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trans-axolotl · 6 days

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content note: discussion of suicide.

this next monday will be the six year anniversary of losing one of my friends to suicide.

when he died, my high school barely mentioned his death, even though for other students who died by things like car crashes or illness, there were so many public expressions of grief. they believed that having any memorials for a student who died by suicide would encourage other people to die the same way. in their rush to erase the circumstances of his death, they erased the memory of his life.

there are so many things i am angry at that high school about in terms of how they treated mental health (mandatory reporting and collaborating with cops, their refusal to recognize the ways in which that system led to peer-to-peer crisis support, their refusal to recognize the ways that trying to keep each other alive through trial and error was scary and exhausting, carceral disciplinary policies, etc etc etc). but i think one of the things i am still angriest about is the way they enforced shame around his death. it felt like they were retroactively blaming him for the constellation of circumstances that made suicide an option in his life. it felt like they were blaming those of us who missed him and cared about him and wanted to grieve him. it made those of us still there who were actively suicidal feel even more scared about the reaction if we did reach out for help from one of those mythical safe adults.

as an adult now involved in psych abolition/mad liberation work, it makes me so fucking mad to see the ways in which he was discarded by people in authority positions. and the older i get, the more options i have found in my life for making sense of the world and finding healing and community and support which were never available to him because he died when he was 16 and the only things offered to him were a carceral psychiatric system that blamed him for his own fucking death. it feels so incredibly unfair.

i miss him and i think i always will; i can't remember his laugh or the sound of his voice or his favorite color any more and that aches. this grief is so heavy and it feels harder in a new way each year, when i become older than he will ever be. sometimes meeting new comrades or seeing new anticarceral suicide support models hurts because i wish so fucking bad that we had that back then. i remember how close we came to losing even more people that year and i know it is simple fucking luck that i'm still here when he's not.

i remember another letter (never sent) that i wrote to a friend while they were in an ICU bed after a suicide attempt when i didn't know if they would live or not. i have spent so much time in the past 10 years begging for anything to keep me and my friends alive, but even in that letter i knew that there is so much fucking violence that is hidden beneath psychiatric logics of cure and safety that promise a "solution" to suicide. I knew that institutionalization, coercion, and shame would not have helped build a life more liveable for him or **** or any of the people i've loved and lost since.

there needs to be more fucking options for care and support that aren't so incredibly cruel to suicidal people. i know so many people doing incredible work in alternatives, peer respite, a million different frameworks for healing and liberation. but it makes me so mad every day i have to live in a world where there are still people restrained, locked up in psych wards, having all autonomy and personhood taken away from them. knowing there are dozens of people every day getting blamed for their deaths the same way he was blamed for his.

i miss him. i cared so fucking much for him. and he died by suicide, and all of those things are true. he has been dead for 6 years and he lived before that and the people who loved him want to remember all of him; our celebrations of his life should not require hiding the way that he died.

Image description: [1000 origami cranes in all different colors and patterns that are tied together in strings of 25]

(these were the 1000 cranes we made to give to his parents, in memorial and recognition of how much he meant to us.)

#personal #suicide tw #suicide mention tw #psych abuse tw #psych ward tw #ok to reblog if u want #psych abolition #mad liberation #psych survivor #it's a lot of grief hours over here and will be for a while all week i think #lots of grief so many ways this year for so many people #but this week. his memory . my grief for him #is hitting especially hard. i think partially because of all the transitions in my life. i'm graduating college. he will never become an ad #adult.#i think i might ask my roommates if they will go do something to remember him with me. maybe making origami cranes and sending them off in #the river. or writing things down and burning them #idk. grief is hard #six years in grief is different. but hard

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notaplaceofhonour · 2 months

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I was raised in the People of Destiny cult (later renamed, and more well-known as, Sovereign Grace Ministries, now Sovereign Grace Churches).

The valorization of martyrdom and The End Times was so ubiquitous it was ambient noise. We stood in the church lobby theorizing about who the antichrist would be, we argued about whether Jesus would rapture us all before, after, or during the Tribulation Period where Satan would be given free reign over the earth. There was a strong Christian Zionist fixation on Israel as the final battleground and capital of the coming Messianic Age. But the one thing we were all certain of was is that we were in the End Times, that we were not of this world and couldn’t get too attached to our lives here.

