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#traumatic memories
b0bthebuilder35 · 2 years
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THIS 👏🏻IS 👏🏻NOT 👏🏻OK👏🏻
Children should not have to live like this!
Where are the parents protesting masks in school because it would traumatize their children? Is THIS not a trauma inducing practice?!
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ashersskye · 2 months
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You're not lazy, you're depressed. If you were lazy then you would still be able to get up and do the things that needed to be done. The fact that you can't move at all is actually something called "freeze response" and it is a part of your nervous system fight/flight/freeze/fawn. This means your body does not feel safe enough to move. You are literally "frozen" in fear. Let's stop telling people they are lazy for this and start recognizing it for what it is- survival.
Want tips for breaking freeze response? Check out my blog. Happy healing 😊
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It is normal not to be able to recall your trauma. Your memories may be foggy, disorganized, inaccessible, or blank. You are not wrong, you are not dramatic, you are not dishonest. The mind is very powerful, and it will take measures to protect us for fear and harm even if we don’t choose to. Take the time you need to heal what you can feel even if you cannot name it.
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needfantasticstories · 2 months
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Day 1: Helpless
TW: divine possession, slight body horror, traumatic flashbacks
Characters: Sun (Linked Universe), Hylia (The Legend of Zelda)
Divine Disturbance
(Connects to Hidden Heroes)
Zelda lay in bed in her Knight’s Academy dorm, her eyes refusing to stay closed. She stroked the remlit curled at her side and stared at the rafters obscured in shadows above. Only a patch of waning moonlight from the window, pale and ghostly, outlined her room. 
She scratched gently behind the remlit’s floppy ear, smiling despite a twinge of jealousy at its easy rest. She knew, from seventeen years of existing as a mortal girl, that she needed sleep. It would heal her body from the day spent sparring, studying, and running around the islands as a representative of the village council. She needed the rest, but the divine within her resented it.
DO NOT LOSE A MOMENT! ARISE! 
Not again… Hylia, we’re mortal now. We need to rest. Like in the crystal, Zelda thought to her former self, to the enormous ghost that lingered within her. The goddess seemed to grow more persistent every day. She dragged Zelda’s thoughts and emotions into another life at the smallest hints of her old one. A breath of mint or rosemary might send her dancing as she had in courts of old before her feet realized they were moving. It was rather embarrassing during lunch in the dining hall, but luckily Link and Groose began to clap along, causing Pipit and Karane and Fletch to tap their feet somewhat hesitantly too, and by the time Zelda became fully aware of her presence at breakfast and not the leading a Royal Ball, her friends had appeased the questioning stares with generous laughter, as if it was all a joke they had planned. Link bowed and led her to her history tutor before anyone could ask for an explanation,  so it faded into another silly story the others would sometimes joke about at gatherings. Silly, spontaneous Zelda. She did not appreciate the changes in her reputation. She’d rather remain known as “level-headed” and “determined,” especially as an aspiring member of the Council.
She didn’t mind the changes brought on by the goddess’ knowledge when she finally beat both Link and Captain Eagus at sparring, to everyone’s surprise. Link guessed rightly that the goddess had something to do with it, and he’d beamed at her when she’d confirmed his theory in private. His eyes, so proud and trusting and full of admiration, made her heart ache. Who did he love, really? 
More recently, a simple tune hummed by Peatrice as she passed on the road had sent Zelda’s mind into a panic, racing to the edge to leap after her hero. The Song of Mourning, she knew all of the sudden, the last she’d sung after… he’s struggling down there all alone and DEAD DEAD DEAD! She’d raced to the skydock and leapt, desperate to find him in the clouds, ready to soar on her own wings, blade at the ready to face Demise and stop him but knowing it was already too late. 
Luckily, she’d come to herself as the wind whipped her shawl over her eyes. She’d resheathed her sword and called her loftwing, Indigo, to catch her before plunging into the cloud barrier where no loftwing could follow. 
She grew afraid of the goddess, for the first time, and prayed to her past self that it would not happen again. The power had hummed like an earthquake inside her, and she hoped it understood.
Most of the time, if she could manage to close herself from the tides of emotions, she could get by. She could act normal. After all, how could she explain?
Gondo would present the council with the newest set of repaired robots and explain about the wonder of wires and circuits, and she could pretend she didn’t remember how to infuse a consciousness within a machine with just the right spell, if only she could access Hylia’s magic at will. It would mean nothing to them. 
