Have I Told Y’all About My Husband’s Fork Theory?  If I Did Already, Pretend I Didn’t, I’m An

Somewhere, in a dump probably, is twenty year old tape with my skin cells and hair and blood on it, and it fucking drives me crazy that as a teenager, I was convinced there was no proof.

listen, bad poetry is self care, this is the hill i die on

So… I got a notification from the State Department at like 8 PM Pacific that my passport was approved, and I was quietly thankful and stunned bc my legal gender in Oregon is listed as X, or undeclared, and that's what's on my passport. I'm pretty sure someone(s) worked late to get the X passports done today.

I was already really grateful to whoever in the Seattle Passport Office worked late to get these things processed on the last Friday before That Man gets back into office... and then I got a notification that my passport shipped at fucking midnight Pacific and whoever got that shit out the door so it couldn't be picked up on Monday and like, denied and shredded?

They're my fucking hero.

Happy to help, glad it is informative :)

I think it depends! I'm not sure how it was before I was able to integrate with that part of myself, so I can only speak to what I can actually remember. But for the times I remember, it's very mixed. I'll know that I'm talking to my husband, but I'll be absolutely convinced he's angry at me (which is untrue), that I'm somehow unsafe (also untrue), and that I need to defend myself (never true with him tbh). If I'm aware enough to have the insight that I'm wrong, then I'm also frustrated/confused/angry about not being in control enough to use logic to control my behavior- but I don't always have that insight. So I'd say, usually, I am in the mindset of the past while being aware that I'm not physically in the past.

From what my husband has told me, during the times I have amnesia for, it sounds like I have no idea what's happening but I still know who he is and where I am. But he's said that I don't make any sense, like he will have me try to explain why I'm upset, and I can't really coherently put my thoughts together.

I remember one episode where I had been triggered by several things, and we were standing in the kitchen, and I was saying really awful horrible things to him- like he was trying to upset me on purpose, he was gaslighting me, etc- but he'd say "can you tell me why you think that?" And I couldn't. I don't remember how we had gotten to the kitchen, or what he had said that allegedly upset me. And I KNEW I was wrong, and I really wanted to stop yelling at him, but I felt so out of control. Like somebody else was operating my body, even though obviously I was operating myself lol. So I literally turned around, grabbed the handles of the kitchen cabinet, and yelled for like 15 seconds.

And then my sweet husband was like "yeah! You tell that trauma!" So then I laughed and then had a panic attack. And then we made dinner. An ordinary Thursday, lmfao.

Call for People who Have First Hand Experience with PTSD

(Part of The Research Game, question by @z-mizcellaneous-z)

We are wondering if anyone who has first-hand experience can share with us what PTSD flashbacks look or feel like to you, as well as what it might look like from the outside perspective (such as witnessed by friends/strangers).

(please only share if you're comfortable. You can also send me an anonymous ask instead!)

Everyone else, reblog this around until we can find someone who has the answer!

(Otherwise, there's a Youtube channel I know of that aims to spread awareness of PTSD and may help you here: https://youtu.be/vdLfrJSzMY8, though it's important to note she has Complex PTSD, which is slightly different and is characterized by prolonged trauma rather than a single event)

feeling trapped

i think one of the things i'm struggling with the most is the feeling of being trapped. it's what the majority of my nightmares focus on, either with memories of real events or invented trauma-based dream nonsense, but i haven't parsed out exactly why this is such an issue for me still.

for all intents and purposes, i'm not trapped anymore. i've been out of that environment since 2008. i've been no-contact with my abusers since 2018. i'm married, living in a different county, in my own house with my partner and two dogs. i am the least trapped i've ever been.

though i do feel trapped in my body- it's maddening sometimes, having to deal with my chronic illness and disability on top of this mental health baggage. it's frustrating. but i don't really think that's what the issue is, with this trapped feeling.

i know it somehow relates to my trauma, but i can't put my finger on why my brain feels the need to process this now. what even is there to process? i was trapped. often physically, always psychologically, but like why does my brain keep telling me there is something deeper about this that i'm not understanding? it's like having a word or phrase on the tip of my tongue. there is something but i don't know what.

one of the reasons my therapist suggested writing online, anonymously, is because my trapped feelings can be triggered when i want to talk about my trauma but get stuck in the potential consequences of doing so with my identity attached. my abusers have both, separately, threatened me with lawsuits should i ever attempt to report them again or go public with my story. defamation, libel, countersuits if charges are pressed again. as if i would even want to go through the trauma of legal proceedings, all over again, since all it ever did was make my life harder. that court experience was worse than some of the rapes i remember.

so i'm writing, to see if putting this out into the world helps this feeling. or maybe it will help something else inside of me. part of me wonders if i'm just using it as an excuse to lean into the trauma more, since feeling broken down is more comforting than feeling strong, even now. the pain of it feels safe.

This song is such a fucking gift

Hey guys, IRL Autumn here. As much as I'd love to be here with my usual jokes, This is something much more serious.

For those who don't know, the UK government has recently announced plans to cut Disabled benefits by 4.6K a year if a person isn't or won't find a work from home position.

To massively simplify the current system, Disabled benefits have 2 levels of pay, depending on your capacity for work. Those who are deemed fully incapable of work get full pay, and those who can work part time, or in a select few low impact workplaces get half pay.

The new system would require everyone no matter where they lay on that scale to find employment. For the thousands, if not millions of people that have been declared fully incapable of work, this means bending over backwards for an impossible task.

And the pay cut for those who "refuse" to comply (which in reality is the vast majority being completely unable to comply to impossible demands) is not an insignificant amount.

That is a payment reduction of over half of what that person currently recieves. An amount that already is barely sufficient to survive on.

Being disabled is inherently expensive, be it due to needing specialized equipment, specific transport needs or even specific needs in general day-to-day living.

This is not a scheme to help the current system which is admittedly underfunded. This is a system designed to force disabled people to sacrifice themselves for an unsustainable system, or die trying.

And believe me, there will be death.

This is a deliberate target of some of the most vulnerable people in our society.

This is not "toughing through the hard times for the good of the country"

This is a slaughter.

people vaguely saying 'the horrors' as shorthand for 'life problems, don't worry about it' in conversations where the problems are not going to be delved into has got to be one of my favorite new Ways Of Speaking that has emerged. like it's polite and vague and succinct enough for impersonal conversation but also extremely honest. it's very funny. The Horrors. we all know of them.

Back when I thought my mom loved me, when I was very very small, I remember she would call me "dearheart" like I was the dearest thing to her heart. I barely remember it. It's my only memory of my mother that feels anything close to love. It's not tied to a place or time or specific event, it's barely a memory at all, just the feeling of smallness and trust and love.

It makes me hate her more.

My mom likes to tell people that she "doesn't understand" why I don't want to speak to her even though she "gave me so many things."

You paid for those things with my body, mom. Fuck you. Fuck the things.