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scytheknite · 14 days

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F*ck

This day, in this moment, I'm not sure where we belong. I never know where home is. I never feel like I am truly wanted. I fuck up every relationship I develop. I just want to take Aurora and run to a beautiful country with amazing food and culture. Every person that cares for me ends up getting hurt in one way or another. Even those that say they will be with me- I know its temporary. There will never be a being that commits to me and accepts all of who I am. I'm alone. Most stay around just long enough to gain what they need or until I drive them away. I find myself constantly fighting for a space in this world.; always looking for a feeling of contentment and undying friendship. There is never a direction to go that makes sense. Everyone I Love gets hurt near me. I have become a living being of Karma. It has become a lonely life. It always was and continues to be so. My family doesn't want or need me near; the loves I've found always leave or push me away. Even my friends that I thought would be there till the end are nowhere to be found. Due to my own actions; No denying that. I wonder if I will ever find a home that I just belong in. A home that will keep me, love me and support me. My sexual encounters are always measured by what the other person is willing to accept. My intimate relationships are thereby controlled by their willingness to participate in a consistent connection with a being such as me. It's unfortunate: but who am I to judge them... I couldn't say that I would make a different decision if I was in their position. I was born unloved. Raised almost as a competition; and will most likely never be truly wanted. A child born of force, tossed around to those that did not want the responsibility; and now an adult: shuffled from home to home consistently unwanted and undesired. I do wonder if ill find a home for us. A place we can call home and just be content. This life is lonely; Never able to truly express how I feel without others finding a reason to blame me for the emotions i've developed from their actions. It's difficult to be the person that forces others to see their truth. Being a karmatic being is not something I would wish upon another. We are hated and haunted. We are the reflection and confirmation of the things people choose not to assert. A force of heaven and hell that most are unable to accept. I lose control and say F*ck it. Why care when they don't? Why put in the effort when it's always going to bite me in the ass? I occasionally wonder if I had not been born// how peaceful and successful others' lives would be. There's not much here for me. The friends I've found are gone, the family i was born into is dismissive; Hell, even my cat prefers other people to me. Being alone seems... safer. For others and me, most don't deserve what I have to offer hell or heaven alike. Looking for a sense of purpose and placement has become almost defeating. After so long one starts to wonder if this life is even one worth living. It's become a bigger hassle to exist than to simply not. I'm not saying I don't bite my own self in the ass; it would just be nice to have someone. Just one person to call my own and be open with: truly soul matched. To a point where no one else matters and we have each other; I don't see it becoming a possibility. People pretend to accept you as you are; yet they always have something to say when you're gone. Sh*t; I'm guilty of it myself. I'm scared- and I'm rarely afraid of anything in this life. I know I can destroy and create lives for myself time and time again. Its sad though. To feel alone and have no one to genuinely express myself to. It's always a double-edged sword trusting someone and giving them your truth. To constantly wonder if the friend you have made is really just Foe; its a battle of the ages. One never knows if the people they entrust with their darkness and light will just dismiss or abuse you. Cheers.

#grunge #lost #lookingforpurpose #tryingtofindwhereibelong #unsure #isitalljusttemporary?

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no-ctrl · 7 months

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I miss you Israel. I’ve been alone for almost 3 years waiting for you. I’m lonely and I can’t imagine doing this thing we call love with anyone else. I’m so sad whenever I reminisce on our time together especially because in the end it was terrible. The treatment I received was terrible.

“We both drew blood but those cuts were never equal”

