#tw: depersonalization

[ao-xingyume1987]

Held

#angst #tw: Depersonalization #l4d2 au #nellis #au #sfm #sfm poster #l4d2 sfm #source filmmaker #fanwork #my art #((I know it may be ooc but I need release some angst out of my system))

[n1ghtwarden]

minth is vain - she has a high opinion of her physique and face (as she should, she's hot); but after being freed from the tadpole's influence and orin's occasional piloting of her as a thrall, to me - it is a front; denial, even. minth does not recognise her own body any more. she is covered in awful, deep scars that have been haphazardly patched together from orin's blades and hooks. she spent a week, at the very least, in the colony at moonrise - she also admits she will never recover from what was done to her. old scars and battle wounds that once gave her such pride ( surviving assassination attempts; the scars she gained besting her mother, every wound sustained in combat and marked just how strong and capable she is ) have been overwritten with new, fresher ones. depending on how deep orin went, it is likely she has nerve damage in certain areas as well - something that would have become plain to her only after being rescued by the party. her body, which has carried her through so much, is not only unrecognizable to her, but is a stranger - something she does not like to look at any more; and the scars a reminder of the shame of her defeat and capture.

in addition to the scarring, minth's body was quite literally not her own while tadpoled and enthralled. either obeying commands of the absolute or being puppeteered by orin - her body has always been a weapon; for lolth, for the absolute - but while in the underdark, minth knows she did everything there of her own volition, instead of coming out from a fog to realise all her hands did with no choice or regard to her own feelings or morals.

another reason why, in the brief moment at the goblin party, minth would proposition the player - to regain agency over a body she no longer knows; and another reason behind the extremely hard boundary of space she requests from a romanced tav if asked about sleeping with them again once freed.

#tldr i actually had to go get stitches like 6 months ago and the way my scar is healing has me thinking. anyway. #tw: depersonalization #tw: torture mention #HEADCANONS. grant silence upon those who would betray it.

[maceofpentacles]

hiiiiiii i’m having one of those moments where nothing seems real and my entire life is worth nothing so how is everyone’s day so far?? what’s up? what are we all doing??

#personal stuff #tw depersonalization #tw derealization #tw: depersonalization #tw: derealization

[dogramagra-and-destruction]

sometimes i don’t think i’m real. i don’t recognize my reflection, i don’t feel like i should exist, sometimes i feel.. wrong.

im fine though :3

#tw: depersonalization #(if that’s the wrong word please let me know the brain is malfunctioning)

[euphorial-docx]

one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me happened last night. i woke up from a deep slumber, just tired and confused in the pitch black of my room, and was thrown in the middle of a depersonalization episode. scary shit.

#tw: depersonalization #woke up hardly even knowing my name or if i was alive or not #-1000/10. do not recommend.

[goldkirk]

I’m back to dissociating as of yesterday, which honestly was pretty nice of my brain because I thought it’d happen right after we got back from the visiting family trip but instead it waited a weekend and a week and only hit now, when I’m not behind on work too badly yet. That’s new.

(tw: unreality for anyone who needs that warning)

I hadn’t noticed the signs yesterday but then in the afternoon I was staring in the mirror at myself when I was suddenly washed with that icy skipping-freakout-and-just-going-straight-to-freeze-paralysis-while-hearing-and-motionlessness-are-your-only-awareness glitch that was EXACTLY what I felt all childhood up till last year the second anything remotely possibly supernatural or angry-person-scary caught my attention, and then half a second later my brain went full on “you feel like I pilot of a mecha body today and did you see your eyes just now? Pupils are black soulless voids, they’re just holes, and you just had a demon fly straight into them and waltz in to devour and control you because YOU WEREN’T GOOD ENOUGH AND YOU LET HIM IN” and I was like “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WHY AM I FROZEN I SHOULD JUST MOVE THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS DEMONS OH MAN THAT DOESN’T MATTER THOUGH BECAUSE IM STARING AT WHAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE ME AND IT DOESNT LOOK REAL, no demons YES DEMONS I’m an atheist now YOU OPENED YOURSELF UP TO POSSESSION nooooo I DID open myself up to possession WHY AM I FROZEN WHAT DO I DO I’M SO SCARED and then I was like “hang on, hey. hey wait just a minute. wait. hey. this feels like a danger’s-not-real moment. What is ACTUALLY in my surroundings” and then I almost immediately un-froze my limbs from there and did a dissociation workout instead

