Many Endless Nights

Most of violence I was put thru as a child included terror, because that was the point, to make me feel like I’m about to be killed. And I felt it, my abusers always seemed so crazy, enraged and out of control, they didn’t seem like they cared if they broke my limb or snapped my neck, and they would even scream about how much they wanted to kill me while beating me. At first I was fighting back, because I couldn’t stand being controlled by violence. But fighting back would enrage them even more, and lead to a few times I believed they came very close to killing me. So I started to freeze in panic when faced with violence. My survival instincts would no longer allow me to fight back, because it meant risking death. I couldn’t do anything, and I hated myself for it. I felt weak and powerless. And that was the point of it. By facing me with near-death experience, they made sure I wouldn’t be able to resist or fight back. By screaming how much they wanted me dead, they made sure I was in death fear for as long as they were around. This was done on purpose, by an adult, to be able to beat a child, without experiencing any resistance.

Now one of the problems I have that makes it impossible for me to recover is: I can’t remember the pain. I can’t remember how it felt, or how my injuries looked like. I remember as a kid I refused to feel the pain. I would chant “I don’t feel it, I don’t feel it”, or even hurt myself worse, just so I wouldn’t be able to feel the pain and injuries inflicted on me. I thought, if I don’t feel it, then it wont work, and I will no longer be controlled by violence. Or maybe I just couldn’t handle knowing my closest family members would do this to me.

But now I can no longer exist correctly in my body.

I am always dissociated from my limbs. I can’t keep their form in my mind. I don’t know what my limbs look like. Even when looking at them, I can’t remember them. I feel repulsed by them. And sometimes I get intrusive images that show me that under my skin, my flesh is rotting. I feel chronic pain in all muscles. I’m wondering if that’s the pain of physical abuse, coming back in waves.

What I’m feeling makes sense, because if I was able to remember, and feel my limbs, I would have to be aware that I’m living in a body that’s been tortured. I can’t live with that. I would want to get out of my body immediately. So this might be the only way for me to keep existing. My own body feels like something dangerous, because it contains the memories that might just end me. I don’t want to be in a body this was done to. I don’t think anyone would.

WOAH!

tw: death/souls

Me: That’s cool and all, but did you ask the spirit if you could take it?

Random witch: lol what?????

do you walk into someone’s house and take things without asking and/or offering anything?

I don’t see graveyards as the home of the dead literally at all whatsoever. Just where they store their mortal shells for the comfort of the living.

I’d be more inclined to ask the dead about what I do in my own house since a man who lived here for decades died in this house, and his beloved son is still here.

My culture sees it at a resting area & meeting place for the living & passed to visit. So it’d be like taking something from a family room or if you take directly from there bed it’d be like if someone came & took all of your pillows.

A long time ago an anon asked my thoughts about drawing backgrounds, so I finally got around to putting this together. It’s more prop-centric, but it still represents my philosophy to backgrounds. 

I once asked my parents if we could have a sanitary bin in the guest bathroom, and also a crustacean menstruation station, ya know, this thing

Before we go any further, let’s start with a simple question. In what way does it help anyone to paint this image of the average therapist as basically Aunt Lydia, mostly there to pass moral judgment and control people through pain and fear? Seriously, if what you are trying to do is encourage people to get help, it does no good to go around saying, “If you told a therapist you ship XYZ, your therapist would condemn you.”

But let’s ask what a therapist might classify as a paraphilia.

“According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5), the term paraphilic disorder is reserved for those cases in which a sexually deviant fantasy or impulse has been expressed behaviorally,” (Sadock, Sadock, & Ruiz, 2015). The individual’s ability to respond sexually to ordinary sexual stimuli must be inhibited in some way. Additionally, “Paraphilic disorders entail divergent behaviors in that those acts involve aggression, victimization and extreme one-sidedness,” (Sadock, Sadock, & Ruiz, 2015).

Hmm. So sounds like a paraphilic disorder is a sexual proclivity that causes harm to oneself or others and consumes one’s sexual self in a way that makes intimacy difficult. They can also be diagnosed when someone’s fetish causes them to dehumanize a real, actual partner.

Exploring one’s experiences and emotions through fanfiction is not really represented in the chapter on paraphilic disorders. In fact, I don’t see any reference to fanfiction at all. 

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