#so i've just been disassociating hard core

[lericekrispie]

Worldbuilding on Fauna

This was supposed to be a Vyncent headcannon list, but I ended up just talking about Fauna instead. Enjoy!

I tried to do some very surface level research into what Asian decent Vyncent could be based off, and the closest I found that matched was Mongolia. All my research is very shallow, please don't take my word as law, but from what I've gathered is that they are from a cold climate, with rich traditions. They are traditionally nomadic, have extensive and rich cultures in arts, music, and dance. They have unique architecture called a yurt. They had woodcarving, metalworking, embroidery, and weaving. Men and women both wore skirts and pants. They had meat like mutton, and beef, and herded sheep, goats and yaks. They had horse racing, wrestling, and archery. The games they played were chess and checkers, dominos, rock paper scissors, and puzzles.

Deriving from this, I believe that Vync-

likes music without lyrics, because English is his second language and it's hard to keep up, and most of his music back home was mostly instrumental anyways

wears gender non-conforming clothes

used to help herd animals while the older adults hunted. He knows how watch a flock, and has also sat in fields for long times just staying alert. B/c of this, his stake out abilities are top notch. He can disassociate like a pro and probably has ADHD. (head empty fr fr)

is really good at traditional board games, and always wins. He also likes puzzles, even if he is stupid sometimes and has to get help. He likes fidget toys. He likes video games as well, but because he grew up without technology he is horrendous at them. He still loves games and puzzles though so he still tries. Will and Dakota try to help him with some video games, but Vync likes the single player games the most bc he doesn't feel left in the dust when playing with his friends.

can tell when clothing is cheap and of bad material/craftsmen ship, and because of such he has a picky taste in quality. (his preferred fashion is maximalism and weird-core) (He has sensory issues fr fr)

Also, he lives on a floating island. We didn't see a horrible lot of worldbuilding b/c the world building was... well, destroyed in an apocalypse. I wanted to expand a little on that as well. What I think would be cool and good worldbuilding is if every Great is from a different island, and each island as a different climate/elf species.

Remember, all floating islands are flavored to be close in culture to a general overview of Mongolia culture, or in cannon, some East Asian culture.

The Lush Island

Vyncent comes from an island that is more traditional. It's smaller, and the communities are like tight knit families. Their climate gets very cold in the winter, so the weird fae-magical elf evolution would be the small predator animals that people sometimes draw for Vync as a headcannon. Small predator animals include cats, foxes, small predator birds, and sometimes dogs. It helps to be adapted to traverse in the snow, as they have two seasons, 'Dormant' and 'Bloom', basically Winter and Spring. Their Blooms is very abundant and full of festivals and celebrations, with long sunny days that could be disrupted by powerful storms. Dormant is even more brutal and dangerous, and what they prepare for during Bloom, so that they have stored food to survive the freeze. The traditional way of life has been very well preserved, that a lot of old techniques of artisans that would have been lost to time have been preserved. They have expert woodcarvers, metal workers, embroidery and weaving. Vyncent's sword was made on his island, and is part of why it's so powerful.

The Convergence Island

Strider is a rouge, wears a cloak, is mysterious and brooding. Strider would come from a island that has a larger community, because then there would be a reason for crime/stealing and or being a vigilante. The community would have to be large enough that there is animosity, so his island might be known as the 'City' island. This would be a market intersection, like Riptide's 'All-Port'. There is a strong Tribal Government there, with a clear Chief rather than just local figureheads and Respect for Elders. There is hoarding from the rich and people trying to build their lives from the ground up. Think ' The American Dream'. It's mostly a scam, but sometimes if your lucky you can make it big. Because of the city the island is a melting pot of multiple different elf evolutions, but the native's to the island have evolved to fit a more lavish, modern life, growing very tall, slim, and frail. They speak softer and less rushed, are often physically weaker, and have features for social evolution and not survival evolution (think classical faries and fae, with big buggy eyes and eyelashes, high cheekbones, slender faces, shimmery skin, slender soft hands, long hair and well kept hygiene.)

The Sunlight Island

Alphonz is the paladin. He wears a lot of heavy armor, so I believe his island would also metalworkers, the main suppliers of such. They are also a very religious community, with religious leaders controlling the tides rather than political. Their island would be the highest up, to be the closest to whatever the equivalent of 'heaven' would be. Of course, the evolution of the highest island would be wings, but most wings are made for gliding rather than flying because of body mass and energy and whatnot. Because of this, most people from this island can find jobs elsewhere as messengers. These people often get around to other islands eventually in their lives, and are known to be wanderers. They are closest to the sun so they have very thick eyelashes and undereye markings to protect them from the sunlight, and the darkest skin. They have a lot of intense flowers and foliage because the closeness to the sun. Their waterfalls from the top of their island run into the other islands below.

The Sunken Island

Min is a mage, and uses a lot of water themed magic. Because of this, I believe Min's island would be more like a bowl full of water, and most of the people would live in underwater domes, or on small floating islands. The people who live here would have evolved to be semi-aquatic, with features like frogs, dragonflies, fish, and such. Their island would be abundant with a fishing culture and magic, with huge coral structures and beautiful vibrant colors. The island would also be more traditional, much like Vyncent's.

The Badland Island

Ram is our beloved gunslinger, so obviously his island would be like the wild west. Enough said. Think riding horses, saloons, outlaws and sheriffs. The evolutions would be close to hooved creatures, like goats, antelope, deer, rams, horses, things like satyrs and centaurs. Because of the harsh and vast amount of lands these elves need to travel, these evolutions save time and their feet as they traverse the difficult terrain.