We were raised to believe our sin nature made us undeserving of life, that we deserved death and eternal conscious torture.

My parents read us the Jesus Freaks books (a series by Christian Rap group DC Talk about martyrs). I spent “devotional time” reading Fox’s Book of Martyrs. We had guest speakers from Voice of the Martyrs, their pamphlets were often stocked in our church’s information center. We grew up with our dad listening to right wing talk radio and making us listen to songs about how the Godless atheists were outlawing Christianity in America, that we could all become martyrs soon.

The group’s theology was damaging & traumatic in a lot of other ways that contributed to the suicidality I have continued to struggle with for the rest of my life. For a long time I did not believe I would live past 20. There are times when the idea of giving my death meaning by using public suicide to make a political statement has appealed to me.

So now, seeing so many social media posts glorifying the suicide of a US Airman this week, I have been furious. Reading his social media posts, I recognize so much about the way I was raised in his all-or-nothing, black-or-white mindset, the valorization of death-seeking & martyrdom, and the apocalyptic fire-and-brimstone imagery of self-immolation. The moment I saw people I followed celebrating his self-immolation, I said to myself “this feels like a cult”

So when I learned he was raised in a cult too, nothing could have made more sense to me. His political orientation may have changed, but his mindset did not—it was no less extreme or cult-like.

I’ve talked about so many of the reasons this response from the broader left scares me, including how it’s laundering that airman’s antisemitic beliefs, but I cannot think of anything that would hit me in a more personal place than this specific response to this specific situation has.

When I see the images, I think: that could have been me. That scares me, and what scares me more is that so many prominent people are overwhelmingly sending the message to people like me that there is nothing else we can do that would have a more meaningful impact than killing ourselves for the cause.

I do not believe that. I will not even entertain it. And having to see his death over and over and over again, to argue against people who are treating this like an intellectual/moral exercise or a valid debate we all have to consider has been immensely triggering and fills me with a rage I rarely feel. It’s unconscionable that we are even putting self-harm on the table, and that pushing back against that is somehow controversial.

There is hope. Our lives do have meaning. There are far more effective means of fighting injustice. And the world is a better place for having you in it. Don’t fall into believing this is a way to give life purpose.

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calkestis · 3 months

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CAL KESTIS | TRILLA SUDURI Star Wars Jedi: Survivor (2023) Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order (2019)

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wheelie-sick · 2 months

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this is going to be a long post, it's kinda just me writing all my raw unfiltered thoughts on ABA therapy as someone who actually went through it

-> TW for ABA therapy, child abuse, suicide <-

I was functionally diagnosed with autism at the age of 3 but it wasn't until I was 13 that I was actually formally evaluated for it and given an official diagnosis. I was behind in social skills and developmental skills

[ID: "was also described as a sensory seeker. She does not currently have any friends and has struggled to make and maintain peer relationships throughout her childhood. Difficulties with social skills were initially noted when she was in preschool (years before the onset of clinically significant symptoms of anxiety and"]

[ID: "Social functions: [blank]'s mother also completed a questionnaire rating her social responsiveness. Her responses on the SRS-2 indicated that [blank] is demonstrating severe deficits in the areas of Social Communication (reciprocal social interaction and nonverbal and verbal communication), Social Motivation (motivation to engage in social-interpersonal behavior) and Social Awareness (perceiving social cues) and moderate deficits in the areas of Social Cognition (understanding social cues). Severe Repetitive and Restrictive Behaviors (stereotypical behaviors or highly restricted interests) were also reported. The total T-score on the SRS-2 indicates severe deficiencies in reciprocal behavior that are likely to result in interference in everyday social interaction"]

[ID: "%ile) are mildly impaired, while her social skills are moderately impaired (2nd %ile). By domain, demonstrates mildly to moderately impaired abilities in six adaptive skills areas, including self care (9th %ile), communication (5th %ile), home living (5th %ile), self-direction (2nd %ile), social (2nd %ile), and leisure (1st %ile)"]

and ultimately all this ended up with the number one recommendation after my autism evaluation being for ABA therapy.