I can’t help but feel like you thought I deserved that silence for you to ice me out. I just want what’s best for you and I wish you didn’t have to be so cruel in the end. I hate how the pain you inflicted hurts me to this day. It may be a scar now but it’s a scar I will have to carry with myself for the rest of my life. I wish you felt bad and guilty for what you did to me and how you left me. I can’t help but feel like you don’t care at all. You haven’t even tried to look for me not once Israel. In 5 days we will complete 9 months no contact. I still feel like I��m dying on the inside. Maybe it’s my ego speaking bc you made me feel so small. So undesirable. So ugly. So unlovable. Too damaged. Too unstable. Too much. In the past I was never too anything. I was perfect as I was to you. Then one day it felt as if a switch flipped and you just hated my guts. You did not care regard any of my feelings. You did not care to ghost me. You did not care to make me feel secure. You did not care at all. I was all of a sudden too much when in reality it was a cry for help that I was not okay. I understand why you could not see beyond yourself to take care of me (you could barely look after yourself) but it doesn’t change the fact I was the one on the receiving end of your neglect your lack of love, care, compassion and consideration. I just wanted you. I did not care the baggage that entailed all I cared was to be by your side especially since you were ripped away from me on several occasions. Yet we are apart now because YOU wanted it. You wanted this separation. It hurts to this day. I wish I was past this point of my hurt but unfortunately the only way I can ‘get over ‘ it is by going through it. I wish I didn’t miss you. I wish I wasn’t constantly haunted by you. Why have I had 2 dreams about you recently? Not only have I had 2 dreams about you but in both dreams you were mean to me, mistreating me. Why am I the one suffering? The last texts I sent to your number literally say ‘I’m here to support you and I will offer my help in anyway I can’ you had it laid out Israel. Why was it not enough? I wish I can ask you these things but I can’t. There just no way I can ever talk to you. This damage is irreversible. You don’t even reach out that’s what kills me. That’s why I hate myself. You saw me at my worst but I can’t help but think that’s why you ran. Was it my mental instability? Was it my fat body? Was it my acne filled face? What was it? What tipped you off israel? What made this time different? What made you be so cruel in the end? Why did you not care? You made me feel like scum and I can’t help but feel like it was intentional. I wish you the best and I wish you an amazing future. I wish you never forget me. I’m the person that only wanted the best for you Israel. I love you. I miss you. Please take care.

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 2 years

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I hate Valentine’s Day. As a child in school it was a reminder I was unpopular. Kids were supposed to give ALL their classmates little cards, but I got skipped surprisingly often. Worse, I’d sometimes get the card meant asan insult, like “Ohhh, let’s give the fat girl the one with a pig on it!” kind of thing. As a teen it reminded me I was undesirable. No longer required to give people cards, girls still ended up with tons of them. It even became a fad for mothers to send their daughters flowers to be delivered in class, anonymously of course. Somehow it always seemed that by the end of the day I was the only girl with nothing at all.

As an adult I tried to come to peace with it. Alright, so I am unlovable to anyone outside my family, but at least I had them. Familial love is good. It wonderful. Any love is wonderful. But I still would feel it sting. See, contrary to popular belief, I actually am not ace. People used to actually say I was “above” such things, assuming based on loopy ideas of intellectual and morality they had projected on me because of grades and politeness. I ranted once that they thought I was some nun cloistered away in a tower, studying late into the night, above earthly concerns. But fuck that! I ached for sex and romance just like most of them! So Valentine’s Day would remind me no one ever takes an interest in me, that only unrequited love would be what I could have. Except, like I said, the love of family. I needed to remind myself of that. Non-romantic love of all kinds matters. I worked very, very hard to let that be all that I thought about. Giving each other cards and candy and hugs. Just hold onto that.

A part of me still hoped “one day”. I wanted what my parents had. They adored each other, partners in every way from the 1950s until the day Pop died. The day he died..

Pop didn’t die on Valentine’s Day, they just sent him to my brother’s to die on that day. I rode with him in the ambulance. He gave me a Valentine’s pen they gave him at the hospital, his last gift for me. I kissed him and told him I loved him. I drove home to feed the animals, knowing I’d see him early as I could get there Sunday morning.

I never saw him alive again. Valentine’s Day. The last time I saw my father. And that was the beginning of the end. Pop was the lynchpin if our lives. Emotionally and practically.

The business shut down. Huge bills had to be paid, so most the woods had to be logged. The houses and appliances all started to break down. Floors collapsed, roofs leaked, pipes froze and snapped. Mom fell into a depression where she cared about nothing. Friends all disappeared. Then more close family started dying. When Mom had her stroke and had to stop living here with me it wasn’t even the final straw. I guess there won’t be a “final straw” until I die too.

That day sort of marked the no turning back point. It was the end to any sort of security or comfort. It wasn’t the beginning of the downhill slide, just the place there stopped being any chance to climb back out.