When Link would wonder about his predecessor, how could she spoil his day by expressing the overwhelming love she felt for a man a thousand years in his grave, a stranger to them both, while feeling that same love for the young man at her side, as if they were the same? How could she explain that she would always see their faces overlapping? 
When she’d burst into tears of joy at finding a large seed on the Surface, how could she explain the faint memories of Deku trees planted and nurtured in places she knew by heart but would never find again? She wasn’t even sure if they came before her era, or after. How could she explain so much with so little?   
She couldn't, so she didn’t. 
Instead, she found ways to explain away the strange, divine impulses as excitement, silly curiosity, a flight of fancy, or beginner’s luck. 
Link. Groose. Father. They knew she was the goddess’s mortal form, but they would never understand. So she bore the goddess alone.  
Fear swelled in deep corners of her mind. Trapped. Small. Constricted. Her head stung from the pressure of condensed sunlight burning, burning, burning within it. The Sacred Springs had been excruciating but short-lived, and the Goddess had settled quickly after each cleansing,  even if the goddess’s commands frustrated Zelda long after. Now, she was a mouse that had swallowed a dragon, a divine beast of dazzling power, perpetually in motion and raging, and Zelda was about to crack at any moment. Her heart beat like a drum against her ribs. Delicate webs of nerves danced and screamed at every turn of the divine mind as it struggled to comprehend this new world through the bars of a tiny mortal prison. 
Sensing the danger, the power began to ease: hot but no longer blazing; pounding, but no longer bursting. 
Zelda gasped, able to move on her own once more. She rolled out of her smothering, feather-filled blanket and settled flat on her back, letting the night air cool her. One hand buried in the fur of the fluffy animal still sleeping beside her and another hand pressed against her own chest, as the thud thud thud of two mismatched hearts reverberated in her palms. At last, her own thundering cacophony began to steady and slow. She breathed in and out, measuring each breath evenly. 
I am still me. I am the same Zelda. Just…changed…  
She addressed her thoughts to the divine ghost within. I need to sleep, Dear Hylia.
DEITIES DO NOT SLEEP. 
The declaration wrenched her eyes open. She startled so sharply that her little remlit companions yowled, shot out of the nest of blankets, then scrambled under the bed. 
Zelda sighed, and wiped sweat from her brow as her heartbeat picked up again. She longed to agree with the goddess. So often, sleep brought breathtaking, confusing, or nightmarish memories that left her heart longing or broken, her eyes red and swollen from weeping from the memory of loss and failure and a world nearly destroyed. Beneath it all an ocean of rage and regret: THEY ARE DEAD! THEY ARE HURTING! THEY ARE LOST! HE IS DEAD, HE IS DEAD, HE IS DEAD! HOW CAN A GODDESS OF TIME BE LATE? CELESTIAL MOTHERS, HOW DID I FAIL HIM?  
The goddess supplied herself a furious answer, the waves of rage swelling, and it set Zelda’s heart racing again. I TOLERATED AND IGNORED DEMISE FOR TOO LONG. I COMMANDED THE HERO TO FIGHT BEFORE HE WAS READY. I FEARED MY SHADOW, AND MADE HIM FACE IT IN MY STEAD. 
Please, stop! Quiet quiet quiet! Zelda begged the divine as it threatened to drown her. What mortal could bear such rage? Such despair? Such love? Such hatred, all at once? There was nowhere for it to go, and she could not contain it.
She tried to turn aside, to cry into her pillow, but she couldn’t move. Helpless, she realized tonight was far different than other memories.  Vivid to the point of blindness, she saw a flash of light as the might of Fi’s power shot up to the sky, but her wielder needed her! NOW! Zelda…no, Hylia was falling, not soaring and barely controlled, yet still so far away from him, too weak to simply appear at his side. Tears streamed  NO! TOO LATE! This despair was no longer a swell, but an electric shock. Zelda seized up at the sight of those dead-white eyes on the hero’s beautiful, serene face, and when the vision closed at last she gasped and curled tightly on herself. She had sensed every vein and sinew in the man’s body, and in what order they stopped functioning. No one should know so much about the death of another, nor should she so love a stranger, no matter how like her own Link he appeared. 
The self-loathing of a goddess was more than she could bear.
Zelda squeezed her eyes shut, and they shot open again. And again. And again. The visions crowded her room. She cried for the goddess’s hurt, for her frustration at mortal limits, for memories she did not want to see, for the goddess’s anger at being trapped as a mortal, and her own anger at being swallowed by the divine. But she could not move, her body completely in the hands of the goddess, and her grief was still rising higher. If she could, she’d have screamed in agony. 
