Trauma - Tumblr Posts
So... Does anyone else's mum threaten them with a baseball bat because they "never asked for a retard of a child" whilst your dad watches along with your siblings as they just smile at you, or do have a normal family?
Maladaptive daydreaming really does get you down; like one moment parame is living their best life, in a happy, safe and loving relationship away from all stress and pain. Then all of a sudden I've been pulled away from that world and into this one, kept focused on the moment by words of hatred and discontent at my very existence, desperate to go back to daydreaming.
wow, love that my school finally enforced that I get counselling after my parents have forbidden it for so many years because they know they'll be in deep shit if I call them out. So my mum sits there today violently grabbing at my face and screaming what she'll do if I "go off telling lies". She's just scared for herself.
So, something that I've noticed is that I've never really seen anyone talk about non-human paras. Like most of my prominent paras are mythical creatures, such as Goblins, Faeries, Pixies, Nymphs, and some of them are like spirits/ghosts/entities. But I've seen that a lot of people pretty much only have human paras, where I have little to no human paras. Could it be something to do with the way people have treated me throughout my life? My dislike/growing fear of people? I'm just not sure, but I feel uncomfortable when ever I meet a human para, like I instantly distrust them and make myself distanced from them.
Sometimes I just realise that the only reason I stay alive is so that I can daydream.
Constantly daydreaming of what could have been, a better time, a better life altogether
Just saying...
Please do not interact unless you have experienced any form of trauma or abuse and/or experience mental illness, especially with maladaptive daydreaming.
I do not want people re-blogging or commenting on posts (mainly) about MaDD saying stuff like "omg, this is so me because I like to pretend ___ every once in a while". Or "oh, I'm just so imaginative like this".
Like, shut up. Shut up. It's not fun living like this. It hurts. Especially after going on for aeons thinking the daydreams were helping, but I get to a point of realising that it's not, and it's not okay. I'm not okay.
It's okay, I'll be here for you to use until you get bored ☺️
Might just fucking end it (or try to, again). I don't have anyone to stay alive for anymore and they clearly didn't need me to begin with. I'm such an idiot to think I could ever be wanted, I'm completely alone again, there's nothing for me here
HOLY // jvs
"I NEVER FELT HOLY UNTIL THE DAY YOU LEFT; GOOD RIDDANCE. THOUGHTS OF YOU MAKE ME SICK TO MY STOMACH; GOOD GOD. I AM MUCH MORE THAN YOU WILL EVER BE; ALLELUIA. -JVS"
I feel so seen.
the traumatized child thing of getting really stressed whenever you have to ask for clarification on something bc you Know the yelling is coming
Maladaptive daydreaming
Today I learned that my addiction with daydreaming and my habit of constantly daydreaming in order to fall asleep is a psychology disorder called maladaptive daydreaming. It is said to be caused by trauma. It usually serves as an escape from reality when things get too hard for me to manage and in doing so, I cultivated a hobby of writing stories and daydreaming on a daily basic. I also need to create these scenarios for me to actually fall asleep. If I clear these things out from my head and my head is clear, I won’t be able to fall asleep or get insomnia. I didn’t know that it was related to childhood trauma. Since I was young, this had been my way of coping with the reality. I escaped into this dream-like realm that I created in my head and immerse myself into it until I lose sense of reality and what is happening around me. I thought I was just too addicted to daydreaming.
Parents
My parents are literally so funny; they think parenting is just financially supporting the household and feeding us. It is as if that is they have the right to us. Like sir, madam, parenting has much more depth to it then that; even I know more about parenting than you who lived about twice the time I have ever lived. Please, it’s true you made those children but your children are not yours to manipulate and control or mold them into perfect shape, they’re their own person, you are just there to support them, not own them. And that’s on toxic parents.