even though this is stressful because I know there are things I should be thinking about or worrying about and getting done and it’s frustrating to not be able to make myself care, I do deserve 10,000 points to recovering-me because of how quickly I caught that one. The last time I had a flashback like THAT it lasted almost an entire day and a half. Look how little time I had those total panic chemicals going! That was incredible!

#religious trauma #tw: disssociation #tw: derealization #tw: depersonalization #tw: demons #tw: unreality #mirrors don’t do anything good for me when I’m dissociating #at best I get confused and at minimum I usually end up rubbing or scratching my face repetitively #trauma recovery #personal #shh katie #cult escapee

[oh-katsuki]

tw: vent, depersonalization, im talking about romance but im certain that there is mental illness in here. tread with caution. 

it’s so so hard to keep a positive outlook on romance and self. like. it’s something i crave but it’s also something im desperately afraid of. im so so scared of liking someone and giving someone the love i have and then having it backfire. 

i’ve never really had someone love me that way and at this point in my life, i doubt anyone ever will. i know im not the best person, i have so many flaws and points to myself that i just can’t seem to fix no matter how hard i try. im stubborn and i hold grudges and i can be vindictive and cunning and downright icky. and it feels like no matter how hard i try to fix those things, they always rear their ugly heads when i least want them. it seems like whenever my life is at it’s best, those bad things about myself come out. i don’t think i could take it if i tried to give my heart to someone and they saw those ugly sides to me and decided that i wasn’t worth the effort. i dont know what i would do if someone saw every part of me and decided that they couldn’t love me after all. 

so as a result i stay closed off and wear this silly little mask of this silly little girl who wants to be an animator. i just pretend to be who i think everyone expects me to be. which is essentially someone who wears their heart on their sleeve. but like... the truth is that i don’t. people will ask me what’s wrong or if something is bothering me and i’ll just lie. i’ll tell a half-truth that i think fits their narrative of me and then ill bottle up the real reason because it feels like the better option. i would rather have someone see me that way then see me for me because i am afraid they will hate it. im so afraid that i’ll be seen as weak or broken when i am not. im not a broken person, i just need a little more time. that’s all. i just need time to figure it out. 

but i want to be close to someone. i want to be loved for all that i am and all that i am not. to be held close to someone’s heart and to make a positive impact on that person. i want to hold hands and i want to spill my heart out to someone and hear someone spill theirs to me. i want to be a safe space for someone. and i want them to love me still and i want to love them still. i want to be someone that another person can love. but i don’t feel like i am because i don’t even feel like a person anymore. i don’t really think i’ve ever felt like a person. like i don’t know what it means to be a person. if you asked, i’d probably say that humanity is loving others and being kind, feeling and thinking and simply being because being is enough. but i have to remind myself of that. and it makes me sick to think about because i believe it. there is so much beauty in humanity in that way but i don’t know if it has ever applied to me. 

i make the joke a lot with my housemates that when i go up to my room i go on ‘pause’ until someone comes to get me or talks to me or presses play. and it’s funny, even to me. but it’s not really a lie. i have no idea who i am outside of other people’s perception of me. so im constantly performing. im constantly pretending and playing house with myself. 

but i want to love and be loved. i just don’t know if i can because i don’t even really know if i am. 