 Link is not dead! Her usual first line of defense from these divine, dark thoughts seemed so small tonight, and made no difference. She tried again. He’s alive! Let me rest!  
Link is alright. He’s safe. You saved him! 
Zelda’s assurances pushed back as weak as a breath compared to the goddess’s tempest. Usually, it was enough to redirect the momentum toward happier thoughts, and then the goddess would grace her with more pleasant or helpful memories.  
Not tonight. Her assurances only seemed to exacerbate the goddess’s fury and terror.  More memories flooded her, new and unfamiliar. Knights swiping blades to cut her down, giant spiders crawling closer, pale dead hands reaching from the floor, and the silhouette of a man, his laughter cruel and grating, as he stood victorious over a dark shape on the floor. A crown glistened in the space between them, and— 
Please, let me sleep! she begged as another swell of jumbled images and sensations and feelings too complex to parse threatened to crash over her and sweep her away into oblivion. Her head throbbed and grew feverishly hot with the effort to keep herself in one piece as her mind pulled a thousand directions at once. Excruciating pain and exhaustion and the fierce will to live and the threat of death all wrapped in one overwhelming feeling. She was being consumed. 
WE ARE SAFE! She barely kept from screaming her thoughts out loud. THE WORLD IS SAFE! 
HE IS NOT SAFE! the storm shrieked back at her. THE WORLD IS NOT SAFE!
She knew that Link slept in the room almost below hers, just one off, and by this hour he would be snoring by now, safe and sound. Demise and his blade were dead. 
He’s here! It’s over! It’s done! There’s nothing more you can do! Haven't you done enough?  
The goddess’s wrath slowed, and the storm became a whispered song of hope at the thought Zelda had conjured of Link, safe and asleep. 
And then, nothing. The storm dissolved. She’d finally shut up. 
Only whisper’s of Indigo’s dreams remained, chasing skytails, mercifully free of the Goddess’s storms.  
Zelda drew a slow, deep breath as her palms lifted off her sweaty hair. Has it truly stopped? Her hands lingered by her ears, ready to resume the desperate hold on her aching head. But nothing disturbed her thoughts now, and her room was starkly quiet in the pallid moonlight. 
Zelda sighed in relief. At last, she could rest.  
She retrieved the down-filled blanket she’d kicked onto the floor. Autumn air chilled the night, and she tucked the blanket close around her, and wiped her brow with her sleeve. Ignoring the sweat drying on her skin, she basked in the quiet and calm. Her body relaxed, at its limit. Each night, for three nights, she’d wrestled with the Goddess, and she was done. 
Hylia, please be at peace, she prayed, hoping to keep the goddess appeased. It is over. Demise is gone. You saved everyone. Your hero is alive. 
Even without the goddess’s urging, she would always watch over Link. Not that many threats remained: a few monsters on the Surface they’d face together, nosy questions about their time on the surface, rude comments about his lightning scars. Not that he couldn’t deal with them on his own, but his state had been fragile the first month, and she still struggled not to hover. 
She owed him that much: from her failure as the goddess to her failure as a friend he’d trusted. At Hylia’s bidding, she’d thrown him into danger. The goddess had been only a blessing back then, and who was she to question divinity? She would not make that mistake again.
But Link had volunteered after he knew the truth, and he’d faced the demon that had hunted her and her people thousands of years ago. He was just a boy, barely seventeen, and he’d saved her and the world from the jaws of Demise. 
She owed him the world. And all he asked for was her friendship. Not her love, or her favor, but her company.  
Her mind grew heavy and thick, full of pleasant dreams: playing in a fairy fountain with tiny sisters, taking in the healing magic and soft glowing light.
Do not sleep, daughter of my soul. Take up my blade. Tear the monster asunder. Break him across the ages. More must be done. Finish it. 
The new thought jostled her awake. Zelda groaned, but paused. Something was different. The goddess felt calm and aware, like a remlit ready to pounce rather than a storm. Why had the idea come after she’d already felt her mind close to the deity only moments ago? 
Zelda sat up and moved to the window. Above Skyloft floated the silhouette of Sir Hawke, and she knew whoever had nightwatch with him flew below the islands, ready to catch anyone Sir Hawke might have missed.  