The Wildlands Island

Chungus is a the barbarian, very strong and almost a gentle giant. I believe this island would be very much so like Vyncent's, but much harder to live in, in terms of monsters. I think Vyncent's island would have more difficult natural weather and disasters, while Chungus would face a lot more monsters and ruffians. Because of this, the elven evolution would be to match monsters strength a take form of large predator animals, like wolves, cougars, bears, and such, while Vyncent's island would only need to evolve to smaller predator animals for hunting, such as foxes and cats and such. (Chungus would be a bear.)

The Hellfire Island

Finally, Grayson. Grayson is described as having Dragon armor, so why not just go all the way and say the elven evolution is dragon-like. This island would be the hardest to live on, full of flames and lava, basically like a floating volcano. This island would be closest to the surface, and speaking of surface-

Surface

The idea of the surface is that it is basically hell. It's where the lich comes from, it's full of hell fire, screaming damned, zombies and undead and such. The closeness to the surface dictate how dangerous your island is. The position of your island means a lot.

From Top to Bottom

The Sunlight Island -Is reaping the rewards of lush wildlife, but has to deal with extreme weather, sun, and temperatures.

The Sunken Island -is practically unaffected by weather and monsters because they live mostly underwater. Very peaceful. Uninhabitable by people who are not native.

The Convergence Island -In the top middle. The monsters here are the people. Have to deal with extreme weather.

The Lush Island -Reaps the rewards of lush wildlife, has to deal with extreme weather and temperatures, as well as some monsters.

The Wildlands Island -Deals less with weather and temperature, but more with monsters.

The Badland Island -as we get closer to 'hell' basically, the weather get's dry-er and hot-er. There isn't extreme storms, but instead harsh constant heat. Has to deal with monsters, as well as elven criminals. Most intelligent monsters and criminals set up bases here. The largest landmass. (we can never truly escape Texas)

The Hellfire Island -A step up from 'hell'. Has to deal with monsters all day long. The people here are built from blood and spit, metal and nails. Life expectancy is short here, but the people take pride in being the first line of defense for the other islands, are often talented warriors who hunt monsters to allow the rest of the islands to prosper.

It's hard to get to island to island. Sometimes you can because of your adaptations, sometimes you can find a way to safely fall to a lower island. Sometimes you can find a mage who can transport you. It is more common to go down than up. That's why Vyncent's dad was so impressive.

Father Sol

Father Sol was the leader of the group. With this worldbuilding, I think it would be cool if he embarked on a mission to build a party that could defend against a brewing monster from the Surface, The Lich and his forces. So Father Sol went from island to island, searching for the most powerful person from each to make a party. This alone is a feat, for traversing islands is very difficult, most only go to one once in their lives, and most of the time it's a permeant move. You often don't return. It's no wonder The Greats are well known, doing something such as what they did, going from island to island, even without the stories of their deeds and just the feat of traveling islands alone is something to behold and would be talked and gossiped about until they were legends. But on top of that were the adventures they had on each island, of Father Sol having to earn the trust and respect of each powerful warrior for them to join the party. I can already image in the classic Dnd shenanigans, battles, and hero adventures they would have. And to have them fail at the very end.

And all of this we never get to see because it get's destroyed. By the very monsters The Greats gathered to fight against. They lost. They weren't strong enough.

Now. Imagine, Vyncent has to make a choice between staying between Prime and Fauna. He chooses Prime, for his friends. His life is there right now, that's what he tells himself. He can always go back. He has unfinished business on Prime.

What he doesn't say is the pain that is in his heart, looking at his home that once used to be lush and full of life, full of smiles and memories, destroyed. Seeing his people broken and torn by the worst possible thing that could have happened to them. To see his people go from living in community villages full of flowers and celebration to hiding underground like rats. It hurts. It's painful to look at all the despair and pain. Knowing that things probably wouldn't go back to normal, at least in his lifetime.

He's a coward when he stays in Prime. He's not strong enough to go back. He wishes he was. But he isn't.

#jrwi podcast #jrwi #jrwi show #jrwi pd #jrwiblr #jrwi vyncent #jrwi headcanon

[incarnateirony]

At least she's confessing she takes handfuls of mhi pills now. Instead of pretending she's okiedokie it's just ADHD. Now if only she would look at that, then look at the last pinned post and her playlist, then look at reality, then let me go. So here we go trying again, condensed.

Yo, crazy lady with the handful of pills who's inner self she keeps disassociating so she can ride my dick and have zero accountability, that inner logic brain self told her to go to therapy. Read it again.

Whether or not you accept it, that is reality and the core of your problems. Every fundamental you think of Hermes, was just me understanding myself THROUGH Hermes because I was actually following his path, and you leaned it all on me.

That is LITERALLY there due to your attachment to the way our characters met in roleplay, that is the only reason it is there. End of fucking story. Remember my name, you goddamn know it.

Now you're gonna get mark and your other misled pals all the way off.

If you want to try to learn Hermes, that's fine, but you gotta learn HIM, not me. Khaire has a beautiful, unique, but appropriate playlist. Yours is a mess of old albums I all referenced, it is literally my old vibe list, again.

Giiiiirl. Girl it should not be so hard to dump you that I've made a bootstrap paradox trying to get the fuck rid of you. Why the fuck are you acting this brain damaged, I don't know how many pills you have to take on a day, you posted your playlist with some accidental prompt lucidity, thinking you were being annoying, only to give me your heartsong key and show it's... still fuckin mine, mostly.

YOU WANT TO FOLLOW HERMES, THEN FOLLOW HERMES, NOT A SHADOW OF ME YOU'VE GRAFTED YOUR UNDERSTANDING TO. HE WAS LITERALLY MY WRITTEN SHADOW PROCESSING BLOC GIRL.