Valentine’s Day, for me, has become all about loneliness, isolation, grief, rejection, and despair. Not having anyone to give me a card or box of chocolate I can deal with. Knowing I don’t even rank a “how are you doing?”, when honestly I’m not doing great, is what gets me. ****sigh****

I tried to stay busy today, but everything seemed to remind me of what I wanted to avoid. I’m surrounded by things connected to people I loved or tasks that would be so much better with someone to share it with. I got sick of crying.

Instead I made some brownies with extra flavor from some cherry vodka that’s been lying around forever**. I may not have made brownies in a couple years, but today seems like a good day to make myself sick with chocolatey sweetness. If you get queasy enough you can forget to be sad!

Puking sounds better than crying right now! LOL

**Long story. Mom bought it for a recipe. She never drank, I almost never drink, and six or seven years later it has been sitting there waiting.

#valentine’s day #valentines day #sad #my day #grief #rambles

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master-sass-blast · 5 years

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Planning Pains

Whoooo boy. Gonna have to slap a big ol’ trigger warning on this one.

Summary: You attempt to start planning your upcoming wedding with Piotr --and run into a major emotional wall instead.

Rating: T for adult language, past child abuse, mentions of abuse, trauma from said abuse, and just a lot of anger, angst, and emotional pain.

Set after ‘Questions and Answers’ and before ‘The Literal Crack Fic.’

Also

TRIGGER WARNING: If you’ve got any hang ups on your ability to be loved or be in a relationship (which I absolutely understand and am not judging anyone for because I went through the same stuff as a teenager), this may not be the fic for you! This fic deals extensively with being led to believe that you (as the character of the Reader, not you irl obvs) weren’t worthy of being loved and the trauma that extended from that, and even if you haven’t suffered the abuse and gaslighting that I’ve detailed for the CHC, it’s heavy.

Obviously, y’all are fully capable of making your own grown-ass decisions, but I wanted to put it out there. Just in case.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @starman-thorsus-canos-jock

(Want to be added to the taglist? Send me a DM! Seriously, DM me, I don’t trust Tumblr’s ask box system or reblog notification system to catch everything lol.)

You should be able to do this. You’re smart. You’re capable. You help herd around a bunch of malcontent mutant teenagers and take down various groups of mutant criminals or groups planning to enact crimes against mutants –and the former is arguably more dangerous than either of the latter. You can make pancakes without burning down the kitchen –and have an edible product by the end of it (though the overall “pancake” appearance is largely questionable)!

You can fucking fly, for fuck’s sake. Know how many people can do that? A significantly small number, and they need planes or fancy equipment to do it, the chumps.

(Alright, that last point may be a little moot due to your mutation set, but still.)

Point stands: you are a confident, competent, capable adult, who is capable of accomplishing many different things with varying but usually large amounts of success.

So, why is it you can’t plan your own wedding?

You’re staring down at one of the tables in the library; you’d opted to set up in there for the sake of space, so you could spread everything out and get a good look at all of it, but now you’re thinking that was a mistake because the sheer amount of everything only makes it that much clearer that you don’t know what you’re doing.

Venues. Catering options. Invitations. Cake. Flowers. Wedding dress. Bridesmaids dresses. More cake. Music. Groom’s suit and groomsmen’s suits. Cake again. Rings, vows, honeymoon reservations, wedding party details, finding a minister, finding a house, or maybe an apartment, legal name changes—

It’s all too much. Even something simple, like picking what flowers you like, is impossible because…

Because you never even thought someone would want to marry you. For nearly your entire life, you were told that you were a monster, whole-heartedly undesirable, and because of that you never even dreamed about what a wedding for you might look like. Not even once.

And, as a result, you’ve got absolutely nothing in mind for what you might even want.

And it’s making you furious.

Because you should’ve been able to dream about your wedding –or even if in some alternate timeline, you never wanted one, you shouldn’t have been so beaten down that you couldn’t even fathom someone finding you desirable, let alone worthy of committing to.

You’re shaking in your seat, hands trembling as rage courses through you. The longer you stare at everything in front of you, the more helpless you feel, and the angrier you get.

Fuck your parents. Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them, fuck them fuck them fuck themfuckthemfuckthem—

“Hey, Y/N.” Russell grabs your shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

You realize that you’re basically angry-sobbing in your seat, glaring at all the wedding planning materials while you tremble all over.

