow sits at the corner of my lips and i smile because to speak is to sin )

my body has never been mine

the holy trinity is god, my mother, and him. (but the trinity is more than three, where my ex, my father, and they all also sit and laugh.)

being hpd/npd/in recovery is fucking wild because theres this guy that is so obsessive and i have like three reactions to him:

holy fuck hes fucking obsessed YES PLEASE hello??? i can do whatever the fuck i want??? and he is so akjsjjkaskdjksakjajsdlasjkdsa. the attention he gives me is so everything and i dont have to do anything for it. like ill wake up and have three digit notifications from him. LIKE. HELLO. and i can literally not even read any of it and send him a one sentence response. and he is so fucking EASY hes like a fucking dog. like he'll do whatever i say and he gives me so much attention especially sexually and romantically and god. its so FUNNY. its so addicting and like. he doesnt even fucking realise how much hes obsessed. (and he doesnt realise this isnt what friends do.... haha)

i hope he fucking kills himself. like. he is the worst man ever and he is so ANNOYING and he has such a shit reputation and can we just fucking drop him already like fucking. i hope he dies. i hope he suffers a long and painful death. but not too long. god and can he like stop. ive already told him multiple times to his face that i hate him and i hope he dies and that i dont care about him. hes such a nuisance and ive told him. like. stop. stop stop stop. kill yourself. like please hes such a BITCH- calling him a dog would be an insult to dogs.

hello why the fuck are we still??? talking to him??? god we are fucking arguing with ourselves everyday and also like its not worth it. and also he's fucking stalking us??? like yes i understand we get a kick out of it but also we are terrified??? LIKE. AND HES AWFUL. AND ANNOYING. can we fucking stop talking to him already??? we've expressed to him multiple times we hate his ass and he doesnt listen. he doesnt fucking listen???? gang- like-

anyways worth it

if there was no one around me, who would i be?

would i even want to draw doodles in the sand?

sometimes i wonder what i could have done differently.

but i was only five, eight, twelve years old. he was only twelve, fifteen, twenty years old.

my brother deserved better. i couldn't have helped him.

i was the golden, favourite child. more beloved than him. so sometimes i wonder what i could have done differently. instead of being paralysed, pathetically crying or drowning out the screaming as i hid. as the police sirens came to our house. having to ignore the blood and slamming noises.

as the golden child. the delicate, younger one. more perfect. more in line. sometimes i wonder if i could have stopped our parents. that maybe he would see my innocent beady eyes filled with sadness.

but i couldn't have.

because as i idealise that life i forget all the times my own life has been on the line. spit on my face. cigarette smoke blowing off his jacket. and where my father would yell at me and my mother would scold him. yet on another occasion the only comfort i could receive was being enshrouded by nicotine while her screams punctured my heart.

being the favourite did not mean being gold. it just meant coming out barely better than last place. it meant i had valued holding my tongue back. under the table jabs rather than overt critiques. that i forgot how to cry. that i cried when it was neither our parents fault and they felt like good parents for comforting me. that that was the only time i could receive attention and love.

my performance was the only thing deserving of love. that i was better than everyone else. but still beloved by everyone. that everyone was looking at me. that everyone was looking at me? i did not feel good about that one. they drilled it into me that i should be happy about it.

i have not had a conversation with my brother until this year. not a proper one.

i still wonder what i could have done differently.

Please. Starved.

If ur a narc or have HPD please reblog so I can give you some attention supply via boop! /Pos

Y'all together the support of pwHPD right with y'all too 🤝

Hi hello narcissists and friends, Ive just discovered june 1st is 'World narcissistic abuse awareness day' I propose we be horribly horribly annoying on this day and make it to spread awareness on how narcissistic abuse isnt real

I think we can ruin an ableists day if we try hard enough whos with me

sucks when a villain webtoon character is mentally ill coded and the hivemind says they should get cancer and kill themself for not being the protagonist

I can’t draw, but I wanted to try and design a histrionic plushie dreadful bunny, so here’s some ideas for one if anyone wants to use them:

-Interchangeable tragedy and comedy masks to represent feelings of having to act out to make others like/notice you and being easily suggestible, changing opinions and viewpoints to maximise attention

-Spotlight barrettes on the ears—One that lights up to represent desire to be the centre of attention, and one that’s cracked and broken to represent feelings of anxiety/inadequacy when not the centre of attention

-Clown collar to represent how the disorder can cause you seek attention in ways that appear silly, annoying and/or irrational to neurotypicals

-Vacant expression to represent feelings of emptiness/fear of being ignored and/or forgotten

I want to give pwNPD and BPD, HPD, ASPD all the love. virtual hugs. you guys deserve it. every day you're bombarded with ppl who would rather abuse you and use you as a scapegoat for the entire world's problems than actually solve any problems. the shit people say about you on the daily is horrifying. may you find the strength to keep going in spite of it.

shout out to my cluster b followers

y'all are seen, loved and wanted here, especially if you're trying to recover <3

we're not saying people with npd, aspd, ect cant hurt you or abuse you

we're saying disorder =/= abusive

people with npd, bpd, aspd, infact, ANY cluster b disorder CAN abuse you. HOWEVER, having those disorders dosent instantly make you an abuser

dont be abelist.

people with ANY disorder can abuse you. that dosent mean they WILL abuse you. the fact that they have that disorder dosent mean theyre an abuser. it dosent make them abusive. they can be abusive, that dosent mean suddenly every narcissist is evil, suddenly all aspd people are threatening you, all bpd people are rude and abusive. stop throwing around the word abuse like its nothing. stop specifically linking it to personality disorders. thats blatantly abelist.

ihope all cluster bs have a lovely lovely day please ignore the hate and abelism yall are so gorgeous treat yourself to your comfort food