Your ENTIRE UNDERSTANDING of him comes from trying to shortcut across my own path and my own identity, and "Secrets" being so high on your list only to descend into the rest literally quantifies that. Maam every moment wasn't divine inspiration, it was my own soul trying to find who it was in this life, as it is for everyone, if they listen. And you ran off with that, because you refused any of the work that wasn't roleplay romance or disassociative channeling for attention. And you're still refusing the work now, just coasting on the easy parts!

If you realize you've been on the wrong path YOU HAVE TO GO BACK TO WHERE YOU FUCKED UP, not JUST KEEP WALKING

ATHENA IS SCREAMING BECAUSE YOU ARE TOO BUSY CHASING ME TO LET HER OUT. Therapy is just guided shadow work, hence me working in crisis counseling. Whether people call it that or know the mystic face or not isn't the point, it's the same fucking thing. your Logic Brain is telling you to go to therapy because she's trapped in that Giant Screaming Lady but is among your more accessible levels, maybe Artemis too. She can't fix it, because you won't let her. Your Logic Brain told you to go to therapy so you stop intentionally confusing yourself with my Chaos Brain, which is in fact a different brain, and mine, not yours.

That's why Athena told you to go to fucking therapy. Because she can't help you, because you won't help you, and you won't help each other until you face this very basic truth.

What's got you fucked up is accepting you thought you dumped one of the few Magi that can on command pull off his mask and be him, all of him, everything all at once and everywhere, but also still maintain being myself. And man, that SUCKS for you to have picked a fight with. Or stalked or gotten confused. Or been highly offensive to the ssnakes in the sservice indusstry and the manager. Something about blackscreening from a hidden screen you were thinking about a lot. I have an eight page doc of notes called "stole it from the supervisor, not sorry about it."

Yo crazy lady in the wet bear suit with the handful of pills and the therapy because her inner logic brain can't anymore that's arguing with the 20x accredited psych worker and degreed Magus. Yeah you. Why do you think the song we met on, basically, is still in your playlist core, and all the albums I referenced. Lloth of the 10th in red that doesn't know why she got Boo'ed by the spider weilding Pan so vividly. Crazy lady. You.

Lady, you've been dumped by Coyote, and now you gotta set your shit straight with all the other people you've done fucked up and gotten locked on me. You wanna follow him you have to do more than copy me and other people's playlists or my old stories or designs or, literally, my old shadow processing bloc.

We're still fucking doing this? Is it the depth of the entanglement you've cursed your life to, or the embarrassment stopping you more now? Gonna give ALL our secrets away, sweet cheeks.

Some fucking things in life aren't about your motherfucking opinion or personal comfort, princess. Sometimes, we lose things, and sometimes we make mistakes, and those things can't be fixed and won't come back, and it's time to learn to process grief like a fucking adult and face reality, because this is it, this is reality. And you objectively refuse to actually go back and learn Hermes properly from the gate, you don't want to, you WANT to stay clung to me even when our ancestors are screaming, and athena is screaming, and your inner broken self is overall screaming, and I'm screaming, and you still won't fucking listen, let me go, or learn over right, you just keep doubling down on a path you fucking admitted was wrong without turning around.

I REGRET TO INFORM YOU IT TAKES MORE THAN CHANGING YOUR BLOG TITLE TO CHANGE YOUR PATH.

This shit is literally my experience with you harassing me at any possible angle for the last three years since our breakup, begging for my motherfucking attention, and maybe you hadn't noticed, there's a lot of Cat metaphors going on.

BUT UR NEW ICONS ARENT ALL RAINBOW HAIR. well yeah. I started basing them after my appearance at the time fused to the other elements. That and, Coyote was a fractal part of a whole. There was still Ash's mess and the rest to unpack. That, all of that, is me and my history and family and lineage and right, and you fucking have your own but you keep trying to ride on mine. Yeah there's a crazy disco lights rocker in here, but he's actually unified with an old gambler staring at you and squinting, woman. Hey. Hey Lady. Guess what it's all of them all at once, and that makes me. What's not clicking. Now fucking do yours. Now will you consider hopping off me long enough for sis to actually give you a hand?

Girl it's time to accept "Min" knew you were full of shit for at least a few years before we broke up. And was all but over you. But made you a series of promises, and intended to keep them, even if it was slowly killing me. And it still is, just largely and rapidly now. Because I/she/me/whatever you want to disassociate your ex lover to are still keeping that promise. You won't let us go, so we're still technically with you, so we're making it so you don't have to do the Work and are doing whatever you need to be provided for. You know, promise 3, getting you out, even if that's just Athena and a new installation for her that actually fucking functions. You not liking what that looks like is somewhere among a plethora of personal problems.

Big brain time Shea. Imagine if Ash and Coyote DNA digivolved as one anthropologically coherent legacy become personage and X-crossed into someone that used to call themselves Min, and then you managed to piss them the collective and him the singular off by being a veil of conscious and willful delusion fuckin stalking abusive llothian shadow cultist fucking up Athena, Artemis, and Selene all at once. Try that hat on, cocaine bear. Brian was always my chaos brain. Niekai was always your logic brain. Why are you fighting this.

Someone sure the fuck is in the giant shitbowl you keep trying to ignore happening. We've been in code blue for hours.

Huh wonder why this is.

I'd like my mask back. All the way. No halfs this time. Those are my air jordans, my songs, my works, my stories. Running from the octopus jibberish was just the first bandaid ripped off. Your castle of glass is going to break. The thing you're only a crack in. Funny. That song's not mine. But I, too, reflect energy.

Call me thee crustdaddy, honest papa lotus, the angels are laughing and saying be mushroom funny guy.

Fuckin sorry everybody I started going code red for a second there but switched tracks, we're good now.