Yukio materializes on your other side and hugs you gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t!” Russell protests. “She’s crying over a picture of shoes!”

“A lot of women do that.”

“Should we get Piotr?” Ellie asks, ever the voice of reason.

You nod, largely beyond words at this point as you try to wipe off your face and reign yourself in a little now that there are people in the room with you.

Ellie and Yukio head off to track down your fiancé, but Russell stays behind, sitting next to you and gently holding your hand while you –unsuccessfully—try to calm down.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “It’s gonna be okay. Colossus’ll be here soon.”

You nod, trying to soothe him more than you are yourself at this point, because –honestly—you’re just so angry. It’s like a wound you never realized you had is now ripping open, deeper and deeper, tearing through you until you can’t breathe and all you can do is bleed and rage—

How dare they.

Betrayal. Pure and simple. Betrayed by your parents, betrayed by the town you grew up in, betrayed by the members of the church you were dragged to every Sunday and Wednesday…

Week after week, a community of adults bore witness –to the anti-mutant sermons you were forced to listen to, to the times were the kids in the middle school and high school youth groups would bully you even though you were barely out of first grade yet, to the growing fear with which you reacted to your parents, to the times where you were dragged back to your home by men toting rifles after you’d tried to run away, to the bruises that covered your arms from your father’s abuse, to the bags under your eyes from constantly being afraid and upset, to how you retreated further and further inside yourself as your parents bore down harder and harder on you…

And they did nothing. No one, not once, ever looked at you and decided that you deserved protecting because you were just a kid and couldn’t control your genetic make-up.

How fucking dare they.

You didn’t deserve to hate yourself, you didn’t deserve to feel worthless, you didn’t deserve to believe that you were so unlovable that you’re completely lost at sea in the face of planning your own fucking wedding—

And then Piotr’s kneeling next to you and drawing you into his arms. He’s in his uniform and armored up –he must’ve been overseeing training sessions, and now you feel bad for having inadvertently interrupted him.

“Tische, myshka.” He gently lifts you into his arms, then says something to Ellie before carrying you out of the library.

You wind your arms around his neck and bury your face in the shoulder piece of his uniform. You’re still shaking, borderline hyperventilating as you try to cope with the sheer level of wrath coursing through you. How dare they, how fucking dare they; I was a kid!

And then you’re in the bedroom you share with Piotr.

You’re vaguely aware that the teens have followed you and that they’re setting the wedding stuff on the desks, and then they’re leaving and closing the door behind them—

And then it’s just you and Piotr.

“What’s wrong, myshka?” Piotr murmurs. He armors down before sitting on the bed, carefully settling you in his lap so he can nestle you in his arms. “What has you upset?”

What you want to say is that you’re upset and enraged over the mistreatment you suffered as a child, and that it still extends so far into your life that you’re finding yourself unable to help plan your own wedding because you literally have zero ideas on what you want due to being abused for so long.

What comes out, however…

“I hate them,” you seethe as you sit back. “I hate them so fucking much. I was just a kid, I didn’t fucking deserve to be their punching bag—”

Fortunately, Piotr knows you well enough –and the tragic story of your upbringing—that he can decipher from your rambling that you’re upset about your family. He frowns, sad and concerned, and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I am so sorry, moya dusha.”

“I didn’t deserve it,” you insist, almost frantically, as tears sting your eyes. “I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t fucking deserve it—”

“Konecho net. Never.” He draws you back into his arms, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back and generally doing whatever he can to soothe you. “You never deserved how they treated you. You never could, and you never will.”

You sob brokenly against your fiancé’s chest. “I can’t even plan my own wedding, Piotr! I don’t even know what I want it to look like!”

And then it all comes pouring out –the panic you’d felt in the library, how it’d morphed into fury as you realized what was causing your utter lack of ideas for your upcoming wedding, how the teens had found you in there, borderline hyperventilating as you’d stared at all the wedding stuff.

Piotr, for his part, just holds you and kisses the top of your head over and over again. “I am so sorry, moya lyubov’. Had I known you would have felt this kind of distress, I would have not left you to work on our wedding details alone.”