[ID: "Recommendations: Based on the above results, the following recommendations are made for [blank] and her family.

1. ABA therapy: [blank] May benefit from an intensive treatment program to foster cognitive and communication skills, improve independence and adaptive functioning, and help manage interfering behaviors (i.e home-based, 1:1 instruction, task analysis, etc.) Most private and community programs are based on principals of operant conditioning and taught in home with 1:1 instruction"]

*I'm getting misgendered here. my pronouns are he/him

"operant conditioning"-- like a dog 🐕🐕. woof woof.

my mom didn't know any better so she put me in ABA therapy with the Center for Autism and Related Disorders. she regrets this. I regret this more.

my autism evaluation was cruel, it dissected all my flaws as if I was a bug under a microscope in a highschool laboratory. my evaluation was passed around to ABA therapists, a line of high schoolers peering through the microscope examining the most vulnerable parts of me.

and I choose the highschool analogy quite deliberately. most of the ABA therapists at my center were recent highschool graduates with no degree and little training. they knew nothing about autism and had no qualifications. you need more certificates to become a professional dog trainer than to become a professional human trainer.

"operant conditioning"

and I wish I could say it was just a poor choice of words but ABA therapy was dog training for children. my dad used to call me an "it" and somehow I felt less dehumanized by that than the entire experience I had in ABA therapy.

I was the oldest person at my center (I did not receive in home therapy) with the next oldest being approximately 3 years younger than me. at the time I felt babied. I was surrounded by 5 year olds and I was treated as if I was not just a 5 year old but an autistic 5 year old and anyone who has been a visibly autistic 5 year old knows what that feels like. I had escaped being an autistic child and now I was being treated like one again. The head of the program tried to console me by telling me adults received their services too.

[ID: "Following the principles of applied behavior analysis, CARD has developed a treatment approach for children and adolescents with"]

this was the first lie they told me. CARD does not work with adults.

I was not allowed the privileges of being a 13 year old. because I was an autistic 13 year old and therefore I was the equivalent of a 5 year old. I was in psychotherapy at the same time and I had grown very accustomed to some level of freedom in therapy. I was allowed to use the bathroom independently. in ABA therapy I was not allowed to use the bathroom independently. I tried once, me and my therapist were on an "outing" to the grocery store and I told my therapist I was going to the bathroom and walked off and I got a very stern talking to about how I needed to "stop eloping" and if I didn't stop it would "become a behavior"

eloping became a common theme used to control me and squeeze money out of my parents.

out of everything I hated in my life, including severe physical abuse at home (which they did not report), I hated ABA therapy the most. I would repeatedly make serious threats of suicide to try to get out of ABA. no one cared. everyone thought I was being dramatic but there were times I wrote out suicide notes and ABA was among the reasons I listed. ABA made me feel hopeless, depressed, revolting, disgusting, inferior, and less than human. between ABA, my home life, and my social life I had never felt so hated and it was boiling through my skin. I acted out, I was bullying people, I was behaving recklessly, I was starting fights, and all this only made the oppressive force of ABA crack down on me harder. I was a cat hissing in the corner begging to be left alone and ABA brought a net to try to tame me further. every time I scratched back it was listed as a reason I needed to be there.

I was "disruptive" and "rebellious" and "uncooperative" and "resistant to treatment" and no one could figure out why I was "regressing" despite me shouting the answer. I was screaming and no one was willing to hear me

I hated myself and my autism. my autism diagnosis made me want to die. I didn't feel freed by it or understood I felt ashamed and disgusted. I felt incompetent and like I had failed. I was ashamed to be at ABA, it was my biggest secret. I'd lie to my friends about why I couldn't hang out and I'd lie to people in public about who the woman I was with was and I'd lie about all of it to try to cover up my most shameful secret.