#tw: vent #tw: depersonalization #delete later #this went a totally different direction than i expected it to #like i was just gonna talk about wanting to love #but i ended up seeing a reason to go back to therapy #crazy how thinking will do that to a mother fucker #this is the gojo kinnie in me i know it

[jeoseungsaja]

♚ RANDOM TIDBITS, PT. 1 VERSE THREE | ARC TWO: THE BLACK KNIGHT 

◍ Goes through episodes of depersonalization and derealization, where he experiences the feeling of being detached from his mental processes, surroundings and/or his body. This happens when he’s under a lot of stress or when he remembers something heavily connected to the first weeks of mourning Patrick’s death.  ◍  If the Hyuk in arc one barely sleeps, this Hyuk sleeps even less. He fills his system with caffeine to stay alert and prefers to keep on working rather than finding rest. How he hasn’t fainted due to exhaustion is still a mystery to me, to be honest-- ◍ Has longer hair; reaches the base of his neck (as pictured above). Doesn’t go to the hairstylist often; doesn’t have the patience to do so and hearing the combination of music with the sound of scissors cutting away strands drives him up the wall. Also, since his levels of trust have dropped significantly (and they were already low to begin with), he gets irritated when someone he doesn’t even know touches his hair or when he doesn’t have control toward what’s going on.   ◍ Has thrown self-preservation out of the window, more interested in getting to the truth than making sure he comes out unscathed. This has resulted in Hyuk getting wounded on several occasions.  ◍ Speaking of wounds, there are scars that have stayed with him and he rather not talk about them, not even when someone asks out of care. One of the scars that can be considered prominent rests on his abdomen (st.ab wound).  ◍ There’s only two people thus far who have a certain degree of Hyuk’s trust: Suki Nakamura and Im Jae-Hwan. Still, he tries to keep them both at arm’s length so they don’t get in danger (though both seem to be stubborn on helping him not only with finding the truth behind Patrick’s case, but also, with his welfare because that man’s a mess and I thank Suki and Jae-Hwan for their service--).  ◍ He still keeps all the puzzles Patrick used to send him. He also still keeps Patrick’s number as a contact and tends to re-read their past conversations. And yes, he’s cried whilst reading them.  ◍ Most likely, the only thing that looks really alive in that somber office of his is a medium-sized flower pot that sits next to a lonesome window. Lily of the Valley continue to thrive in that pot. ◍ Hyuk finds a sense of comfort in the scent of hot chocolate, tea and ink coming from fountain pens. The beach is still a place of peace for him, too (hasn’t been able to visit it lately, though).  ◍ Even if he’s, in a way, abandoned his passion for drawing and painting, sometimes you’ll catch him making doodles of different things upon post-it notes. He ends up throwing them away (he doesn’t know Jae-Hwan has kept some of them, though). 

#tw derealization #tw: derealization #derealization tw #tw depersonalization #depersonalization tw #tw: depersonalization #♔ || about (verse three | arc two). #I've been saving this post in my drafts for a WHILE because I wanted to make one for this verse -- my brain's been a MESS but heRE IT IS!!! #why are most of these so freakin' sad IUWEHDIUWHDKAHDIUWEHD #thiS ARC IS SO PAINFUL PLS SEND HELP #I ADORE DEVELOPING THINGS HERE EVEN IF IT HURTS-- (thank you Ferre IWUHEDIUWEHD) #Not me re-reading the last point and going: Jae-Hwan showing the little post-it notes to pigeon man (TM) though IWUEHDIWUEHDKASHDIUWEDH #Would he like to keep some--- #Hyuk draws pigeons at times so--I mean-- WIUEHDUWIDH #♔ || queue.

[the-ghost-bird]

*dissociates to the point of losing time, memories, and sense of self*: "well, fuck"

*snaps out of dissociation*: "oh, fuCK"

#dpdr #tw: dissociation #tw: mental health #tw: depersonalization #tw: dissociating #tw: derealization #tw: dpdr

[mia-zer0]

Rest

((welp I’ve been holding onto this solo for a few weeks. Now’s as good a time as any lol))

Timeline: 3 weeks ago.