#piratecandyrumpockyridingsniffmakesbuttrumhoopleborpna #i make uplifting emotional abuse music #my gun so big the matrix had to reload it #just stop stealing my shit homegirl hashtag magus #you put copyright symbol on other people's work and are still connected to me psycho #Youtube

[systemexploration]

okay uhm this is gonna be hard to explain but i'll do my best. if you need a better explanation just say so and i'll send another anon ask. i'm on anon because i'm too scared to ask on my main blog.

i've been questioning lately if i'm a system. i've started disassociating and derealising more often, and i've realised i have multiple personalities. but not in the way that we're seperate people. it's like... they're just different personas that front depending on the situation. they all have their own pronouns, they all have their own appearance, they speak differently, they handle situations differently, but i just... don't feel like i'm an actual system.

for example, i have a 'true self' alter, a school alter, a 'trauma holder' alter, a punk riot-y alter, a 'cringe' alter, and a 'vent' alter.

i feel more aligned with the term Multiple Personality Disorder because that's all we really are, multiple personalities. i feel more like a work in progress, or still developing system, if that makes any sense. i'm also autistic so i was thinking it might just be masking, but it feels deeper than that. i don't really have a headspace that i can go to, they don't communicate as if they were seperate people, and i'm just so confused.

i don't know where i belong or what's wrong with me. we feel like a singlet in the way we work, but i know from other people that this absolutely isn't normal, and that something is very wrong. i have a decent amount of childhood trauma but i don't remember a lot of it, and i also don't remember ever feeling like this when i was younger. also, the trauma is from multiple sources.

i can't get therapy or any sort of treatment because of my parents, so all i've had to work with is a few systems i've met irl, some systems i follow, and a lot of articles about it.

sorry if this is a bit of an infodumpy rant/vent, and also sorry if i'm being an annoyance or you don't know how to help.

i guess the tldr of this is; i feel like a system but like only half a system. my alters don't feel like seperate people, more like different personas. i'm also autistic so maybe it's just masking?

i am grateful for any advice you can give, any labels/terms you can show me, or any websites/resources you would recommend.

also oh my God i'm so sorry this is formatted/spelled/grammar'ed terribly, my brain just can't process how to explain this mess of a situation.

i hope you have a nice day!

-paperbag, they/he.

sorry this took so long to answer!! we were having some in system problems so typing a lot wouldve been hard /nmay

this sounds a lot like experiences ive heard from median systems! i want to preface this post with saying: we are not a median system and can only speak on things we have seen from median terms or things median systems have said. if any median system sees this post please feel free to correct or add things!!

heres the pluralpedia link: https://pluralpedia.org/w/Median but ill talk about it too

there is definitely a change you could be a "wip system" but you saying "half system" and "my alters dont feel like separate people more like different personas" sounds a lot like facets which are the headmates in median systems (though ive seen they are sometimes still called alters/headmates)

the "true self" is very similar to a definitions of "core". we have a core but it applies to our headmate that was here before we were plural. but the definition that relates to what you described is

now about the trauma memories, it is possible for median systems to not share all memories. we have certain memories that aren't shared, related to our trauma, but most of our other memories are shared. memory sharing is a spectrum and doesn't need to just be all memories shared or all memories split.

about the headspace, not all systems have headspaces. there are systems with vivid headspaces, systems with semi-vivid headspaces, systems with headspaces that they can only access when not in front, systems with no headspaces, etc.

about the communication, i unfortunately dont know really anything about how median systems communication works. i know that in general, systems can have a range of communication that goes from completely closed off to completely open.

i apologize if this was a bit overwhleming! im not at all trying to force median systems onto you or anything but i think it would be really good to look into! it definitely is possible that you just feel like you adopt a different personality in different situations, especially with your autism and masking. but if you feel like it is more than masking then i definitely think you should look into system/plural stuff!

Resources: Pluralpedia Plural Oasis Discord - Has a verification process Plural Palace Discord - Has a verification process Resources from @/the-plural-archive Resources from @/plural-culture-is

#asks #plural #multiplicity #median system #mod tubbo #endo safe #tips #experiences #long post

[taschamonnii]

Heyoo :)

Hope it'll get less hectic for you. Do you plan on, like, going on vacation maybe and get your well deserved break?

Yeah I can totally relate to that. Each day you are wondering if the day can't be over faster and the next second a month already passed. It kinda always feels like you're not really "living" yk?

Ohh that's great! I actually haven't really been able to read books since I startes to actively read fanfics. I do believe in you and that you'll be able to write again. But don't pressure yourself too much.

I've been quite okay I think. Some ups and a lot of downs but in general it's good. I can't even really tell you about anything 'cause I didn't really do anything. Though my relationship to one of my friends is kinda weird. My other friends always tell me that he's toxic and I should block him but eh

I missed you too! You always make my day better with your answers and posts because you're just so sweet <3

Hiya! Awe thank you! I may get a small break in March but can't really get a good break in until summer. That is exactly how I feel I'm like surviving each day not really living it. Disassociation is so fun 🙃

Right fanfiction like ruins real books for me because it takes effort to invest in new characters while I could read thousands of clexa fanfics and be sucked in instantly! But I think it is helping me. We shall see. My biggest struggle is switching between hard core academic APA writing to fun fiction writing school has me writing soooo much boring stuff lol

I feel you I do the same few things all the time so my life is very repetitive and boring I never feel like I have interesting things to share. I'm glad you are doing okay. I am not sure how old you are but friends come and go for sure however it is not really up for others to tell you. That is the good and bad part it is up to you and you alone who you keep in your life. I have very few friends because people kind of exhaust me and so I don't keep "toxic" people around but it's up to you to decide if that person is toxic to you or not.