ABA therapy did nothing but foster this. In ABA therapy I was mocked for being autistic and what was happening only clicked when a young kid, maybe only 4 or 5, was flapping his hands and a therapist took out her phone and recorded him. we were circus animals. it was all an entertaining show to them while they poked and prodded at us with metaphorical hot irons to make us dance. the first time a therapist laughed at me for rocking back and forth I wanted to throw up. I almost did. it was systematic bullying of children I was forced to watch and experience.

my point is: the last place on earth I wanted to be was the ABA center.

so of course I tried to leave. my mom would bring me McDonald's and I'd beg, sobbing real tears, to leave early because only she could sign me out. every time I'd go to meet her I'd be marked as "eloping" and my hotel stay in hell would get extended.

my natural response to a stressful environment (leaving) was pathologized. I was eloping this way and that way and never once did I actually, truly elope. that word was a weapon used against me. they used my "elopement" to justify extending my stay to my parents. they ate it right up.

they argued I needed to stay there because I was making friends. this was true, I'm great at getting along with children it's part of why I want to go into pediatrics, but I had also made real friends with people my age at my highschool. ABA was getting in the way. I wanted to spend time with my friends outside of school but ABA took up all my time from the minute I left school to 6pm and all day on weekends. I was doing a full time job's worth of hours. I complained about how I was missing out on spending time with my real friends (as in, over the age of 7) and I was met with almost no wiggle room in my schedule. I was allowed to pre-plan time to spend with friends but every time my friend group wanted to do something spontaneously? I had to say no, and I had to lie about why. my friends would share stories about driving around town with 2 people in the group stuffed in the trunk, of hanging out in the woods together, of taking part in ordinary highschool activities as ordinary high schoolers and it made me cry because I was not an ordinary highschooler and I was not allowed to participate in ordinary highschool activities. I was one of those weird, unpleasant, socially awkward autistic people instead. eventually, they just stopped inviting me. I was forced into the out group by ABA.

I'll never get that back. I'll never get a chance to be a normal highschooler ever again.

when I did have time available to hang out with people I never had the energy to. at the time I was living with an undiagnosed physical disability and I was begging to see a doctor but no one would believe that it wasn't just anxiety. the people who believed me least of all were the people at the center.

I was constantly told I was trying to get out of therapy by "feigning" very real pain and fatigue. I tried to explain spoon theory, and that I had limited spoons, and in response they made a task for me to name things to "regenerate spoons" that's not how it works. I wasn't the only physically disabled person there. there was a wheelchair user who was constantly forced to stand for periods of time despite being in agony doing it. he wasn't allowed rewards until he did it.

rewards were used to train us like dog treats are used with dogs. sometimes the treats were fun! I'd get to cook, play Mario kart, and go on outings. other times the treats were "using the correct name and pronouns for me." I'd constantly be threatened with deadnaming and misgendering if I was being "noncompliant."

misgendering because of my autism was a theme in my life. my neuropsych evaluation report misgendered me. my parents misgendered me. the staff at ABA misgendered me. at one point the head of the program suggested that my "gender confusion" was because of my autism. my abusive father latched onto this and still claims that the reason I'm "confused" about my gender is because the evil transgenders tricked me into thinking I'm one of them because I'm autistic and therefore easily impressionable.

the two therapists I had were nice because I refused to work with the others. they weren't on a power trip and both eventually left because they realized the harm the organization was doing. other therapists were not so kind. other therapists were on a power trip, because in their mind lording over autistic 5 year olds (and autistic 14 year olds) makes them powerful and strong. occasionally I'd get stuck with one of the other therapists when my usual therapists were out. they would talk to me in a baby voice. they would make fun of me for rocking back and forth, for not making eye contact, for talking about Skyrim "too much" and generally just for being autistic.

I never really knew what I was supposed to be doing, just that I was doing it wrong. the therapists there rarely actually told me what my tasks were they'd just mark yes or no on them, judging me for something I wasn't aware of. I was never actually supposed to graduate, I was never supposed to get out, if they wanted me to succeed they would have taught and explained what was happening but I was intentionally left in the dark.

I continued threatening suicide to get out. no one took me seriously. I was seriously considering it. there's no happy conclusion where someone finally realized it was all wrong, or I figured out how to be allistic and graduated, or I felt more comfortable there. I only got out when covid struck and shut the center down. it's gone now, replaced by a family advice center. I hope their advice for autistic children is to never put them in ABA.

there is no grander message here just suffering. I'm sorry if you were expecting some sort of great point at the end of this. there's not one. it happened, I wish it didn't, and I hope no one else experiences what I did ever again.

okay to reblog

#actually autistic #actuallyautistic #neurodivergent #aba therapy #aba survivor #tw aba therapy #tw child abuse #tw suicide #ok to rb

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disabledunitypunk · 6 months

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I am once again thinking about the term "suicide survivors". How it's a term that rightfully belongs to those that lived through a suicide attempt, that literally survived suicide. How instead it means those that lived through someone else's death. How it neans "surviving" in only the archaic use 'survived by" used in obituaries. How suicide "survivors" lived through something that was never going to kill them, that was never even a threat to their life.

