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faeriekit · 1 month

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Health and Hybrids (XXI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Wonder Woman! Robin! Impulse! Danny! Dick drawings! Who says that occupational therapy and learning a second language can't be fun?

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

EXTRA TW for: vomiting, panic attacks (this chapter only)

Danny can hold a spoon now. He is unstoppable.

So, when the lady isn’t there to feed him dinner (more mush), one of the not-the-lady nurses gives Danny a tray, and lays a mat over his lap so that he can eat without completely messing up his bedsheets.

Eat he does. Slowly. Maybe a little messily, and it’s kind of embarrassing to have to admit to himself that food definitely spills out of his mouth and onto his lap. The doctor/nurse/medical person, whoever they are, turns on the television, and Danny doesn’t try to ask for the remote. The television only gets something like ten channels, and none of them are cartoons at lunch hour.

So. News it is.

Most of the news follows the same cycle; the weather, sports teams Danny can now recognize the colors of, traffic cameras, and events with long, scrolling text to detail the happenings onscreen. There’s something about dogs? That’s fun. The scientist/nurse/tech, whoever they are, says something in the tone of Aaw, aren’t they cute? as puppies run about and wrestle on screen.

Danny kind of misses Cujo. He picks at his bedsheet, and doesn’t say anything.

The dog program transitions away— there’s a bright banner in its place. Danny’s seen it before: it’s something to the equivalent of Breaking News. It’s usually weather, or crime, or something.

Um. But it’s not that. Danny’s spoon drops, because a ROBOT LADY lights up the screen with a glistening silver suit, not unlike the Ecto-Skeleton his parents used to keep in the basement. Or, well…this one might be more streamlined?

Danny shifts. He can’t help. He’s here, in the hospital. Or. Uh. The space…hospital. His body is very broken.

But there’s a robot lady wrecking a town on Earth.

And Danny can fly.

…Could fly. Could have flown. If he was. Well.

Danny’s not well, and his body aches and his hands don’t work and his legs work even less, but there’s people out there who need help. People who are getting shot at with rays and Danny can fight them, and humans can’t. Danny can help. He—

His core throbs. Danny chokes. He pulls at his chest, trying to find some kind of purchase on his medical gown to tug himself—up?? Out?? He can’t fly right now, but maybe—?

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, abide, abide.”

Danny grits his teeth. “Look!” he snaps, and jams a finger at the television. “There’s—look! There’s a giant robot out there punching buildings!”

“Wacie,” the human protests, but at least turns up the volume so that Danny can see better. “Wacie, þær eart firas þær nou.”

What does that mean?!

Danny hasn’t lifted himself in forever. His legs don’t work, but his arms…might.

He presses his palms down to the mattress. He pushes.

There is a liberated fraction of a second where Danny’s whole weight is on his arms.

—And then he comes crashing back to reality, his elbows snapping back into place. His butt slams back onto the bed and the whole frame jitters.

Danny pants. His arms quake.

The medic completely barrels through Danny’s usually meticulously-kept personal bubble, trying to make sure Danny didn’t dislodge his IV or rip his ligaments and tendons or tear his muscles or. Something. Danny barely notices, barely cares, because someone else blasts onto the television screen in a red bathing suit and gold boots.

And suddenly, both the people on screen are fighting. It’s brilliant. It’s bloody—it’s physical, in the way that flesh and bone and metal must be. Danny’s never seen serious fighting like that before.

And the new woman flies.

Danny stares.

She flies. She fights. She wins—narrowly dodging or displacing lasers with something shiny on her arms, and getting long hair singed in the process. In the end, the robot is tethered down with some kind of shiny metal rope, screaming and kicking all the way.

…Danny barely remembers to choke in air. That's so cool.

The medical person says something reassuring, but Danny’s too tired to listen. He watches this new woman take her applause, floating down on nothing but air to meet the reporter and answer questions. She looks poised. Confident. People clap. People shout things out. People smile. People cheer.