Nothing else stirred. Her head swam as she stood, protesting at being awake for two days and counting. Her joints felt like chu jelly, weakening while she stood. Is this long enough? Are you finally resting? 
Stillness followed. Optimistic, she returned to bed. 
Silence. Blessed silence.
Quietness settled over Zelda’s body again as she burrowed in downy covers. At last, she sighed in relief. Within seconds she lay on the brink of sleep.
A yell from downstairs shocked her upright. She recognized the tenor of that voice. 
Link.
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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months
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Omg, your response was so amazing and helpful 😭❤ Thank you for taking the time to really get into all that. 💞 It also seems to have kinda sparked a conversation arround it, which is awesome! 😁
And ohhhhh ya, the religious trauma and gilt are real 😳🙄
You mentioned you have more to say if we want to hear it? I, for one, would LOVE to hear anything else you have to say on the topic! ❤
-🫖
Hi hi hi 🫖 anon!!
{Let’s Talk Religious Guilt and Trauma}
I am so glad that my response—Let’s Talk Healthy Solo Sex— was helpful and informative for you!! Of course!!! I want to give every ask and every anon the time and respect that they deserve ♥️♥️ And yes, I love that it sparked more of a conversation!! I’m so proud of you for reaching out and starting these discussions, anon!!! 🥰
I most definitely have more to say on the topic. For one, you can check out Let’s Talk Penetrative Sex and Let’s Talk Trauma in Relationships, which both stemmed from our conversation! And then there’s this response, fyi it will be another longer one 😊
*sigh* Yes, religious guilt and trauma are most definitely real. And those of experiences and feelings are so valid. Trauma of any kind is no joke. If you have any religious trauma or trauma of any other kind, I highly recommend that you seek a professional’s help.
So… What is Religious Trauma and Guilt?
A general definition for Religious Trauma is… “Religious trauma can happen when an individual’s religious experience has been damaging, abusive, degrading, stressful, or traumatic. When a religious experience is traumatic, it can damage your emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual health”. Check out Cohesive Therapy NYC’s article on Religious Trauma for more detailed information! For an article that goes more into Religious Guilt, check out Considering Counseling’s article on Religious Trauma and Guilt…! ♥️
Religious trauma and guilt are especially tricky beasts… Many twisted religious teachings and persuasion is very cult like. (That’s not to say that all are, there are definitely less twisted, healthier religions and practices) But the ones that are rotten and manipulative, they dig deep into your core beliefs, especially if you’re a child, and they replace your identity with the identity of the religion/church/cult.
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So, how do you deal with religious trauma and guilt?
Firstly, as I said above, seek professional help (I recommend an EMDR specialist for trauma—EMDR is a type of therapy that works to restructure traumatic memories in your brain)
On your own accord, Processing, Accepting, and then Healing is the overall goal. Talking it out and processing your experience and feelings with a trusted person can be helpful for some. I find that talking to someone who has also had religious trauma or guilt to be even more helpful, because of how they can relate. Sometimes journaling/writing about it can be another helpful tool. The key is to find some way to express those emotions, to get them out of you.
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Personally, my own story is that I have both religious trauma and guilt, but I definitely struggle more with my religious trauma. I was raised in a Catholic school and an Interfaith-Christian household. We moved around a lot, and so I went to many Christian churches like Non-Denominational, Baptist, Presbyterian, Catholic, and Southern Christian/Baptist. After the Catholic primary school, I moved to a Christian Charter school for six years. At that age, all my activities were based around my church and religious school; safe to say, religion was a very big part of my childhood. When Covid hit, I had had enough and I used the social distancing and the lockdown as a way to disconnect from the church. I effectively stopped going to church in 2020. I then took that time to explore my religious trauma and guilt, and this was where my healing journey began.
Everyone’s journey is different, and everyone’s journey is valid. ♥️
I began my work with my CBT therapist (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy— most therapy is CBT or Freudian). I found that most of my religious guilt was tied to my sexuality, and that I really struggled with being gay and being religious. So I explored that. I talked about it with lots of people, including my therapist, trusted family members, and other trusted religious people. I found that finding others who struggled with sexuality and religion was extremely helpful, it made me feel validated and not alone in the struggle. Today, I am way further along with my religious guilt than I was 3 years ago, but I definitely still have more to process, accept, and heal from.