“But aren’t most brides supposed to plan the wedding?” you ask as you sniff inelegantly.

“I do not think ‘supposed to’ is right word. I think most brides wind up planning weddings because they have more aesthetic preferences,” Piotr explains. “However, I think it might be better if we work together for most of it. If only so you do not have to deal with your pain alone.”

“But you’ve got job stuff to do,” you whine. “And X-Men stuff, and teacher stuff, and this is gonna take a lot of time—”

“And you are my fiancée and love of my life and future wife and we will find way to make this work,” he insists as he presses his lips against your forehead. “Your well-being is more important than easy schedule.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I just don’t want you to wind up hating me by all the end of this.”

Piotr just holds you tighter and kisses your temple. “Impossible.”

It’s not going to be easy. Even the thought of trying to work on wedding stuff makes your stomach churn with anxiety and unreleased rage.

Nothing in life comes easy, though. And with Piotr by your side –and your friends and newfound family—you know you’ll get through it just fine.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #so much angst #tw: abuse #tw: trauma #tw: gaslighting #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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bruiseswayne · 2 years

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so i think im just gonna use this blog to yell and vent every now and then because i don’t really have someone to talk to without consequences and writing a diary or something like that just feels very empty, like i’m talking to myself and i’m not even listening or something?? but this blog is perfect because it’s public but it’s not popular so it doesn’t feel useless but it also doesn’t become stressful

so don’t worry i’m not in extreme distress or whatever, i don’t need anyone to reach out and talk to me, i don’t need advices, i just really, really need to do the written equivalent of climbing up a roof at night and just scream at the top of my lungs hoping i don’t wake anyone up

holy shit they still do read mores i’m so GLAD

i’ve just been feeling really sad lately? those last therapy sessions i’ve mostly been thinking and talking about why i have such a specific list of things i need to do in my life to ensure i die without regrets, or with as little as possible at least

and the more i think about it the more i realize it’s really just about proving myself and others that they were wrong about me?? like most of my life i’ve been told i was ugly, fat, gross, selfish, stupid, etc etc and it looks like nowadays all i’m doing is trying to become the opposite of that so i never get told that again and i can die knowing i wasn’t that in the end

so i’ve been trying to better myself so so much and it’s not all bad obviously!! because now i’m at least a bit more informed, i’m more considerate than i used to be as a teen for example, and all that stuff. so that’s good

but the whole physical aspect of myself, i can’t change it and i fucking hate that i believe 100% that i am unlovable because of it. it’s not even like “weh im fat nobody likes me” it’s “nobody likes me no matter my weight or attitude because i am just an ugly piece of shit” woops???????

thoughout the years it just felt like i was reminded multiple times that i am practically impossible to love or to be with at the very least, that i’m undesirable and unattractive, and fuuuck i believe it so much and it drives m crazy that i can’t change it unless i go through drastic measures like.... idk, plastic surgery or something

and this fucking non-existent love for myself translates into me seeing too much into everything and making it such a bigger deal than it PROBABLY is but also it just feels so TRUE

like hmmmm how come nobody ever flirts with me? ah right, it’s because i am disgusting!!!! uwu i just realize i’ve always been the one who makes the first steps in all of my relationships or attempts at them. could it be because nobody would approach me otherwise?!?! :V

and deep down i know this is probably far fetched and whatever but BOY DOES MY MIND REALLY ENTERTAIN THE IDEA Y’KNOW and obviously, ideally i should love myself and find myself pretty and whatnot but i dunno, at the same time, why would i??? i’m not even my type???

so at the end of the day i end up lying in bed staring at the ceiling feeling this emptiness but also this anger towards the people who brainwashed me into believing i’ll never be loved and desired and all, and it sucks because i feel like all i’d need is some good, goood closure as i prove them wrong or something but i can’t, because so far, dammit it seems like they’re right LMAO

but let’s be real, even if i DID prove them wrong, what the fuck would it do, right? i don’t think these people even remember me? i don’t think they even think something like “wahaha i sure told her! hopefully that scarred her for life wahoooo” they probably don’t remember it because fuck it was any fucking other day for them

which makes me even ANGRIER that it’s affected me this much and they can just go on and have good lives while i am Here, drowning in self pity

idk i hope someday i can finally forget about these events and look at myself and think “not bad” at least

#shushhoneysindysventing

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lothricshopsathottopic · 3 years

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I really need to get something off my chest. This is really, really long, so forgive me, in advance.