How we are only ever a footnote in the stories of others. We're a tragedy that happens to people, a cautionary tale if we die and inspiration porn if we live. How, forever long we do live, we were suicidal, past tense, because it makes people too uncomfortable too acknowledge that suicidality is chronic (whether pathological or environmental).

How everyone wants to do suicide prevention but no one wants to acknowledge the people at the center of it. How it's never actually about our needs - or even about our safety, really. It doesn't matter what trauma or pain we must endure - they'll have us live if it kills us. Never mind social programs to give us housing, food, security, to make us want to live - it's our responsibility to find someone to tell us it's all in our heads and we need meds to fix us, because it's CRAZY to want to die. Make sure the hotlines can all call the cops if we don't comply.

Don't we know how selfish it is to want to not be in pain and be so desperate that we're willing to die for it? Don't we know how selfish it is to not have any access to the things we need to survive? Don't we know that suicidal depression is really our duty to get over, because obviously if we don't take meds that don't work or that make us sick, if we don't submit to medical gaslighting, if we don't "try" to recover, it's not like it's an illness or a disability! It's selfishness, a character flaw.

Don't we know that we're the selfish ones, when they make our struggling, our illness, our deaths, about us and not them?

It's sanism at its most basic. We're not reliable narrators of our own experiences. We're not the main characters of even our own stories. We're there to be a single pretty tear rolling down the cheek of our loved ones. We're tragedy-as-an-object, as an object lesson. "Make sure you pick yourself up by your bootstraps seek help so you don't become an inconvenience for us hurt your loved ones." Even STILL the focus is not on the harm done to yourself, except as a moral failure in that it harms the healthy people around you.

Quite frankly, I'm sick of it. I don't ever want someone to call themselves a "suicide survivor" again who means it not as "I've survived BEING suicidal" but as "I lived through someone else being in so much pain that they took their own life over it". Not when there still exist people that have survived attempts or are actively suicidal. This is our narrative, not one for you to center yourselves in.

I will not go so far as to say your grief is selfish. That would be cruel. But your grief IS about someone else. This is still THEIR story.

It is likewise the same pain, the same trauma, and the same ableism and sanism we face over it, for those of us who have actually survived it, more than it is that of those who have never stood on that edge. It is the same decentering of our own stories when we go through the exact same thing.

It is the same surviving another day of being suicidal, another attempt, and hearing people who have either never been suicidal or simply are not talking about their own survivorship of suicidality, have the audacity to call themselves survivors of something that they never survived. To take something that KILLED someone they love and claim to be survivors of it.

Cancer survivors had cancer. Automobile collision survivors were in collisions. Survivors of critical illnesses or disabling/severe injuries lived through those illnesses or injuries affecting THEIR lives. But suddenly when a deadly chronic illness kills someone, in this one case, the survivors are the ones who watched someone die of it?

Nah. This isn't a mass threat like a shooting or a pandemic, where your life was ever in danger. You're not the survivor. Your grief is valid, and there absolutely needs to be times and places where being a GRIEF survivor is centered, where your healing and well-being is focused on.

But let those of us who we so sick we nearly died for it, or DID die from it, be the center of THAT story.

Dead men tell no tales, so at least have the grace to let the echoes of our voices remain, unspoken over. And for gods' sakes, remember that there are people that DID make it through alive, that we're still talking, that our voices are most important in a conversation about OUR potentially deadly illnesses.

We're still here telling our own tales.