…No one is screaming. No one is running.

There are no ghost hunters in the crowd.

Danny’s exhale is manual. So is his inhale. His heart monitors are making all sorts of funky pictures most likely, but that’s not his business—he watches a woman in armor who flies take off into the sky, free to come and go as she pleases.

It…it hurts. It’s so beautiful and so peaceful and gentle and it hurts so much.

His eyes well up with tears. Why did she get this? This…niceness? Everyone had hated him when he'd tried to help—the teachers, Vlad, the town, his parents. They’d hated him! All he ever wanted to do was help like she did!

What made him so different?! Why was it Danny who got hunted down and shot at? Why was it Danny who got kidnapped and taken hostage?!

Tears burn his eyes like fire. It’s got to be the salt. Danny’s strangled whine turns into a choked off sob before he can catch it. His hand goes to his mouth, but he can’t stifle the noise.

He doesn’t want to. He wants to cry. He thinks he deserves it.

The tears come until he is sobbing, crying, wailing—because WHY WHY WHY was it so easy to hurt him?! WHY DID THEY HURT HIM, WHY DID MOM HURT HIM, HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!

A towel appears in his hand. They’re so nice to him here. So much nicer than when Mom and Dad had—

Danny’s cries are as much screams as they are anything else.

There are hands on his shoulder. On his back. Rubbing. Danny wants to shove them off but the lady isn’t here, which means that it’s one of the staff-members who isn’t supposed to touch him. They’re not supposed to touch him in case Danny hurts them but one of them gave Danny a clean towel to scream into and is rubbing his back because he’s crying.

They’re trying to be so nice and gentle but EVERYONE JUST WANTS TO HURT HIM.

They’re smart, though. They notice before Danny does, and have a bucket ready by the time heaving sobs turn into outright vomiting.

At least the mush mostly makes it into the bucket.

…So.

Having a breakdown…sucks.

Danny has to carefully brush his teeth with an extra-soft bristle brush and rinse out his mouth before he gets more water.

Someone is being very nice. There’s artificial fruit punch flavoring in his drink. He wants to feel grateful but he mostly feels dead.

…His eyes slide listlessly across the room. Ha. Dead.

Danny is horizontal and wrung dry and too tired to do anything but pant by the time the lady comes back to his room. She’s in quicker than usual—her gown is sort of sloppy, hair sticking out of her hair net, and she’s still looping her mask around her ear.

She gets down on her knees beside his bed. She asks him if he’s alright.

Danny’s not alright. He isn’t sure he’s been alright in…ages. Ages and ages. Before he was trapped and tied down. Before he was hated. Reviled.

…Before he was Phantom, maybe; before Danny Fenton had died a shocking, senseless death.

Tears try to wring themselves out of his aching eyeballs, but he’s too dry-eyed to cry; the lady make sad, wet eyes for him, and that’s probably enough between the two of them. Danny’s misery is a vast, gaping void, and all he has to show for it is the shovel he’s been digging through all this shit with for the last few years.

The lady brings her hands closer to his hairline, curled fingers hovering in the air. Her word’s don’t mean anything to him, but the gesture is clear: May I?

“…Mm,” Danny agrees. His eyes fall closed when she gently scratches at his scalp with her fingers.

No one’s touched him gently, on purpose, in…ages. When he was little, Dad used to pop him between him and Mom in bed. Mom would brush out Danny’s bangs with her fingers and Dad would hum. It was always something ill-fitting and silly. Guns N’ Roses. Led Zepplin. Santana. Sometimes Jazz would sit with them, crushing him until Dad had to pull him up and out of harm’s way.

In the quarantine lab, hurting him had just been part of the scientific process. What if there was some new discovery under his fat layer? On the other side of his ribs? Nestled between his alveoli?

Danny sniffles. He’s too dry to cry. He blinks invisible dust off of his eyelashes, and focuses on the weird lady who’s with him now.