Please, keep in mind I'll be talking about mental illness here - specifically, anxiety and depression - and that might be triggering for you. If so, please, PLEASE skip this post (and if you're having suicidal thoughts, I've compiled a list of hotlines at the end of this post that you can call; skip to the bottom.) I don't want you to hurt yourself by reading this. Go look at some fanart, or watch funny videos, or something. I want you to be well. You deserve to be well, no matter what your mind may tell you; it's lying through its fucking teeth. Trust me.

That having been said: ya'll really need to start tagging posts with triggering subjects appropriately.

I'm saying this because I have been diagnosed with GAD and depression around 8 years ago. For 8 years, my mind was a fucking hellscape; I hated myself, every part of me. I felt like no one really gave a shit about me, like no one would care if I died or disappeared, and that I deserved to die anyway because I was such a shit person.

I've lost count of how many nights I cried myself to sleep; that was just something that happened to me, then. It became routine, just as routine as brushing your teeth is for most people. Speaking of which, I'd spend several days in bed, too, without showering, without brushing my teeth, without changing clothes, without getting up to do anything but go to the bathroom. Some days, I'd eat nothing.

I contemplated suicide several times. I researched ways to make it as painless as possible, the quickest way I could kill myself. I never self-harmed by cutting, or drugs, or alcohol, but I did it in other ways. I deprived myself of food, of water, of sleep, of showering. I beat myself up mentally, as much as possible, as often I could. I didn't want to talk to my friends; I was convinced they all only tolerated me. Whenever I did talk to them, I hid my state of mind so well they always convinced themselves I was fine. I was convinced I was ugly, undesireable and unlovable. This all was despite having been on meds and seeing a psychiatrist regularly.

But worst than the depression, in my opinion, was the goddamn fucking anxiety. Feeling afraid of everything all the time takes an enormous toll on you; it cripples you and stops you from doing things that are normal to most people; sometimes even initiating a conversation was, for me, a mountain impossible to climb. The anxiety made me want to kill myself just as much - if not more - than the depression, because, surely, death couldn't possibly be worse than what my fears turned into likely possibilities in my mind. I was convinced dying would hurt less. Death scared me less than the shit in my head 24/7.

The reasons I held on, were my parents, whom I logically knew love me dearly - even if my mind made me feel like they didn't - and the things I still wanted to experience. I wanted to go to Vegas, and Japan, and Germany, and Norway, and Mexico; I wanted to see the world. I wanted to play all of the games I was excited for, finish all of the ongoing shows and fics I was watching and reading, as well as revisit old media I used to love. I wanted to reread my favorite books. I wanted to have a girlfriend. I wanted to finish my fics in progress, as well as start the ones I'd been thinking about. I wanted to perfect my drawing techniques. I wanted to learn other languages. I wanted to listen to my favorite songs again. I wanted to go swimming again; I've always loved swimming. My parents, my hobbies and entertainment were what made me hold on despite how much I was screaming at myself to give up, and no matter how much people told me my hobbies and passions were worthless. I looked at childhood pictures of myself and saw how happy I was in them; I longed to be happy again. I thought about how sad that little kid would be if she knew her future self would be contemplating suicide. I wanted to believe being this happy again was possible, so I kept going.

Thankfully, I changed psychiatrists. I changed my meds. I got a therapist. Things started to look up again for me. Over two years, I managed to recover from a 8-year long crippling depression. I'm no longer suicidal. I no longer despise every bone in my body. Of course, I have bad days; depression never really goes 100% away. You just end up finding a way to deal with it and make it hurt much less. Meds and therapy are only two of the things that help you with that (though they are crucial.)