Tw: gore, death, family death, grief, depersonalization, starvation

There's a click of the lock and the draw of curtains. Sero's room becomes bathed in black, the young man staring at his bed: his newest adversary. In total darkness he could pretend he was somewhere less comfortable. Somewhere where the soft noises of his room were the sounds of his parents in the other room. Where he could pretend the rushing of water in a pipe in the wall was his younger sister's breathing. 

Outside this room he had to be put together. He had to function to show his worth. Here, he could pretend. He could mourn. 

In the darkness his bed feels like his mother's arms. He couldn't remember the last time he hugged her. Sheets crumple under his fists and teeth, and he finally lets out the sob he's been holding in the entire day. The dam breaks and he screams into the sheets, grabbing a pillow to muffle the noise. His sobbing wracks his body as he heaves for air, and in the moment he thinks he's going to puke or choke or worse. 

Dizziness creeps in as he weeps. His face will be slightly swollen tomorrow. Nothing he could do about it now. His mother, his sister…he wants to pray they're alive but he feels like it's selfish to want them when they'd only be suffering out in the West Ward. He doesn't dare hope they're safe. He tells himself this. At least his father was finally resting…at least…

He chokes again, the memory of finding his father too much to bear. He rubs his eyes as if to wipe away the memory, and it retreats for now. Finally calming down, Sero listens to the quietness of the room, trying to relax enough to where he felt like he could melt into the darkness. His breathing evens out and the snot finally stops running. His eyes have adjusted, so he slowly sits up and grabs a tissue, wiping his face and nose. 

His father had been out looking for food. He hadn't been back. Sero had to eat something. He set out. He found his father. He buried him instead of finding food.

He'd either die to the demons surrounding the area or that agency MEIA would find him. Either way, he'd bury as many demons as possible to fill the newly punched void in his heart.

For a moment he just sits there on the edge of his bed, staring at his fingers and observing the paleness of his skin that he could see just a bit of in the dark. 

He kept it dark in his sniper nest. Dark for the practical purpose of never being found by the enemy, but also for the feeling it gave him of immersing his body in the very darkness he fought. He wondered if their blood would mask his own scent but decided against it. No sense in infecting himself.

Sero sighs and looks to the foot of his bed, his father's rifle resting in the crook of the bed and the wall. MEIA had to let him keep his gun considering he claimed it as his birthright since his father was now gone. He didn't care if they took the ammo. That's not what he wanted it for anyway. Not anymore. 

CR-AACK! The demon doesn't know what hit them, only that their chest just exploded into a million scraps of meat and fragments of bone. Sero's ears are ringing despite the cloth stuck in them. He breathes in again, calm.

He grabs it, letting his hand glide over the smooth wood of the old but reliable Remington, the weight comforting in his hands. His fingers find the eight tally marks he'd carved in the butt of the rifle during his week of hell, and he felt disappointed in himself for marring his connection to his father. He hadn't been in his right mind at the time, he tells himself.

A sharp rock against the smooth finish of the gun helps him keep track. It will also tell whoever finds him how well he fought.

He remembers that week in parts, floating from one event to another in between the long stretches of nothing but silence and starvation. He doesn't remember the pain, just a warmth in his chest that wasn't comforting. The rest of his body, including his mind, was cold. Calculating. Like a machine he was piloting instead of the body he inhabited. There had been a distance to him. There was Sero, a scared young man, behind a pane of glass, as the Wraith controlled his body, only concerned about the mission. About revenge and staying alive to spite them all. 

He crept down onto the street, spray paint in hand as he held a cloth over his mouth to prevent the gagging from the blood and rotting bodies that had been in the sun a few days. He creeps between the piles of gore to the warning he'd left on the street:

ME: IIII | YOU: 0

He marks a fifth tally before retreating back up to the church bell tower to catch some semblance of sleep before dawn.

He imagines that part of him was somehow the person his father had raised, free of emotion and mistakes and instead filled with a quiet and controlled rage that would do whatever it took to enact his revenge. Bright determination of the human spirit that kept him from crossing over.