Up close, when his eyes work, she looks nice. She has blue eyes, like him. Like Dad. They’re kinda…glowy, maybe? Sparkly? They remind him of ice in the Far Frozen—inhumanly brisk, and impossibly clean. She has eye crinkles where she smiles, tan skin making them more defined than their actual depth. Between her hair net and her medical mask, little wisps of black baby hairs shine through.

She pets him. She smiles. Danny isn’t sure why, but. Whatever. Jazz used to insist that human skin-to-skin contact was an essential need, so this is probably, like, also medical care.

Yeah. Danny squints. …Sure.

Whatever. It’s nice.

So Danny gets petted and it’s fine. He almost doesn’t notice the giant gauntlet under the paper sleeve of her gown, but then it’s right in his field of vision, and. Hey. Didn’t he see that on TV, like, an hour ago?

Danny stares.

He can’t actually tell if they’re gold under the pale blue color of the gown, but. The color is certainly some sort of unusually colored metal, cold to the touch even through the paper-like material of the gown.

…He doesn’t want to touch her, or let her know that he’s touching her. But. He brushes the back of his wrist against the bracelet, and it hums against the paper gown between it and his bare skin.

The lady blinks. She looks down at where they made contact, and asks him if he’s alright.

Danny looks away.

She knows she saw him reach out to her, though, so she takes her hand off of his hair (…hey…) and pulls back the sleeve on her gown. “Sest,” she offers. See?

It is the same kind of bracer he saw on TV. Up close he can see the designed etched into it—geometric lines stretching down from her fingers to her elbow, terminating in something structural. Not quite diamonds. Just…strong.

There’s a couple of very, very tiny letters down towards the bottom. His eyes strain when they try to make any sense out of them; they’re too small for him to actually focus on, which sucks.

She steps back, and pushes her sleeves down to show off her gold bracers. She lifts up the hem of her gown, revealing red boots that go waaaay up her thigh. They have the same gold metalwork as she does on the bracers.

Danny just saw those on the television. His eyes widen.

“You—“ he starts, and then remembers their difference in language. He points his hand at the television. “You fought? You were on TV?”

“Hwæt?”

“The TV?” Danny repeats. She doesn’t understand. Danny doesn’t know how to tell her what he means. “The…you were there?”

She looks at him to expand. Danny looks back at her.

…So they just stare at each other silently.

The door cracks open; the person who’d mediated Danny’s breakdown pokes their head in and says something. “Eower feoht wæs an þe box todæge.”

The lady blinks. Danny blinks. Wait. Did they just call the television the box?

“…Box?” Danny clarifies, and lifts a hand to shakily point at the television again.

The lady blinks, and grins. “Yea!” she returns, pumped up. She stands, to the powerful height she’d had on the television—excuse him, the box—and flexes her now-exposed arms to show off massive biceps.

Holy moly. Danny hasn’t seen any bigger biceps on his Dad.

She flexes one arm, the other, both—in front, and behind. If Danny had that much definition, he’d be showing off too! She leaps back impossibly far—and holy crap she can fly— to show off some mock punches at invisible enemies at speeds that Danny would be hard pressed to follow even with supernatural abilities.

He goggles.

She laughs at him, but she doesn’t sound mean—she sounds show-boating and silly, and teasing and playful, but not mean.

She’s like him. She’s not a ghost but she flies and she’s not human. She’s not human just like Danny. Just like that one green guy. Like the fast kid who visits him.

It’s such a relief. It’s so scary. Who are these people? Why are they healing him? Why are they keeping him?? Why do they have access to so many non-human people? What do they want him for? Is Danny supposed to fight like that?

He would fight. If he had to. He’s done it before.

If they make him fight, Danny’s pretty sure he’s going to fall apart like cheap glass.

The lady comes back when Danny goes quiet, her gloved fingers brushing up against his knuckles. The sensation is enough to bring Danny out of his…fog. Sometimes everything is so cloudy and vague. The pain medicine makes it go away, and the pain medicine brings it back.