You are so sweet it makes it easy to be sweet right back. 🥰 Plus you are so chill and respectful that I never feel any pressure from you and I really appreciate that.

#Fav Anon #Anon <3

[muellercorn]

Basically I Love Taylor Swift

Heyo I want to talk about how important of a figure Taylor Swift has been in my life since 2006. In 2015 I attended my firstTaylor concert (and my only to date) so now that we are on the verge of a new era (and hopefully tour) I've started saving to try to attend a concert soon. Therefore, I eventually feel ready to talk about my experience of attending the 1989 world tour at Hyde Park. This is a story I never even spoke about with friends because I was so desperate to attend a concert for so long that I was ashamed and embarrassed to admit what happened when I attended.

I've been a Taylor Swift fan since day one, I was 6 years old and just completely in awe. So after 9 years of dreaming and wishing I was seeing Taylor live and I could not have been more excited. My parents and I travelled down to London from our home in the North East of England, checked into our hotel then headed towards Hyde Park. Crossing over the road to Hyde Park my vision suddenly went to black and in a split second I'd completely disassociated from everything around me. You see, at age 6 I'd founded my love for TS, but I'd also been put in therapy for what would remain undiagnosed for 11 years but later be named as Emetophobia, OCD, anxiety among a few more. At age 15 I was absolutely no stranger to panic attacks, I'd had several a week since I was 6, however this was only my second time ever disassociating and by far the worst. As we got to Hyde Park I immediately needed to sit down, it started with a panic attack that I felt too tired to have. I couldn't accept that the world around me was real, I wouldn't let my parents touch me as I kept thinking and shouting that I didn't know who they were and they didn't seem like my parents. I just froze on a bench afraid to move for the fear that I'd black out. I just wanted to go back to my hotel, I begged and begged, I was willing to completely abandon my dream of seeing Taylor live. I was getting laughed at and mocked by passers by and I was just done. My parents however were not, although it felt like torture at the time they stayed with me and helped calm me down for at least 2 hours (if not more) because they knew I'd be heart broken if I missed the concert.

So eventually I got myself through the gates, got my light up wrist band and found a spot on the field. Literally just in time for Taylor coming on stage. I still wasn't all with 'there' mentally, but physically I'd made it. Obviously by this time I was right at the back of the field and I couldn't cope with trying to get amongst the crowd anyway, but I couldn't have cared less. I always denied it to others and said our train got there late and we couldn't get to the front, but at the time I was just happy to get to see my idol. I was having anxiety attacks every few minutes and my parents had sworn this was the last concert they'd take me to (and I haven't had the confidence to go to one since). A few months prior they'd decided to stop taking me to the theatre (my other great love) because despite my adoration for the arts, the anxiety the situation caused, resulted in me walking out and wasting a lot of money. All I know is if it weren't for how much Taylor inspired me that night, I would have given up on myself and denied myself so many opportunities and so much happiness in the future.

The concert is a blur to me, the best night of my life, but a blur. However, I have one incredibly distinct clear memory - listening to the speech before Clean, my favourite song from 1989. I'd watched previous speeches on YouTube so as soon as I heard the first few words I knew what was coming, but nothing could have prepared me. Taylor talked about how we were all going through our own anxieties, worries and hard times, but right now we were in awesome outfits and having the best night of our lives. The tears started to flow and it felt so surreal and magical it felt as if I was standing by myself in Hyde Park, just me and Taylor and she was giving me personalised life advice. Then I realised that despite the fact I had never met a single person in that crowd, we were all connected, we all had similar hearts and minds, and as Taylor said in hard times we all turn to music to get through. I cried my eyes out at this moment, I needed to hear what Taylor had to say and more over I needed to feel that inspired and moved.

That moment I decided to not give up on myself, to keep going, to return to a Taylor Swift concert when fates would allow. What made this moment even more special was that I knew it came directly from Taylor's heart, this wasn't the same speech that she'd given at the previous concert or the concert before there were ad-libs that came from raw emotion and passion and it was beautiful. I will never forget how I felt during this and the feeling I felt walking back to my hotel, hope that I hadn't felt in years and I'm so grateful. This is why I've loved Taylor for 13 years. She writes music that matters, that really really matters. This isn't music to make money it's art to heal, to comfort and to provide company.

I can not wait for this new era and to (hopefully) see Taylor Swift live again! It feels like she's written her song specifically for you each lyric related to the human condition at its core and that truly is enchanting. My battle with mental illness still goes on, I'm frightened at the thought of going to another concert, however there's nothing I'm more excited for right now than the idea of seeing Taylor perform live again, I trust her, I trust that the wisdom she'll bestow on me that night will make any prior anxiety completely worth it and will be laid to rest. I'm so grateful and beyond excited for this next era, music is my salvation and I'm ready for my soul to be nourished.

@taylorswift @taylornation

#taylor swift #taylurking #taylor nation #1989worldtour #1989 #1989 era #mental health #emetophobia #anxiety

[sagebodisattva]

Existential Nihilism

So when we talk about existential nihilism, we are addressing a fundamental core principle that underlies all of the seemingly different schools of nihilism. To me, honestly, despite the treatment I've given to these categories, I find it sort of silly and absurd that nihilism has been broken up and classified in a fragmented manner as such; as if the deconstruction of the various different inventory items of existence deserve their own distinctions. To me, this is the result of the work of non-nihilists; as, the true nihilist wouldn't have any such purpose for constructing these differentiations; the motivation, of such, being contrary to the very cause of nihilism in the first place.