He doesn't have long. A small group of more intelligent looking demons has found his handiwork. He'd watched them through his binoculars, cursing the fact that they weren't at the right angle for his gun to make their heads explode. They leave, but they'll be back.

Sero knows he has to confront this part of him if he ever hopes to never fall and become a demon, but part of him feels that if it truly was that, he would have fallen already. He wonders if that part of him has actually kept him from drowning in despair.

Someone was on the street. Someone not emitting a dark cloud of negative energy around them. The paranoid part of him thinks it's some sort of trick on the demons' part, but his logic wins out when he doesn't spot any black markings on the human. 

They're slowly examining Sero's mess, and he allows a sliver of hope into his heart as they begin to scan the rooftops. Sero scrambles for his scrap of a broken mirror, shoving it out into the light and shaking it, making it blink rapidly. The person sees it and heads in his direction, and Sero can finally see that they're definitely wearing MEIA garb. He slumps against the wall in relief, feeling suddenly tired. His vision begins to swim a little and as he waits. He feels himself come back into his body. Pain and exhaustion bloom rapidly. The agent named Sol opens the hatch to the bell tower.

"Took you guys long enough." 

He smiles weakly before finally, blissfully, passing out.

He sighs, putting the rifle away. He's too tired for this. Maybe he'll actually sleep tonight. 

He pauses for a moment, considering his next actions before reaching under his bed and retrieving his old backpack from out in the ward. It was barely strung together with scraps, but held onto life in a way Sero admired.

He crawled into bed proper, clutching the bag to his chest, feeling the scent of his family, his home, wash over him. His body finally relaxes as a wave of calm comes over him. He closes his swollen eyes and eventually drifts into unconsciousness.

#ic zer0 #solo #rest #backstory zer0 #tw: gore #tw: death #tw: family death #tw: grief #tw: depersonalization #tw: starvation #Character: Sol

[comment-exchange]

336. Sonata for the Broken Badass in E Minor (Khyber Shards)

Title: Sonata for the Broken Badass in E Minor 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53167390/chapters/134530648

Platform: AO3 

Creator: YellowMagicalGirl 

Work Type: Fic 

Fandom: Khyber Shards 

Rating: T 

Pairing: Gen, Arlo Fletcher/Thora Tavin 

Word count: 3,342 

Warnings: Past Suicide Attempt, Depersonalization, Internalized Ableism 

Number of comments: 1 

Completion Status: Complete 

Short summary/description: After five years as the mindless weapon of Blackwheel, Thora is forced to become a person once more. Five years after Thora was presumed dead, her loved ones find out otherwise and try their best in the aftermath. 

#submission #ao3 #ff #ks #Arlo Fletcher/Thora Tavin #afxtt #3k #1c #complete #multi chapter #tw: past suicide attempt #tw: depersonalization #tw: internalized ableism #Khyber Shards #YellowMagicalGirl #Fandom-Blind Friendly #Disabled Character #angst #hurt/comfort #archive of our own #fanfiction

[malpractising]

Eden doesn't think he's a real or entire person because he's not a living person and he doesn't really talk about that unless pressed, and I need to sit down and explore that in threads more often. Ramifications of this include:

Unable to understand when someone puts themself in danger by defending him from a physical threat

Very confused when people ask him for an opinion

Wouldn't be able to recognise his own face in mirrors if he could see

Generalised depersonalisation / ' my physical form feels incorrect / defective ' things

#| clinician's opinion :: facts | #tw: depersonalization

[m0rpek0]

this song is very much triggering a derealization and depersonalization moment but holy shit the tiktok trend that goes along with this song is jfjjhdksbfjxbcb

#tw derealization #tw depersonalization #tw: derealization #tw: depersonalization #Spotify

[dimension-hopping-idiot]

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

i never really think about who i am on the inside

if i think too hard, then i'll remember that i can't remember anything unimportant

i just want to be a person again

i dont want to be a character

...was i ever a person?...