Danny curls his hand into a shaking fist. He bumps her knuckles against his.

She makes a surprised noise. Danny feels her gently move his fingers, rearranging, moving where his thumb goes—

He huffs out a laugh. His fist wasn’t good enough to her standards. Her fist bump meets his in the middle with a smirk and a laugh, victory written all over her face.

#Whoever told you healing was linear was LYING TO YOU #my boy has PROBLEMS #'he's healing' Physically? Yes!#ngl I got through the whole chapter and wrapped up and started updating this post and THEN went. Wait. Is this a panic attack?#turns out! It is!#health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dcu crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw medical #tw gore #tw body horror

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vcrnons · 9 months

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20220603 HOT ; VERNON

bonus feat. wonwoo:

#vernon #vernon gifs #chwe vernon #choi hansol #vernon chwe #seventeen #svt #seventeen gifs #svtgifs #*mine #my gif #cw flashing #tw flashing #flashing gif #i love one (1) man #the tongue in the last one is a danger to both my mental and physical health #i'm going to eat him whole x #*** *** *** **** x

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squea · 1 month

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today (i think) is my 5th simblr anniversairy!!!! yuck but also waow

after coming out of what has probably been the most traumatic week of my life, and generally doing not so good mentally for the last few months, I can say that I'm ready to get better and do better for myself. feeling worthless and helpless is a very scary place to be, feeling like dirt for failing at most things, and being barely adequate at others! but im not saying all this to be all boohoo im trying to say the opposite!

despite everythin, simblr has been such a pillar to me and my mental health sdjfsg it sounds dumb ik! but in late 2018 i blocked almost everyone i knew and became a hermit for a bit whilst i was going through some medical things. at that time i set up my simblr and it was so refreshing to be in an environment where my hobbies and interests which had been ridiculed for years irl, were celebrated and shared. i was having so much fun with the ugliest reshade in the world, 0 cc making knowledge but a desire to learn and just interacting with others in the community dfjghdf

and thank you so so much from the bottom of my heart to those who have commissioned me since i started doing commissions last year. seriously you have no idea how much its helped me financially and mentally gfjdhf

anyway!!!!! this is already coming across incredibly yucky but just wanted to say thank you. to anyone ive spoken to once or now talk to daily on discord (u know) because youve helped me more than i can be bothered to find the words to explain ok. this place has given me purpose and stability to improve mentally, learn, and make friends!!!

for a couple months now ive been working on my story with corn. i cant wait to start posting it sdjfhsd. things are getting better for me, i think! :-)

anyway thank u thank u thank u thank u kisses for u

#delete later #tw mental health #its so funny to think when my physical health was abysmal my mental health was so good and then as i got better physically my mental health #went owie!

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signanothername · 1 month

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Besties who know nothing of personal space and social distancing when it comes to each other supremacy <3333

Also can i just say how so very happy yet so very sad Okuyasu makes me? How can this absolute sunshine have such an unfairly harsh life??? LET MY SON BE ALWAYS HAPPY

#something I always loved in part 4 is its subtlety sometimes #episode 10 is literally all about Tonio’s stand healing Oku’s physical health #while not having much effect on Josuke cause (aside not trusting Tonio’s food) he doesn’t need it #which is also tied to how each lived/ live their lives #Oku coming from a broken home and therefore doesn’t have the best physical health??? *chef’s kiss*#Josuke having a nice warm home and being in peak physical health??? yes sir #there are so many instances in jojo as a whole that uses subtext to enrich the main story with these lil details and i LOVE them #anothers art #diamond is unbreakable #josuke higashikata #okuyasu nijimura #stray cat #tama #jjba #jjba josuke #jjba okuyasu #jjba fanart #jjba stray cat #jojo #jojo fanart #jojo josuke #jojo okuyasu #jojo stray cat #jjba diamond is unbreakable #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo part 4 #jjba part 4 #scopophobia tw #scopophobia cw #scopophobia