Next there was my religious trauma. For this, I started with my CBT therapy as well. It was helpful, but after 3 years, I have run into a wall… It depends on the intensity of your trauma, because “little t” trauma is more easily resolved through CBT, whereas “capital T” trauma requires the neural network in your brain. My trauma is more “capital T”, and so I found that CBT therapy only helped me so much. This is why I recommend EMDR therapy for trauma. EMDR therapy targets restricting your neural network, working out the traumatic memories.
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Everyone’s experience is different, so what worked for me and what didn’t work might be different for you, and that’s okay. This is only my experience. But I hope that it was a little helpful, and that you at least feel less alone in your feelings. Because they are so valid. ♥️♥️
So yea, those are my key points for religious trauma and guilt…! Hope this was somewhat relatable, helpful, and informative 🥰 Don’t hesitate to reach out and chat with me, ask or dm! Hope you have a lovely day/night!! 💞💞
Talk with Me ❤️‍🔥
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diveintomydream · 6 months
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I regret it so much that i didnt killed myself a long time ago.
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elizabeeeeeth · 1 month
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nothing0fnothing · 4 months
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Did any of you have narcissistic abusers who ruined things?
My page is about narcissistic abuse from the perspective that my parents were the narcissistic abusers, and they loved a opportunity to ruin something I cared about.
Christmas, birthdays, holidays, school events or drama productions I was in. They'd pick a fight and assault me physically either hours before or hours after. Day ruined. On Christmas one year my dad threw me down the stairs of our holiday home over a croissant. And then I had to pull myself together and fix my face so I could deal with all the merriment when our extended family showed up for dinner. Everyone else's day was fine, but mine and my sisters, ruined.
Treasured items like notebooks, photo frames, nick knacks, toys or mementos, especially if they were bought out of my pocket money or gifted to me by a family member, if they were in a bad mood it was things like that that'd get broken, thrown or damaged. I remember days after my birthday my presents from my party getting smashed in a rage in front of me.
Friendships, mentorships or just any genuine or good relationships I had. If I was close with a teacher or a mentor they'd pull me out of classes, if I became close with my friends parents or other adult family members my mom would go into a jealous rage and become violent to really discourage further interactions with them. She would manufacture drama in my friend groups too. I remember being 10 years old when she was called out by a parent of a friend of mine bc the level of interaction she was having with my friend group and causing upset to 4 literal children was weird and inappropriate.
Compliments, awards evenings, after parties, theatre productions and basically anything that was celebrating or supporting me. She always felt times like this were the opportune moments to bring up some unrelated way that I'd failed. You got an academic award for writing? But they haven't seen how bad you are at maths. You produced and directed that entire school play? This is a great time to bring up how untidy your bedroom is. An auntie says my dress is pretty? Loudly scold her in front of me for ignoring my obvious weight problem. Moment ruined.
From a young age I learned to not seem too excited about anything. If I enjoyed something or was proud of something. It was second nature to get all those positive feelings out somewhere else before taking the news to my parents. If I had a good time at a friends house or really liked a present I knew to keep it to myself because it would be so easy for them to ruin it for me in the future.
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ksbbb · 1 year
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. “Don’t focus on them.  Just focus on me.” Thiam 😘
Focus (thiam)
It’s been way too long for Liam to be feeling this way, or he thinks it is, but Mason argues with him about it and still tries to convince him that it’s okay. That sometimes when the brain deals with a traumatic situation then it’s only normal to still have negative feelings about something. Or about someone and different places. It’s not really something he expected to deal with so soon, but seeing his former lacrosse buddies from his other school, the ones that locked him in a cage at the zoo, and threw lacrosse balls at him, caused a mild panic to set in. Then the thought of almost losing control here during the war doesn’t help him any.
He can rationalize that they most likely don’t even remember him, and he is a werewolf now, so the odds of them being able to trap him in a cage again, is very unlikely, but his mind still hasn’t completely caught up to his rational side of thinking yet. He keeps telling himself to remain calm, keep his breathing normal, and to ignore any feeling of anxiety coursing though him. He tells himself this, but he still can’t force his mind to catch up, and he’s staring to feel himself shift as they draw closer.
“What’s going on?” He hears Corey asks, it sounds far away, almost through a muffled door, as if his body isn’t here right now, and he wishes more than anything that he could make himself forget all about his time here.
“Am I…I don’t know. How long does it take to get a drink?” Mason starts looking around frantically, peering into the crowd, as he starts to panic almost as much as Liam, and starts rapidly texting on his phone. It causes Liam to panic more and he starts to hyperventilate.