...i can't even remember what i look like...

#tw: derealization #tw: depersonalization #ooc: i think those tags are right

[muerteporfavor]

I failed yesterday.

I hate the person I see in the mirror, the clothes I see in the closet, the bookshelf I've owned since elementary school, the room that isn't technically mine but also is all the same.

I had an interview today. I think it went well. It's good pay, the company is part of a union, I have hope in that regard but not much else. I almost didn't go at all because all my clothes were wrong and then last minute I just went business casual instead. (An outfit I have for professional reasons, but the pants are from an 8th grade transfer ceremony and the shirt is from when I needed a last minute light colored shirt for a fraternity meeting because I was very briefly apart of a coed fraternity during my first year of college. I didn't recognize that girl back then either.)

I can't wear makeup right now because every time I try it causes irritation in my eyes every since I got pink eye. I hate how unfamiliar I look without it. Like somehow I am less me without it, like I've lost a part of myself. Perhaps I did. Is that so wrong? Maybe it is.

I want to curl up in bed and read fanfic and listen to sad music.

I want to book a airbnb two cities over for the weekend and walk around a market and maybe sit in a cafe and read and write. Write for the joy of it not for a goal. Maybe see the boy who lives there I've been talking to for almost a year, probably not because I'm at a low and I don't want him to see me like that as our first meeting. (Also because he is so busy the idea that I would manage to pick the perfect weekend for him to meet is kind of unrealistic.)

My friendships feel like they are crumbling but I can't tell if it's real or imagined. Will I have to start over again? It feels like this happens far too frequently (every few years) for it to be mere coincidence. Perhaps there is something wrong with me. Maybe it's the mimicry. The way I only do something because the other person did it. (They start sending me video messages instead of texts so I do too, etc.) Maybe it's because if they get too close, want to see each other too often, I feel like I've lost myself because the true me is holed up alone. Either in coffee shops or bookstores or libraries. Living in my mind alone.

I love being alone more than most people. I can go on four day trips alone and not talk to another soul other than brief interactions and feel perfectly fine. Not lonely. Happy. Peace. However, when I feel my connections slipping from my grasps I wonder if I'm not doing enough. But enough for them feels like removing my happiness. I don't want to meet up three days in a row for an entire afternoon each time as we flounce around to different stores and buy things we don't necessarily need.

Or the way I start to become reliant on the routine so much I stop running errands alone like I used to. Now I run errand with a person and I don't want to be like that. Only traveling, only running errands when there is others to follow me on the journey. Sometimes life is meant to be walked alone. And it isn't lonely. It's calming.

I love being in my head. Sure I have bad days where being in my head feels like a death sentence, we all do. Or at least all anxious people do.

I could just ask. If they hate me. But usually all that does is invite lies and bearing my weakness of self on display for others to see. Which is embarrassing because it only ever seems to make things worse. Or it did. I don't know. I just have to wait and see I guess.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock. The clock keeps ticking anyway.

Muerte Por Favor

#tw: depression #depression #muerteporfavor #rumination #I'm just so tired #i should just keep moving #but i don't want to #at least i went to the interview #and i returned a pair of pants that i needed to #at least i did all that #if nothing else #i told myself i'd travel a bit before getting another job #perhaps i'll answer that promise before it's too late #tw: depersonalization #writing #writblr

[vixensofdeath]

the urge to die and become nothing becomes stronger every day

#bpd stuff #actually bpd #actually mentally ill #bpd symptoms #mental problems #mentally fucked #actually borderline #borderline blog #bpd problems #bpd struggles #tw depressing stuff #tw sui ideation #tw sui vent #tw vent #depressing quotes #depersonalization #tw self destructive thoughts #tw self destruction #i hate it here #major depressive disorder #bpd #tw depressing thoughts #bpd things #depressing life #bpd thoughts #bpd shit #bpd traits #depressing shit #bpd mood #personality disorder