#progressive mutism

cw: negative emotions, long post

i don’t know much about this. and do not have the energy to research.

but just wanted to talk about it. because when i first heard of it, it freaked me out so badly.

was so so so scared of my situational mutism getting worse. was scared of ‘losing situations’ in which i could speak.

and there’s only so far you can tell someone that their worth isn’t defined by how far they can/cannot communicate. because yes that’s true. but it still hurts so much not to be able to speak.

it feels like grief sometimes. know it seems trivial, but i miss hearing my voice out loud. i miss the strange ways my voice sounds out my accent and mispronounces every single fucking word.

i miss my non-anxious voice. because more and more situations now are either ones am mute in, or one’s am very anxious in. so all i hear now is my anxious voice. which is higher pitched and quieter. it is Not my voice. and it’s hard to identify with who i am when am anxious, because that stuff is painful.

and when i first heard of the term i was scared i would never speak again. i don’t know why. because i’ve never enjoyed speaking. developed sm at 11, so have never had an easy relationship with it. but it’s fine to be scared about losing an ability.

in the past when my anxiety and sm got really bad (and there was other stuff going on), speaking and my voice became this really embarassing thing. i told myself that it was all or nothing.

and i still have that rule. if people don’t know i can speak, then they must never hear my voice. my emotions too. any sign of a personality or personhood became embarrassing. so i told myself “never speak again”.

to be clear. my sm is not a resolve to never speak again. it is involuntary and very frustrating. but from that frustration and difficulty with speaking, comes a hatred of my voice and of speaking.

so i get scared that there will be no situations left where i can feel safe. that my world will be small.

you can call me twelve (i'm not actually 12, don't worry.) i'm a british teenager living with mutism. i'm diagnosed selective but most likely have the progressive mutism subtype, meaning i'm completely unable to speak (yes, even if i'm on a beach in the bahamas with a packet of crisps, my best friend, and a piña colada) so i primarily use British Sign Language to communicate. i like to swim and play music, i have atrociously bleached blonde hair, and i like peach aesthetics (as you can probably tell).

~Inspired by a previous ask with War (Link) -thanks to the person who asked! :) This is more like a quickie description but Death is my favourite H/M so meh xD 

You've never been comfortable around authoritative figures. The fact that you were in the care of one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, or more accurately, leader of said Apocalyptic Horsemen, unfortunately didn't improve matters for you.

Although Death has neither lost patience nor ever criticised your inability to verbally communicate with him, you've always been intimidated by the power and dominance he exuded over other races. Oblivious to him, this only served to escalate your progressive mutism and your anxiety sky rocketing. But over the course of time, you’ve slowly learned to relax in his presence.

He always spoke to you, rarely asking close ended questions in favour of open ended ones. Albeit mainly rhetorical, you were grateful that he was treating you as a fully functioning individual with the full capacity to understand. What struck you the most with this otherworldly being was his knack for witty, callous humour. But with you, he was always teasing, never mocking. He seemed to reserve the more ruthless rebukes for those that spited him.

In the beginning, you'd wait till his attention appeared averted before you'd discreetly hug Despair's muzzle. The spectral horse would snort softly and due to your small frame, you'd speculate that the horseman mightn't have caught sight of you. One day, you were travelling in the Forge Lands together when he had decided to summon Dust. You had guessed that he might've required his assistance in locating something until he murmured a soft command to the bird. The next thing you knew, you were cuddling a vulture sized crow in your arms while it cawed happily as you walked beside the rider. Little did you know that beneath the shadows of his bone mask, a tiny smile was playing on his lips.

When your emotions became overwhelming, silent tears would stream down your face whilst clutching both spectral mammal and bird. The reaper would pretend to overlook your distress at first, not out of malice, but for privacy's sake. Death is a very guarded being and would maintain the smallest shreds of his worry even from his closest kin that he would sometimes forget that you were not Nephilim, and most certainly not him.

Due to your silent demeanour, you'd often remind Death of his youngest brother which only amplified his fondness of you. Eventually, he began to let his own guard down, most noticeably when you were sitting together and he'd chat a lot less than usual. Sadly, this change in character only served to trouble you and you'd misunderstand it as a gradual lost of interest. In truth, the rider was starting to feel comfortable enough to shed some of his nonchalant and cynical façade to adopt a more pensive, sober demeanour. You'd observe a softer, gentler glow in his golden eyes and he'd sit with his hands clasped lightly together.

Your heart would pound painfully against your chest and you'd feel words churn like jelly in your stomach as you’d observe your guardian companion. Eventually, you'd come to realise that contrary to distancing himself from you, he was actually connecting to you in his own way.

I cry whenever I log into this blog. it’s like indulging in a terrible secret about myself, but I have to let off some steam somehow. what if everything I wrote in my first post wasn’t exactly true? I mean scrape off the negative attitude and familial resentment and the basic bones are still there: the unemployment, the friendlessness. but it’s not like my sister constantly communicates to me how wonderful her life is compared to mine, I really don’t know the stresses and problems associated with her work, except that she’s too busy to enjoy time off.

I remember a heartfelt moment when she confessed to me that she still sees the possibilities in me, that I can have a boyfriend or family or be whatever I dream to be, that she saw inklings of it when I was in my early twenties trying on different clothes and hairstyles and trying to break out of this... this box, I guess, only to face social anxiety and selective mutism as stumbling blocks almost along every step of the way. I did work up the courage to go back to school for a few semesters recently, managed to read a poem I wrote in front of class, but anxiety and mutism still rears its ugly head again whenever I have to seek help with the schoolwork.

E.H. Timms reviews Louder Than Words by Laura Jarratt →

In my experience, most reactions to selective/progressive mutism fall neatly into two categories. Either the person forgets you are there, or they decide you’re just pretending and try to force you to talk to prove you’re a faker. Rafi gets both of these reactions, and the first one is even instrumental in setting up the book’s plot. Rafi hears information because the people talking have forgotten she’s there, and the actions she and her brother take as a result set everything else in motion. Rafi is very much an active protagonist, and her responses, both written/texted and non-verbal, are treated as normal dialogue, which is wonderful.

Mute

Pairings: Larry

Summary: How is love supposed to speak, when one can’t even choke out the words?

Louis’ life was a joke through his witty words. Harry’s life was a joke through his lack of words. Louis was classed as a normal child; mentally and physically. Harry was classed as an abnormal child; mentally and physically. Louis could speak. Harry could not. Harry had progressive mutism. Louis did not.

Warnings: Depression/Anxiety themes