Being a perfectionist
My parents are no different than a stranger; they know what I am by the mask I put on, merely knowing my outer appearances. They see my mistakes, flaws, but they are blind to either what I’m going through or what I’m fighting against on the inside. They are keen to my faults but they are way too shallow to see my bleeding heart or scars. I’m a perfectionist, why? Because they won’t take it if I fail or make a mistake. Therefore, I grew up thinking being perfect is the only way for me to get love. They don’t see my efforts in doing the task but called me useless if I made so much as a single mistake. Since they won’t take even a fraction of a scrape on things I did, I had no choice but to accomplish everything perfectly, hoping that I will at least hear a praise. But you know what? There is none, there never was and there will never be. Now I know the answer as to why I always seek validation. At least I am with me. I will try to tell myself that there is no need to do everything perfectly anymore, instead I will pat myself on the back and say the words they failed to say; “good job”, “well done”, or “I’m proud of you.”
Inner child
Whenever I think of breaking the generational trauma or breaking the cycle, it always makes me think of the little girl in me who just wanted to be loved. She wanted, no...needed... her mum, she needed her love. My heart breaks whenever I think of the inner little girl in me who just wanted her parents to love her and be there for her.
I don’t know if it’s just me or what but I have a hard time believing someone when they say they love me. As a child, I never felt loved or received love from my parents. They never say “Honey, I love you.” I never received hugs or smooches. They’re always both neck deep in work and even when they give me materialistic things, they always make sure I understood I owed them and therefore needed to make it up to them in some ways. So, now as an adult, I can only understand the concept of love, and never feel it towards anyone. The idea of love is probably so far fetched to me that I can never really know.
Hhhhhhh!
I want to know the story of the burial mounds. How did this place of great resentment come to be? Is the war framing wwx's first life just one of many, does it even make the list of the worst?
A mass grave that everyone knows about, the land barren and abandoned -- how much effort was put into cleansing and at the cost of whom? Where are the families of those buried there, descendents that know of those restless, resentful spirits left to fester?
Every interpretation of what wwx was exposed to, what he learned and lost, what he did to survive there makes me so feral. 3 months in hell. He knew one person couldn't do all that the Yiling Laozu was accused of, the unconsenting object of the masses' need to construct a boogeyman. But I think he came out of the burial mounds knowing well what a systemic force of greed and violence could accomplish.
(All this related to some chaotic thoughts about wwx & his empathy being his key characteristic -- not just his genius. As much as he was stripped, homicidal, starved, feral coming out of the mounds, it is his fundamental ability to connect and relate that saves his spirit over and over. I'm obsessed with him 😭.)
Wei Ying had this murky image of a domestic life with a dedicated partner and a little one, hand in hand, warm and loving, all that good stuff, but she told herself that was just an echo of her only memory with her parents. That reality was far, far away, and Wei Ying had more urgent matters now. She always seemed to have more urgent matters. Thankfully, Lan Zhan was always there to keep her steady.
I'm a few chapters in to a fic about wen yuan getting taken into foster care with cisswap wangxian. It's a lot and I don't know how long it will end up, but it's been lovely for processing some of my own experiences with becoming a foster parent. I have so many scenes saved up that I want to get to, just need to stitch them together! (My least favorite part lol.)
Rated M (may change to E, not sure yet).
tw childhood trauma, panic attacks, distressed babies (wwx included), so far just vague allusions to neglect and emotional abuse
Title from Notion by Tash Sultana.
The pain wasn't the issue. Pain was a part of life, part of his training, his willful personality requiring discipline he lacked from the time on his own. The pain was fine, expected if not welcomed, a representation of his acceptance at Lotus Pier. It was a sign of investment from the Jiang: time and resources to shape him into a strong cultivator, a right hand man to Jiang Cheng worthy of their philanthropy when the time came, at the very least not a blemish on their sect lineage.
The issue was that Wei Ying needed to be unconscious. He needed the time spent away, in darkness, left from his body so it could heal while he wasn't there to hinder it. He could feel the tightness of his eyes, bloodshot with too much continuous time here, present, active. He needed his time to be nothing so that tomorrow he could attempt to be something.
A snippet from the fic doc I write in when I feel like shit. 😆