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mushramoo · 9 days

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hey!!!!! I’m not deceased!!! (It’s pretty sad how many times I’ve had to say that….so sorry) I’ve just had the actual worst semester of my whole friggin life (really have an awful mental state AND physically and extremely low on funds) and I’m currently tryharding my finals and current comms, I’m very behind but please bear with me. I’ve had some severe health issues and have been practically bedridden bc of it. I’m really struggling to find inspiration and motivation, but I’m still extremely into fnaf!!!! I never won’t be!!!! I have some stuff I’m gonna post really soon related to some asks and general doodles but yeah. Thank you everyone for ur patience and support, I’ll be far more reliable on here by the beginning of may <3

my comms will open by then too, once I finish my wonderful clients currently that have also been super patient with me ^^

I’m also gonna try and update my mushart tag because it’s a work in progress, not great atm

#thank you everyone 😭#I’m trying really hard #I’m hopefully gonna get answers for mental stuff and physical stuff #tw mental health #tw medical #just in case #I love you guys sm and I miss engaging so much #if you send me asks I can respond!!! I’m trying to get better about that #fnaf related? cos I have some upcoming projects #and most ppl know me for that stuff #so I will tag it as related?#fnaf related #mooing #mush

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uncanny-tranny · 9 months

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I'm going to be real, I think people (particularly neurotypical people) really fail when they see disordered eating as solely a behaviour when it isn't just that (and usually they assume the behaviour can only be restricted eating). Disordered eating is as much a frame of thinking as it is a "behaviour".

I say this is a failure because people are struggling, and they aren't receiving help they need because they're not seen as "eating disordered". The mindset that leads to somebody developing the behaviours associated with disordered eating is - in my experience - absolutely life-ruining and devastating. It genuinely feels like a huge part of your soul has shriveled up and vanished. When you see disordered eating as a behaviour, you are fundamentally not understanding what these issues tend to be, and how they arise.

This is so, so especially important for people who don't "look" the way society expects. For instance, the number of men I see absolutely destroyed by these thoughts, feelings, and compulsions is really almost astonishing. We need to do better for everybody - everybody deserves the help they want and need.

#mental health #mental health advocacy #disordered eating #disordered eating tw #eating disorder tw #ed tw #(and no this wasn't me saying men have it the worst but that it was an example of what i meant)#(a HUGE reason i go to the gym alone and never EVER follow fitness influencers is because they seem to be in a disordered mindset)#(and i do not think that is an indication that they are a Bad Person but that they are not in a good way and i can't be part of that)#nobody struggling with this is a Bad Person - they are simply human and they deserve to be seen and treated as such #i just have A Lot of feelings and thoughts about this #it is absolutely soul-crushing to be AFRAID of food...#...and like ime it's almost... worse than the physical aspects sometimes #(though again that's just in my experience and i'm not an authority or expert)

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babey-lewis · 19 days

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I wish my health (physical and emotional/mental) was better. I'd really like to take on a little, but I just can't commit to that at the moment with everything going on. I wish life was easier, so we could all be friends and take care of each other.

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mysidaesm · 8 months

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How fakeclaimers tell if you are faking a disorder!!!!!!

-you have a less than super common disorder

-you dress in any way that isn't casual

-youre queer in some way shape or form

-you act "cringe"

-youre a minor/you are young

-you show symptoms

-you don't show symptoms

-you don't follow stereotypes

-you follow stereotypes

-you use popular social media

-you have more than one illness/disorder/etc

-wait what does any of that have to do with anything

-im starting to think that fakeclaimers are just bigoted

-who could've guessed

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subparcarrion · 1 month

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CW//TW: kinda vent, discussion of tics and tic attacks (and some of the aftermath for me), discussion of high stress and anxiety situations, cussing/cursing, discussion of physical pain, discussion of pills.