#cw suicide #suicide #suicide survivor #sanism #ableism #psychiatric neglect #psychiatric abuse #anti psych #anti psychiatry #forced recovery

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fitzrove · 3 months

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Thomas Borchert and Lukas Perman performing Mayerling (Elisabeth das Musical, 2004 Trieste concert edition)

#elisabeth das musical #musicals #theatre #lukas perman #thomas borchert #ummm yeah................#ajdfjgsodfghi that was MOUTH TO MOUTH NO SURVIVORS #kronprinz rudolf #der tod #my gifs #tw suicide

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theecrybaby · 8 months

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Football season has started again

Which statistically means it also the season of domestic violence cases being on the rise.

Please know it is not your fault, he will not change, you need to get out!

Here are some resources:

National Domestic Violence Hotline -

Call: 800-799-7233

Text: START to 88788

Hours: 24/7. Languages: English, Spanish and 200+ through interpretation service

National Suicide Prevention Hotline -

Call: 988

Text: HOME to 771771

24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones

Please boost and share because you never know who it could help or if you could be the one to need help

Stay safe ❤️

#boost #suicide prevention #resources #mental health #domestic abuse #domestic violence #abuse survivor #survivor #signal boost #share

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mayasaura · 1 year

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I am never going to forgive Cristabel for what she did to Mercymorn. Inflicted on her the same "cruellest thing anyone has ever done to you" that Gideon did on Harrow, but without the same pressures. No one was banging down the door threatening to kill them both. She didn't have to choose between watching Mercy die and dying for her. When Cristabel violently manipulated Mercy into lyctorhood, she did it with fore-thought. She planned it. Fuck her.

#cristabel oct #mercymorn the first #the locked tomb #harrow the ninth #she made a PACT with Alfred #she planned ahead #so fuck that #suicide cw #suicide tw #cw suicide #tw suicide #survivors guilt cw

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lazykebabvagina · 4 months

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So... I'm entering 2024 alive. Who would've thought

#mental illness #suicide attempt survivor #survivor #depression #mental health #autism #mental health matters #proud of me #recovery #it gets better #positivity #2024 #2023

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spaceshipsandpurpledrank · 1 month

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#talkin #tik tok #debra Wilson #jedi fallen order #jedi survivor #suicide squad kill the justice league #amanda waller

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neuroticboyfriend · 1 year

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massive trigger warning for abuse/suicide on this one, but for anyone who thinks psych wards are about protecting people:

1. my friend was trying to choke herself. i begged the staff to help her, and they said she was only looking for attention. minutes later, they call a code, wrangled her to the ground, and forcibly sedated her.

2. a girl was upset because she couldnt call her dad past a certain time. she started screaming, and crying, messing up the front desk. 8 security guards took her down. they broke her arm and sprained her wrist.

3. i came back to my unit in shambles because the staff on hand did nothing to stop a fight. i had to remedy the situation myself. things like this happened often.

4. i was having a trauma meltdown during "quiet time." the youngest patient tried to comfort me, and staff told her to stop and go back to her room because i was "a big girl who can handle herself." i was an out trans guy. the staff member didnt speak to me at all.

5. they separate roommates if they become friends. but they put me and my friend together for the sole purpose of putting us on constant observation together. we had zero privacy, even in the bathroom (which they took the door off of). at state, if you're on C.O, they take away your clothes, possessions, and "privileges."

6. im a CSA survivor. i was forced to regularly occupy the same space as a rapist, no matter how many flashbacks it caused me. they even roomed him next to me.

7. i am intersex. at state, doctors forced me onto an anti-androgen. i refused at first; they labeled me noncompliant, extended my stay, and took away my "privileges" (ex: snacks, going outside, doing fun activities, socializing).

8. they left my friend in a padded room strapped to a table for hours. they then let her off the table and left her in the padded room overnight. she had to wait hours in the morning to be let out.

9. at state, kids have to choose between being forcibly injected with a sedative, or being locked in a padded room if deemed "necessary." your parents have to sign away most of their parental rights, and if they want to sign you out, they need to go to court. for months. the state owns you.

we were all children. none of what i said is a "bad apples" situation. things like this happened every. single. day. it happened at multiple hospitals. these places are made to control mentally ill and other marginalized people. they exist to abuse us into conformity, take away our autonomy, and keep us away from polite society. psych wards should not exist.