The nihilist's mission is to uncover the truth of existence, and does so by means of stripping away all that is part of the facade, in order to reveal that which is rudimentary essence, aka the truth, or, the reality, and not illusion. We can draw the line of the true and the untrue at the event horizon of awareness. We are that, which precedes the event horizon of awareness. Beyond this horizon, is all collapsed wave function. It's hard to even begin to be able to realize and understand this line, because the attention is trained to not recognize it; to gloss over it with default oversight, the crux of the conditioning, and to remain stuck on the perceptibles.

And incidentally, this is the same kind of conditional lock that prevents one from realizing the nature of a dream whilst they are dreaming, which prevents lucidity and keeps the clarity of awareness in a fog, until after one has awoken. And I know that, even with this reference, not many have a experiential understanding of dream lucidity, but, even without such clarity, at the very least we can understand that a dream is not an actual reality, but a construct of an imagination. The dream experience is therefor an existential medium, hence, the only real reality is the awareness; which is the same again and again, in countless dreams. In other words, in the dream, what was real, was not the persona, the narrative, the perceptions, the feelings, other beings, animals or creatures, or even the world; it was always, and always will be, just the awareness.

And so, why is this common every day realization about the nature of dreams so difficult to carry over into the context of the so called “waking state?”, Because the attention is getting stuck on perceivables, and as such, the truth of reality becomes un-clarified. It's very hard to refocus the attention when its committed and heavily invested in identifications and associations, aka attachments. But let's look into these binding ties that anchor the awareness in the illusion.

We identify with the world, but the world does not make us what we are, as evidenced by the fact that we could feasibly be put into another world and still be the same person. So you are not the world or any environment.

So what about our thoughts, ideas and concepts? Are we our thinking minds? You have plenty of intellectual data in stored in your brain, but does any of it make you who you are, really? Some may argue that it does, but this is more conditioning, more identification by attachment. You could drop plenty of ideas and still be you. You could change your thoughts and still be you. You could rearrange, add or remove your concepts and still be you. So you are not your thoughts, ideas and concepts.

Maybe we are the perceptual senses? Everything we can speak about is the result of either sight smell hearing taste or touch, so perhaps our identities can be defined by perception? For those who identify as such, I strongly recommend sensory deprivation tanks. After some experience with these you will soon know first hand that you are not the senses, as also further evidenced by a blind man, or a deaf person. The adding or removal of any sensory instrument does not make us any more or less ourselves.

Ok, so what about our feelings and emotions? Do these solidify some kind of identity? How so, when again, feelings and emotions come and go, change, and fluctuate constantly, none of them ever remaining constant, and yet we still remain who we are throughout them all, so we are not our feelings and emotions.

What about our families, our names our ancestral lineage and bloodlines? Does this define us? This is yet another association. We would not still be who we are even if our family was removed? Would we become something else if we changed our name? If we woke up tomorrow in some other person's life on the other side of the world, would we not still be an individual? So we are not our families or lineage.

Then, of course, comes the physical body. Surely, if anything, we must be the physical body, no? How so exactly? If we removed your foot, would you still be you? What about your hand? Or your liver? Or your left buttock? If you are still you despite the removal of various body parts or organs, then obviously you cannot be the physical body either.

Then so, finally, what about the consciousness, aka the ego, or the persona? Without a doubt, this MUST be what we are. What else is left? The consciousness could be said to be the culmination of all the identifications and associations combined, what we sum up to be a self by adding the world, our thoughts, our perceptions, our emotions, our family history, and our physical bodies together. We call being aware of this confection the consciousness, but if none of the components of this culmination are a true self, then how could the amalgamation of these components be a true self either? By assuming such, we've only just made the ego that much more difficult to untangle. But untangling the persona is crucial to self recognition. And how is this done?

Deconstruction. Subtraction. Detachment. Reduction. Emptying. Nihilism. Destroying untruths, and tearing down false foundations.

When you have disassociated and un-identified with all of the false veneers, you will have arrived at that which could be called the true self; the actual reality, that, which is always so, that, which you are. Pure potentiality. This is the superpositional substratum upon which all distinctions of self awareness are produced. This is why, from this space of clear open awareness, it can be clearly known that, value, meaning and purpose, are existential, and not otherwise. And to further clarify existentiality, this means that these features are created aspects that only have a setting within the momentary facets of being. This is the truth of reality, and yet this truth is called nihilism. Why?

Because of the apparent disapproval of control freaks and dogma defenders, that don't want you to free yourself from your mind enslavement. People are so much easier to manipulate and command when they assume, in ignorance, that value, meaning, and purpose are pre-existing factors that one must find, and then adhere to. And don't worry, you won't have to look very far to find them; for there are plenty of leaches lined up, ready to usher you into a nice little role of subservient obedience; where you will be in the perfect position to be commanded, and used for the greedy selfish purposes of power hungry resource pigs. So fear not; if you are unwilling to create your own value, meaning and purpose, one will be happily supplied to you. If you find the notion of value meaning and purpose not being objective depressing, relax, one can be penetrated into you.

But, if you are one of the few among us that doesn't have a problem with the truth of existentiality, then know that your source is potentiality, your destination is potentiality, and whatever comes in between is completely up to you. You come from nothing, are headed towards nothing, so any value, meaning or purpose that arise, are going to be a result of your own directed action, duty, dedication, and responsibility. Meanings are not derived from theoretical philosophy, but a consequence of function and interaction. When it is said that value, meaning and purpose are not intrinsic or inherent, this is only true insomuch as it applies to value, meaning and purpose residing objectively. Value meaning and purpose are, in fact, inherent and intrinsic, but only so contextually; that is to say, relatively and subjectively so.

And I know why this prospect is daunting and undesirable to most people, for the realization that life is without meaning, purpose and value to be found pre-existing, means that, of itself, life is pretty absurd, and can be outright maddening; if one is searching for such engagements externally, which will often lead to angst and utter despondency in the face of the futility and pointlessness of it all. But it is only futile and pointless because you have invested in value judgements based on misplaced assumptions and erroneous conclusions. Drop them.