One thing that didn't really get better, though, was the anxiety. No matter how much I tried, I was never able to turn my catastrophic thoughts off. The meds suppress them a bit, but depending on the day, they're still way too overwhelming. Meditation doesn't help. Videos and games don't help. The thoughts are always screaming at me, gnawing at the back of my mind, and once they break through and make me notice them, it takes days for them to leave - and even then, they don't leave completely. It's especially worse because you can't control what other people say or do around you; a lot of them know you have an illness, and say triggering stuff anyway, because people don't really understand how debilitating a mental illness can be. I won't lie; sometimes there's still that little bitch at the back of my mind whispering, "if you killed yourself you'd be able to avoid all this scary shit, you know," but I manage to stomp it into nothing most of the time. Still, unfortunately, you can't avoid seeing or hearing triggering things all of the time.

Which brings me to the reason I'm writing this in the first place.

See, you can't control what people say around you, but you can control most of what you see on the internet. Tumblr has a tag filter. I myself use it a lot; to filter out NOTPs or topics I'm not interested in, but mostly, I use it to filter things that'll take away my sleep at night (I actually think there should be an option to completely hide posts containing filtered tags and pretend they don't even exist in the first place, instead of simply showing a message saying that they were blocked, since seeing the message alone already will make me anxious about what the post might contain, but I digress.)

So why is it that I'm still coming across a lot of triggering things on here?

I understand some things might slip. It's not as if I haven't failed to properly tag posts before; I get that you'll sometimes look at something you don't find triggering, and so it won't even cross your mind that it might trigger someone else; sometimes it's something that's, to you, so mundane or banal you can't fathom how it might send someone into an episode or a downward spiral. But mental illness is like that. Different things trigger different people.

I am BEGGING you: PLEASE tag your posts appropriately. It doesn't matter how minor a thing you think it is; if it's a dog post, put the tag "dog" in there. If it's a post about politics, tag it as "politics." If it contains insects, tag it as such. Even if it's a humor-centered post. Tag it anyway.

I know people need to stay informed about important things. That doesn't matter. A lot of people on Tumblr come here to relax or have some fun, and from my personal experience, a lot of us have a history with mental illness, or are struggling with it to this day; a lot of the time it's debilitating. I see a shit ton of suicidal people on here, venting. I used to be one of them.

I use Tumblr to distract myself, to see funny and cute shit. Most of the triggering things here are stuff people already know about anyway; in fact, they're probably bombarded with them everywhere else on the internet. You don't have the right to shove stuff down mentally ill people's throats because you think they need to know it and spread the word, no matter if you're mentally ill yourself. People have the right to choose what they want to see on social media during their leisure time. We know what we can and can't handle. And a lot of us can't handle the news right now. I never could, to be honest, so I always filtered my exposure to it very heavily, but now I find myself avoiding it entirely, because it just sends me into a fit and takes away my sleep. You're not doing us a favor by making us see this shit; you're making our illness worse. There's NOTHING wrong with us deciding that something is too much for us to deal with; we are not ignorant, we are not naive and we are not blissful. In fact, we're very aware of these issues; painfully so. They're probably already eating away at us, and are the reason we try to distract ourselves in the first place. We're avoiding this kind of shit to avoid harming ourselves even further than our mind already harms us. Some of us do this to avoid suicidal urges, even. You cannot take this right from people. You don't get to decide what we should and shouldn't see online; we do. And you don't get to scream at us when we decide not to look at something we KNOW will destroy us.

Of course I'm not saying you SHOULDN'T post and reblog these things; it's your blog. You have the right to post and reblog whatever you want, as long as it doesn't violate the terms of service (i.e. p*rn, gore, bigotry, etc.) But PLEASE have the mindfulness to tag your posts appropriately. It's hard enough for all of us to deal with all this shit every day, let alone right now, let alone during a year that has been, for the most part, a complete shitshow. You never know how many more straws it'll take to break the camel's back. And for the love of Christ, DO NOT yell at us if we decide to focus on the positive and ignore the negative on Tumblr. You never know what a person is going through; focusing on the positive on their social media might be the only way someone's found to fight suicidal urges.

I, unfortunately, felt forced to unfollow people I've followed for years, because the onslaught of posts - a lot of them untagged - that I found triggering, this year, were starting to become overwhelming for me. If any of you are reading this, please don't take it personally. You've done nothing wrong, and you're all wonderful people. I unfollowed you because I thought it best for my mental health and wellbeing, during such a trying time. I really don't have the mental or emotional strength to deal with bad news anymore. I just got better, and I intend to keep myself that way. Seeing all of that is just gonna make me fall into that old hole again, and I don't know if I'll be able to climb back out if that happens. I'll do what I can whenever I can, and, on Tumblr, I'll signal boost donation pages, awareness posts about racism, LGBTQphobia and privilege, and petitions, but when it comes to everything else, I'm focusing on the positive, and my goal with reblogs is to brighten my followers' day if only a little, and signal boost posts asking for help to those who need it. Regardless, I hope you all are doing wonderful, and I wish you all the best.