“We did tell Theo to get us like 6 drinks because we didn’t want to have to go back.” Corey’s voice sounds high, panic rising in his voice, as Liam starts to feel his claws poking through his fingertips. “Oh..he’s not going to shift here is he?” Corey latches onto Liam’s shoulder, his fingernails sinking into him, and if he was able to focus on something other than the constant memory bombarding him, he would welcome the anchoring touch of a friend, but he can’t find anything to center himself.
That night burns into his memory like a fire blazing in the dark, and it haunts him to his very core when he remembers the pain, along with the embarrassment of being caged in, and having to hold in tears from the constant yelling from his peers. Blaming him for the loss of game, because of his IED. His IED that caused him to lose it on his former coaches car.
“Liam…”
His fangs slide over his tongue, and he can almost taste blood, smell the fear from his own scent, and his entire body starts to shake from the control of holding in his wolf, and holding in his shift. He’s not a new werewolf anymore and Scott would tell him to use his anchor, but he’s not sure he has one anymore.
He desperately bites down on his lip, drawing blood, and anger starts to boil over as notices one of them laugh about something. His erratic breathing starts to catch in his throat, and he’s slipping. Slipping out of Mason and Corey’s grasp, his own mind screaming at him to do something, anything but let them get away with it. Is that his wolf, or is it him wanting to shift? He can’t find the difference anymore.
“Liam…”
A low growl leaves his throat, a silence surrounds him, he’s lost focus on anything else, he can’t hear, can’t see anything but his former teammates standing in front of him. His skin is itching. Clawing at him to let himself shift, allow his own fear and anxiety to overpower him and take over. To not allow it to happen again.
“Liam…” A hand catches his just as he’s about to lash out, his eye flickers with yellow, and he turns around to roar, but comes face to face with Theo. His hand is pried apart and Theo sighs, gently running his hand over Liam’s claw marks. It soothes him, and he starts to notice more people around him. He looks around him to find his former teammates.
“Focus. Don’t focus on them. Just focus on me.” Theo appears in his line of vision, shifting him gently so he can face him. Holding his shoulder gently, and still running his hand over the wounds on his hand that have started healing.
A small smile plays on Theo’s lips as Liam blinks a few times and starts to breath normally again. Theo leads him over to a bench, and he sits down, his anxiety starting to fade, and he is handed a drink to sip on.
“I was gone for about ten minutes.” Theo ponders to himself, and he playfully pushes Liam’s shoulder, as he takes a sip of his own drink.
“Yeah. Well…maybe next time we can do something other than the zoo.” He takes Theo’s hand in his, gently running his fingertips over his palms, and decides that maybe he might have an anchor.
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whumpy-gems · 2 years
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Super underrated panic attack scene from the Uncanny Counter.
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guulabii · 1 year
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the body keeps the score,
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ashersskye · 3 months
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Very gentle reminder that your trauma is in the past. It's not happening anymore. You are safe. All you gotta do is sit here and ride the wave.
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furiousgoldfish · 1 year
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it is only thru the process of severe memory loss that I will ever have a good time
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sasuga-whump · 2 months
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MARS - Tada Kimi wo Aishiteru ep 7
Rei has painful flashbacks to his traumatic past
Full whump list for this show can be found here
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cissyenthusiast010155 · 6 months
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Am I asexual or just traumatized--that is the question
*sigh* Ahhh anon…
My heart feels for you. Your question is a serious one. One not to be overlooked.
Preface: This is in no way meant to look down upon or lower the validity of asexuality. I am a fierce part of the lgbtqia+ community, and I 100% support the ace community within ♥️♥️♥️. This discussion relates to trauma and the unfortunate downside of asexuality being used as a coping mechanism.
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A lot of people experience trauma… And there are many ways people cope with their trauma. One unfortunate coping mechanism is shutting yourself off completely, because of the trauma, i.e. using asexuality as a coping mechanism.
My recommendation? Work through your trauma. Address it. Get a professional to help, online or in person. Talk through it. Talk with the people you love and trust. Write about it. Draw about it. Sing about it. Get it out. Process it. Heal from it.
Once you have worked through your trauma, then you can see what’s really left. Is it truly asexuality? Or was it actually a trauma deflection mechanism?
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So, I’m proud of you for asking that question. Don’t stop there. Look into it. I believe in you. You got this. And let me know how it goes!! 💞💞💞
Talk with Me ❤️‍🔥
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mypheralside · 1 year
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"Everything would have been fine if I'd never met you. I hate you!" "Iriya!!"
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