(ACTUAL POST UNDER CUT.)

So... yeah,,,

Tic attacks, gonna have to go with ☆☆☆☆☆/★★★★★ (0/5). Especially at close to four in the morning at a sleepover.

Not really sure why I'm deciding to put it out on the internet, but I guess I wanna talk about it or smth. And with March break and my crippling social anxiety the closest I've come to talking about it irl is a quick "that was kinda traumatic ngl" to a close friend over text.

In retrospect it makes sense, it's the most stressed I've been in a while now paired with a lot of just having to be constantly "on" and feeling scared to say no.

For context I did a pseudo babysitting job for a family friend from around mid afternoon to nearly midnight. I then decided to go a sleepover with my friends late since they had been kind enough to move the date so I could attend. (Probably not the best idea for the future who has a bad anxiety disorder and probably a lot of other stuff, but when have I ever said no.)

The job itself was pretty stressful but the kid and her mom's are super nice and did their best to accommodate me, so that was really nice. (They also paid me really well when I would have honestly done if for free so I'm not gonna complain. Anything bad was kinda just unavoidable considering it was me who was doing the job.)

Im also not really gonna bitch about the sleepover too much, my friends are lovely, the timing just made things rough.

Since I was arriving so late we hung out for like an hour and then went to bed (at least tried to go to bed), a lot of tha time was just kinda spent getting ready for bed though. There's nothing wrong with that, I just ended up feeling a little like I had missed out on the best part of stuff. (Again, no one else's fault.)

Everyone else fell asleep pretty quick, however I was not tired at all. It wasn't unexpected though, going from one high stress situation to another doesn't really let you let your guard down. Let alone feel properly sleepy.

So I just kinda did some stuff on my phone for thirty minutes to see if I would get tired and then decided to finally turn in for the night still very much all to aware of everything.

At this point it's probably important to mention that everyone in my froend group has at least a passing interest in a game called "The Stanley Parable". And if you didn't know you can go into an elevator in that game, and it kinda just plays this goofy elevator music in loup until you leave.

It is thus tradition in my friend group to play the elevator music while we fall asleep at any and all sleepovers where it is possible and everyone is chill with it.

The elevator is kinda some basic lyricless pop-ish kinda techno song where you can occasionally, if you listen closely enough hear the narrator hum along with the tune. The song itself is a certified banger, but I was stressed as fuck and hyperaware of everything. It was safe to say it was driving me crazy, especially the humming part.

I didn't really have any means to turn it off though and I would feel bad doing it. After all, I had agreed to it any it would be distruptful to try since it was super late and the room was pretty packed. To move around too much would probably wake someone up. (Wow, foreshadowing or smth.)

I never really got to sleep and it was around late three in the morning, nearly four when shit really started to hit the fan.

(Another bout of context before I continue: so I've had what I'm just calling tics at this point for about a year now, maybe a bit longer. At least that's when they started getting really noticeable and causing real problems for me. Personally for me it's mostly motor ticks that get much worse in stressful situations. Stressful situations being an iffy description that could cover pretty much anything on acount of the anxiety disorder. Albeit over time it has developed into mostly motor ticks with occasional verbal ones.

I can have periods where they are happening very few times a day and then ones where they are happening several times a minute, either way they never really go away. I had been doing pretty good tick wise before this whole ordeal, now it's definitely leaning towards the worse, more disruptive and painful side.)

It started off with a ciuple of my usual motor tics, getting more and more aggressive very quickly. For the most part these would consist of things like my shoulders jumping up and hitting the vase of my head and neck or my hands doing weird shit.

By the time the verbal tics started the motor tics were so aggressive and frequent they were getting pretty painful. This would be the same time I would start making small squeaks as a verbal tick.

It became pretty clear after that this wasn't stopping any time soon so I sat up and used my pillow to cover my mouth in hopes to muffle the noise so I wouldn't wake anyone.