What other kind of validation do your values, meanings and purposes need, beyond your own commitment to them? For an atheist, I can't see where any of this causes an issue. If there is no god, then whereof would any of these aspects be derived? The only real people that this would seem to cause a problem for, would be theists. People that are obsessively worried about god, and the possibility that they wouldn't be serving and obeying him properly by not blindly following words in a book written by men of antiquity. What else could it be? I know, I know. You wanna be good and make it into heaven. How profoundly deep of you. But understand this: if you are good because of the promise of reward. or the threat of punishment, you are not good for the right reasons. There is no sky daddy out there to give a blowjob to, so get over it. Take responsibility for your own existence.

There doesn't need to be emotional anguish over the fact that there isn't any objective force out there supplying value, meaning and purpose. This agency is found within yourself, and can become a great wellspring of inspiration towards defining your own value, purpose and meaning. But, just keep in mind that creating your own value, purpose and meaning isn't an indication that your value, purpose and meaning are necessarily justified, and this is why we do need a very simple universal moral compass, despite morality also being a construct; it doesn't automatically follow that creating value purpose and meaning that victimizes other sentience is permissible. It isn't. This is why we shouldn't look past the importance of the existential agency of the entire nihilistic foundation, and understand that, in the face of paradoxical absurdity, it is up to you to define, and make of yourself, what you will; for no amount of external searching will amount to more then quiet desperation and frustrating futility; but, despite the lack of objective supplementation, creating your own intentions within nothingness isn't a license to violate another existential agency.

If you can figure out why this is, as it is an absolute moral distinction relative to sentience, that no existential consciousness wants to be victimized against their will, then you will have a less difficult journey ahead, and will be doing your part to bring peace and harmony to our shared existential paradigm.

#existentialism #existential #nihilism

[nephilumking]

People say they will be there through anything yet the first time your mentally ill mind turns on them they will run. They have every right to. To protect themselves.

Yet I would be cut a thousand times in the deepest recesses of my being than brake the oaths I have made.

I cannot promise not to hurt those I love. I realize that now. I will fail those closest to me. I will betray them. All without choice in it.

My core self has laid dormant hiding from the real world for so long that I let the alters run amuck. After all if I let them be in control I need not fear pain. They'll feel it in my stead.

Yet even as I sat in the passenger seat in my own mind. They found a way to hurt me as well. I've been asleep so long I forgot what it is to be awake. I find myself asking myself who am I?

The one that chased Sirona was the foolish boy who was made to keep my trauma away from my family. The kind hearted one without a hint of self regard. Always seeking to do whatever he could for either of my grandma's and the rest of my family.

The one who cuts with fists as well as words. Was created to be brave in the face of violence. Fighting dogs and other children for bets placed on us. I had to win the fights or else I'd be used by men as a child for money. Cold hearted and the reason I was mistakingly diagnoses with antisocial personality disorder.

The beaten broken dog was made to hold all the memories I couldn't even begin to process as a child. It lashes out through scratches and biting. The rape I experienced before I even knew what that word meant.

Yet as I try to sleep. As I do my therapy. As I try to heal. I keep asking who am I? I guess I don't really know who I am. I guess I'm an observer.

It's hard to tell which of us is the original sometimes. I don't experience disassociative amnesia as far as I can tell. Yet recent events make me wonder. If so who the fuck was at the helm?

I don't remember anyone else pointing out lapses in my memory. Nobody ever said anything close to this that I can recall.

The kind hearted fool was the dominant personality for so long he convinced himself he was the real me. That the protestor was just psychosis.

Exploring the memories of the dog. As well as a trip to the court house to look at the evidence of my father's murder I found that the pictures of the .22 used to kill my dad were familiar.

It was the same one he gave me when we went on drug runs. I was only a child. Then with the therapy it clicked. It's the one I shot my father's killer's brother with when he tried to rob my dad.

We left it behind as we made our escape. After I cut him free. My father died because of me. If only I'd grabbed the gun. He'd still be alive if the side effects of his addiction didn't get him.

Would I even want him alive after everything he put me through? Repeatedly traumatizing me. Physical violence for watching Barney. Making me hid his meth pipe in my pants pockets before I was out of a booster seat. Over and over the more I remember the less love I feel.

Yet I don't even know if these feelings belong to me or to the alters. I've made a point to fight against the disassociation.

To remain awake for more than just moments before I let them take the steering wheel. If nothing else I've become far more efficient and productive. I guess that makes sense.

After all childhood trauma made the alters. They of course would be cartoony and silly. Ridiculous to the point of frustration.

Especially the fool. With his obsession of love. Yet I am loved. Always seeking love that isn't returned. To mirror or mimic the love I sought from my drug addicted father. Always believing false promises.

Even if I stumble.somewhat blindly. I am still seeking progress to control my condition. If I can get my PTSD under control,.I feel like making these alters fall in line will be simple enough. I just can't give in to my urge to fade to the background. To sleep while I'm awake.

The oddest experience in all this, is the feeling of meeting my family and friends for the first time. I've known them all my life. Yet it was through a fog of disassociation.

So far they are accepting of me. Though they can definitely tell something is off. I lack facial expressions that the fool did all the time.

My own skin feels like it doesn't belong to me. Like a pair of shoes that haven't been broken in. I know the feelings and thoughts of each and every one of the alters in my head.

There is first of all the oldest as far as I can tell the dog. My only safe place was with my Sadie. She wouldn't even let my parents near me if I didn't want them to. Even from a young age. I'd even argue she was my first mother.

