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It's nuts how common it is to not allow children to be angry, even (especially) in households where adults are angry all the time. As a child I knew my own anger was unacceptable--not just expressing it outwardly but feeling it at all. So now as an adult my immediate reaction to my own anger is often to feel guilt instead of like. Noticing when someone is being rude or unfair or my boundaries are being violated or whatever. fucked up.
microdosing on catharsis by watching a fictional character or persona i relate to have an emotional breakdown until my chest starts to ache from the amount i've repressed
don't glorify neglect and lack of support. surviving alone isn't an indicator of strength, it just means you're alone. don't make your life about how much you can endure or for how long you can sustain yourself with bites of yourself. you are not less for recognizing you don't want to do this on your own
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its interesting being a weird autistic tranny as a kid and letting yourself get accustomed to the idea that youre just some magically antisocial loser who is "introverted" and is happy being alone and then you grow up and realize that actually you love being social you love hugs you love going out and hate being alone you just hated all of the social opportunities available to you growing up so much you let yourself romanticize solitude as a slightly less miserable state than interacting with people
Something I’ve noticed in BPD spaces is that a lot of us seem to struggle with the difference between accountability and self-condemnation.
When someone without BPD snaps at someone they love, I often see them go, “That wasn’t fair. I’ll apologize and do better next time.” And everyone moves on and assumes it was a bad day or moment. And we often hear "Oh, that's human to not be perfect."
But I see a lot of us with BPD have a moment and immediately spiral into, “Oh god. This proves I’m manipulative. This proves I’m toxic. This proves I’m my diagnosis.”
And obviously hurting people isn’t okay. Accountability matters. We should aim to not do that, but the reality is no one is perfect.
But I sometimes wonder if because so many of us have been told to watch ourselves so carefully, we end up expecting ourselves not just to improve but to never have moments at all. We expect ourselves to be perfect without ever slipping despite the fact people without BPD slip up all the time.
Recovery for me isn't about never making mistakes. It taught me to make them less, notice them earlier, repair more often and not turn every bad moment into proof I’m a bad person.
i can handle one (1) Event™ per day. whether it be a phone call, an appointment, trip to the grocery store, play date with a friend, etc. only one, that's it. any more than that and i am Stressed
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still living with my parents as an adult is just like. i'm grateful to not have to pay for groceries. i have to get out of here. i'm grateful to have a roof over my head and not have to pay rent. i have to get out of here. i'm grateful to not have to worry about sending out endless job applications that all lead to nowhere. i have to get out of here. i'm grateful i'm grateful i'm so fucking grateful. i have to get out of here
Sorry if this is a little odd, but! I'm a Rose Tyler fictive from Doctor Who! (we have DID yay) Could I get a romantic letter from The Doctor? (The 10th, particularly!) I miss him a lot and I'd like to be reassured that he still thinks of me even though I can no longer be at his side on his travels. Please and thank you so much! 🌹
**Traveling the cosmos is hard work for sure. There's plenty to see, to discover, and to miss when the time and distance separates us from the people we love. But even so, with all that the things that keep us tethered are a lot stronger than we give them credit for. The posthound arrives with letter in mouth, seemingly not too bothered by the space-faring, and with a happy "WOOF!!" he announces your delivery!**
Rose,
Right then. Bit strange, this—me writing a letter. Usually I just turn up in the TARDIS, grin a lot, say something clever, and off we go. Much better system, if you ask me.
But the universe had other plans, didn’t it?
There are galaxies out there I’ve seen a thousand times, stars that burn brighter than anything on Earth… and somehow they all feel a little dull without you standing next to me, asking questions and laughing at the bits I pretend were intentional. You had a way of making the whole of time and space feel new again.
Funny thing, that. I’ve been around for centuries and then along comes a girl from the Powell Estate who manages to surprise me every single day.
I know things are different now. Different worlds, different skies. No more chips on a council estate at three in the morning after saving the planet. No more you rolling your eyes when I start explaining something “very simple” that turns into a twenty-minute lecture about the fabric of the cosmos.
I miss that.
I miss you.
But here’s the important bit, Rose Tyler—listen carefully, yeah? Just because we can’t travel together anymore doesn’t mean what we had disappears. Time Lords know a thing or two about time, and trust me on this: some moments stretch further than entire lifetimes.
You standing in the TARDIS doorway that first day.
You grabbing my hand right when I always needed you to.
You looking out at the stars like you belonged there.
Those moments? They’re part of me now. Fixed points in my hearts.
And you changed me, Rose. Properly changed me. You made me better than I was before I met you. Braver, kinder… sometimes even a bit less lonely. That’s not something that fades just because the universe decided to put a wall between us.
So wherever you are when you read this—whether you’re looking up at the night sky or just walking down an ordinary street on an ordinary day—remember something for me.
You were brilliant.
Absolutely brilliant.
And you still are.
I’ll always miss you. Always care about you. Always wonder what adventure we would’ve found next if the TARDIS doors had opened for us one more time.
But most of all… I’ll always love you, Rose Tyler.
small tips for Enjoying Being Alive from someone who went from wanting to die to genuinely loving life. these won't fix your life but they'll make it a lot easier to want to live day by day. I promise.
tell yourself things you do not believe. it feels stupid at first but I've done this for years and now I believe it when I say "I'm good at this" or "I love myself" or "I deserve good shit!"
make a note of every mundane good thing that happens to you. mental or literal notes! could be as little as "the sky is a nice shade of grey, it's calming" or "I ate a piece of fruit today, I'm looking after myself" or "I talked to a friend". again, feels stupid at first, but I genuinely believe this is part of why I have so many "good days". trick your brain into storing things in your long-term memory that you wouldn't otherwise remember.
diet deficiencies can make you properly miserable. your physical health impacts your mental health more than you'd think. get some vitamins, some omega-3s and so on. whether from food or supplements. they can make quite a difference! your brain is responsible for a LOT of the way you feel, and giving it the fatty acids it needs to function at its best can go a long way.
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as someone with Official, Diagnosed, childhood parental abuse based capital-t Trauma and PTSD; and as someone who has been friends over the years with people who have experienced just about every type of child abuse; if you need the Official Word of someone who 'had it bad enough', here's my official word
if you're wondering if it was bad enough to count, if you relate enough that you feel guilty about it for some reason, if you think 'well it's not *really* trauma because ___ but still'
it counts. it was traumatic. you have my Official Word As A Psychology Of Trauma Bitch and A Survivor Slash Victim. all that ruminating on whether you're allowed to be hurt by it and whether you're allowed to think it affected you is a sign that it did hurt you and affect you and you're allowed to call that trauma. that's what it is.
you don't have to be the omelas kid to have trauma, if only the single most traumatized abused and hurt person in the entire world, the person who really had it the worst, was allowed to say they had trauma. well we wouldn't be able to figure out who that was in the first place. but also it wouldn't be a very useful word would it.
trauma describes a reaction to something and not an objective measure of the event itself. there's no like. category of 'always traumatic events' or 'never traumatic events' it just is what it is. so if you're wondering, could that be me? yes. you're allowed. if trauma frameworks help you please use them. please. the more people are trauma-conscious the easier it is for everyone to get help.