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pyromaniacblujay · 2 months

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screenshots from my definitely totally very real visual novel

art by itself under the cut

#the binding of isaac #survivor judas #survivor bethany #survivor keeper #my drawings #cw suicide #tboi survivor fathoms au

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pensive-starling · 1 month

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#black swan #girl interrupted #girlblogging #lolita #aesthetic #sa survivor #mental illness #mental health #actually mentally ill #virgin suicides #lost in translation #csa survivor

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iamgodsoopsie · 3 months

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Astarion Headcanons (that you probably won't like) Pt. 3:

Part 1 link

Part 2 link

More Astarion headcanons that are mostly me projecting onto a fictional character to help me process my own trauma!

BG3 does an excellent job at depicting SA trauma and the beginning of the healing process/journey. Many of the headcanons I've seen floating around (intentionally or unintentionally) gloss over the uglier side of healing from (prolonged) trauma. I'm not judging anyone for magically healing him, he's fictional after all, but I'd like to make some more ...realistic... headcanons.

Disclaimer: Everyone's healing process looks different, but they tend share commonalities. These headcanons are based on my own experiences. Not everyone who is healing from their trauma will experience what I have or have experienced it like I have.

[Please don't message me with explicit details about your trauma. I am at the point in my healing journey where I can share my experiences, and commiserate with other's similar experiences, but I am unable to support others in a more personal manner at this time. I wish you the best of luck in your healing process/ journey.]

Spoiler warning

Mental illness, SA, & SH (suicidal ideation) Trigger Warnings: More descriptive and potentially triggering than part 1, but about equal to part 2.

These headcanons are based on an Astarion who is still a spawn and romantically involved with a Tav who honestly loves him and isn't abusive or manipulative. Also Cazador is dead and Astarion got to stab him. They also assume that he himself does not turn into Cazador 2.0 or wish.com Cazador.

Have things been going well for awhile? Is he reclaiming his sexuality at an exponential rate? Does he think he's practically conquered his trauma?

-> If you said 'Yes' to any of the questions above, then be ready for: A trigger he didn't know he had hitting him out of no where and setting his mental health on fire.

->-> If he's at a place in his healing journey that he is able to recognize what happening and use his healthy coping tools/ honest communication to process his unexpected emotional (maybe literal) flashback then it'll be a not fun time for him, but he'll get through it fairly quickly with minimal mental damage.

->->-> If this happens closer to the beginning of his healing journey then be ready for him to spiral and catastrophize. He'll insist that he'll never truly be free of Cazador, that he's broken, that he isn't allowed to be happy, etc. All you can really do during this time is be there for him. Reassure him that you love him and that you believe that he will get better.

->↑ This is a normal part of the healing process, it's shitty and God-awful- but it gets easier to manage and happens less frequently over time.

Even if he weren't an immortal vampire he's still a high-elf and will probably outlive you. And boy oh boy the pressure he's going to put himself under to hurry up and heal is going to be immense AND counterproductive!

-> Poor bby is terrified that he'll finally be happy only for it to be ripped away from him.

->-> Him rushing his healing will only make it harder for him to heal, and he knows this. But Gods damn it all he can't seem to shake the feeling that he's running out of time (okay Hamilton).

->->-> I gotta be honest, I have no fucking clue how to help him with this. I suppose that the only thing you can do is love him with the time ya'll have.

->->->-> TBH I can see him deciding that he'll KHS when you die. I know you have the best intentions, but asking him to live for you after your gone will (probably) be perceived as very manipulative.

->↑ I honestly don't think ya'll are going to come to an agreement on this if you're vehemently against the notion. It may be best to make your preference known and then leave the topic alone- as pressing it will only cause him to double down. (After 200 years of not being allowed to make any decisions for himself, he's not going to let anyone tell him how to 'live' or die).

Surviving "200 years of shit, PURE. SHIT!" had to have been exhausting. And healing from trauma is exhausting. All Astarion wants to do is rest but he feels that he can't truly rest until he heals from his trauma and he's so damn tired and has to keep dealing with this shit and he really wants to give up somedays but he'll be damned if he lets Cazador 'win'.

->↑ Healing is hard work. But it is so damn worth it.

I'll go back and edit any grammar and spelling mistakes later, but I'd really like to post this now.

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