This was the point where something changed and my tics got the worst they'd ever been. It went from squeaks to small screams and loud grunts. And I was just sitting there in pain scared out of my mind for nearly and hour before the noise finally woke up my friends. Cuz despite all my effort a pillow can't hide constant screaming for very long.

When my friends woke up they were reasonably concerned, they knew I had tics that could occasionally get kinda bad but this was the worst it had been, and I could barely explain through the ticks that it had been going on for about an hour. There was definitely no way I was calming them down, and in all fairness I was freaking out too and they handled the whole shitshow remarkably well.

They probably spent twenty minutes or more trying to calm me down or help, but nothing was working, in fact it might have been getting worse. One of my friends also tried Google-ing it, but Google pretty much said drug him or ignore them were feasible options for yours truly, the little bitch boy.

My friend eventually got their mom and I regained enough control to pack my shit and got driven home. I downed as much sleeping and pain meds as I was allowed to take and continued ticking until I passed out.

Idk,,, not a particularly entertaining story, ig I just wanted to get it out somewhere.

As for me right now, it's been two days and I can't go five minutes without some sort of tic at most.

However, I'm feeling somewhat better, even if my neck hurts like shit.

I suppose that's all, thanks for listening to me bitch and moan tumblr. <33 /p

-carrion_

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genderstealer2000 · 4 months

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Okay, i know people have already established how overlooked childrens mental health is, but i wanted to put my view and experiences here. TW! mentions of abuse, substance use, sh, ed my childhood was not great in the slightest. i didnt grow up in a good home, it was mostly filled with drug addicts and loads of abuse. my mother was so preoccupied with other things, she never really acknowledged me and my siblings unless she was angry and yelling at us. she didnt care what happened to us. we were just other people living in her house. if youre going to have kids, treat them the way children should be treated. in all of the homes ive stayed in, ive always felt like a burden. ive always been reminded of who im related to, what has happened to me, and who i am. i want to move past everything, but its hard when my guardians (that willingly took me in) are using my mother to guilt trip me. "youre acting just like your mother." "keep acting like that and you know what youll become?" anytime i try to talk to them about anything, they make it seem catatonic. like im turning into this monster when in reality i just need help. my mother did not pick good partners. they were terrible people, and did terrible things to her, my siblings and me. i watched my mother deal with self harm, and an eating disorder, and she was pressing these things on me and my siblings. granted she wasnt in a good headspace at all, and she was always on something, but that is not appropriate at all to show your kids. and its very hard for me to create relations with the people i live with because of this. i never know whats going to happen, if im going to get punished. my foster families just saw me as another mouth to feed, and now that i live with my adoptive mom, she just says im not trying. they call me selfish for having suicidal thoughts, they call me attention seeking for cvtting, they call me disgusting for making myself throw up. what do they want? anytime i try to communicate my feelings i get shut down! my gender identity was formed from my trauma. i dont feel comfortable in a womans body. the people my mother lived with ruined me. everytime i view myself as a girl i get sick to my stomach. "youre not a boy," not biologically im not, but it helps me to view myself this way because i feel stronger. i dont feel as weak as when those events happened. and we're working on it, im trying to explain things to her and mend our relationship, but she doesnt understand. thats why i want to help her understand. so we can both heal. i think parents (guardians) are too scared to talk about their childrens mental health because they think that theyre the cause of it. even if they are a part of it they SHOULD talk! let it be known. communication is the most important part of a family, or relationships. communication is needed. dont treat your kids horribly. its sad that it has to be said, but they need parents for comfort. they look up to you for guidance, for love and affection. dont make your children feel like a burden. dont make them afraid of you.

#tw vent #vent post #mental health awareness #trauma survivor #childhood trauma #abuse survivor #cptsd recovery #sa survivor #ptsd #sh vent #3d vent #emotional abuse #physical abuse #coping #trauma recovery #trauma related #mental abuse #mental health

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