TL;DR: please, PLEASE tag all of your posts appropriately if you think there might be anything even remotely potentially triggering to someone in them. Mental illness is a very insidious, irrational thing and the smallest crap can send us into a downward spiral that can last days or even weeks. Despite how the term "trigger" has become a meme, triggers are something very real and very debilitating to the vast majority of us who struggle with mental illness. There's nothing funny about real triggers. Please, take your followers' well-being and safety into consideration.

Finally, I feel like I really need to say this: if you're having suicidal thoughts of any kind, PLEASE do not hesitate to call for help. Below is a list of hotlines you can call if you're thinking about killing yourself. Please do not do it, I promise your death would negatively impact someone, and you would be missed. You are loved, you are valid, and you deserve to live and be happy. I know you're probably really fucking tired of hearing this, but it does get better. I thought it never would, but it did, for me. It will for you, too.

Algeria: 0021 3983 2000 58

Argentina: (54-11) 4758-2554

Armenia: (2) 538194

Australia: 131114

Austria: Telefonseelsorge 24/7 : 142 Rat auf Draht 24/7 : 147 (youth)

Bahamas: (2) 322-2763

Barbados: Suicide Hotline: Samaritan Barbados (246) 4299999

Belgium: Suicide Hotline: Stichting Zelfmoordlijn 1813

Bolivia: 3911270

Bosnia & Herzegovina: 080 05 03 05

Botswana: National Lifeline: 3911270

Brazil: 188

Bulgaria: 0035 9249 17 223

Canada: 1 (833) 456 4566

China: 800-810-1117

Colombia: 24/7 Helpline in Baranquilla: 1(00 57 5) 372 27 27 24/7 Hotline Bogota: (57-1) 323 24 25

Cyprus: 8000 7773

Denmark:4570201201

Estonia: 3726558088; in Russian: 3726555688

Finland: 010 195 202

France: 0145394000

Germany: 08001810771

Ghana: 2332 444 71279

Guyana: 223-0001

Holland: 09000767

Hong Kong: 852 2382 0000

Hungary: 116123

India: 8888817666

Indonesia: 1-800-273-8255

Iran: 1480

Ireland: +4408457909090

Israel: 1201

Italy: 800860022

Jamaica: 1-888-429-KARE (5273)

Japan: 810352869090

Jordan: 110

Latvia: 371 67222922

Lebanon: 1564

Liberia: 6534308

Luxembourg: 352 45 45 45

Malaysia: (06) 2842500

Malta: 179

Mauritius: +230 800 93 93

Mexico: 5255102550

Netherlands: 900 0113

New Zealand : 1737

Nigeria: 234 8092106493

Norway: +4781533300

Philippines: 028969191

Poland: 5270000

Portugal: 21 854 07 40 and 8 96 898 21 50

Romania: 0800 801200

Russia: 0078202577577

Saint Vincent and the Grenadines: (9784) 456 1044

Serbia: (+381) 21-6623-393

Singapore: 1 800 2214444

Spain: 914590050

South Africa: 0514445691

South Korea: (02) 7158600

Sri Lanka: 011 057 2222662

Sudan: (249) 11-555-253

Sweden: 46317112400

Switzerland: 143

Thailand: (02) 713-6793

Tonga: 23000

Trinidad and Tobago: (868) 645 2800

United Arab Emirates: 800 46342

United Kingdom: 08457909090

United States: (800) 273-8255

If you know of any I've forgotten, please don't be afraid to let me know. I'll add it to the list.

Stay safe, everyone.

#vent #long #personal #trigger warning #tw #triggers #tw: suicide #tw: depression #tw: mental illness #mental health #tags #tw: self-harm #tw: GAD #actually depressed #actually suicidal #actually anxious #Tumblr posts #serious #hotlines

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