As my mom was a child herself and we have more of a brother sister relationship in many ways. I don't blame my mom she did the best she could. She always thought I was safe with my dad.

Then there is the child. A form of age regression in the form of a child. This one comes out with my mother and used to come out with my grandmother's most of all. It is a picture of innocence that I wished I had.

It was robbed from me. Which then makes the protector. When I get knocked out or hit it is the one that strikes back. It sleepwalks often. It will also sleepwalk me to the restroom or to get water so I don't have to get up. It's more of a mechanism than a personality. It can be triggered by adrenaline, violence, gunshots, or any other thing. It just does whatever is necessary to keep me safe.

During a car wreck while I'm still in shock it takes the reigns and lets me move out of the car slowly to avoid more hurt or damage. Usually resulting in me laying on the ground. Staring without thought at the sky or the stars. It is usually cruel to those that hurt me unrelentingly so. With exceptions. The fool talked it into pacifism. Not that it's a bad thing. For several events in my adult life.

When all it could think of was violence. I just listened to it's thoughts and honestly if it was the main personality I should probably be locked up in a psych ward and the key thrown away. Even if it is towards someone causing you pain violence should be a last resort not an automatic reaction.

Though I've been beaten, but, cut,stabbed, shot at and more. So I understand why it behaves the way it does. Out of all of them I find it the most valid but that's probably just a sense of self preservation.

Then there is the preacher. Who tries to help lost causes. I say preacher cause I used to idealize preachers in my broken little mind. Good thing I'm not Catholic or I would have been molested more than I already was.

Attempting to save people from their addiction. To provide for those who don't really deserve it. Offering to any and all the very shirt on my back even if I don't have one to replace it.

I find his self righteousness to be very annoying and troublesome. My upbringing in Churches is most definitely responsible for him. Though he isn't exactly a preacher. He's just more of what I thought a preacher should be. No scripture all action. He would carry propane to the elderly homeless at cost to our wallet. Cook for people. Buy shampoo, conditioner, detergent for the other ones foundation for people to use.

Yet I cannot say his methods didn't keep me safe on the street. Nobody ever stole from me. The person who attempted to steal from me was tracked down by a fellow I helped. He even helped someone stop drinking who drank two handles or vodka a day.

Probably the least harmful alter I have in retrospect. Great at networking and PR. Yet he doesn't use it that way and me thinking that he kinda chastised me in my own head. For thinking to use him.

The Mute is another I developed in highschool. Silent unless spoken to unless I was around friends I thought I could keep after HS. Just kind of an emotionless husk without any real personality. Literally only exists to make it easier for me to avoid forming attachments.

The lovestruck fool. Is probably the most annoying of all my personalities. He fought his way to dominance for one reason and one reason only. To chase after love. I don't understand him. He is the antithesis of what an alter is meant to be.

The personification of my likely very normal need for love that was stunted and ignored for years due to the fear or attachment at that level of intimacy after my first gf.

Short story about her. DID and Borderline Schizophrenia do not mix. One likes to to traumatize the other literally hides behind fake personalities to avoid trauma.

Yet the fool no matter how many times he is cut still only wants one person. Hell even right now that idiot won't shut the fuck up about how miserable he is. And I quote. "Her silence cute me more than any blade " No mother fucker it does not we have literally been cut.

We have been stabbed. I'd much rather watch you be rejected than experience surgery again. Fucking moron. Yet he's starting to crack I think. I'm going to make him let go. If that's the last thing I do.

If it were possible to murder a figment of your imagination I would have done so upon waking up. I honestly find this so fucking annoying. Attempting to stitch together the chorus of thoughts in my fucking head.

Yet it is necessary for my unborn. I have to become stable. I will never be like my father. No matter what I have to endure if that is reality than so be it.

Then there's the last alter. That I will refer to as party boy. Outgoing and charismatic so long as he is drunk or high. Which is probably good since he only really exists while drunk or stoned.

Not much else to say there really he's relatively self explanatory. Social lubricants make him wake up.

That's enough thinking for today I'm going to sleep. Therapy journal bs is a pain.

[delcat177]

TSWU is such a beautiful work, and I can't fully express how much seeing your journey shared has given me confidence in my own. I know I'm a little late, I'm rarely on tumblr these days but. Thanks, Del. I'm so glad you've found your freedom from this particular stage, cause I personally can't imagine confronting my abuser. Idek where I'm going but. Just... thanks Del. For sharing with us.

Hey <3 I know this is like, super late, but it hasn't not been on my mind, I've just been finding space. Thank you for your patience, Anon, I hope you still see this.

yes ofc it got long, cw abuse discussion

Thank you, for thanking me. One of the reasons I needed to find space was that I want to always be thoughtful and nuanced in my trauma work, and my first thought was

"well technically I haven't confronted my abuser(s) directly, I only went into her space and made her aware of my presence and the effect it had on me..."

...which, typing it out, does in fact sound like confrontation |,D I get so caught up on the small stuff.

I hope I can impress that facing any abuser is tremendously hard, and it's okay if you don't! There are people in my past that I don't know if I'll ever approach, if only because some webs of abuse go deeper than I can start untangling out of consideration for other people in them.

(I know what {you} did.

How fucking could {you}?)

In Lily's case, it took years to get to the point where I felt brave enough to even get close--I remember finding her on Steam and going "just talk to her, talk to her" and then realized I was disassociating horribly just by looking at the chat box I had opened. I was feeling a deep instinct to go on invisible, which I would do quite often with her, because she was so demanding of my time and attention that I had to full stealth if I wanted a break.

And I mean full stealth--I still don't have a Tumblr queue because if I slipped and posted on LJ or a friend mentioned I was talking to them while I was invisible, she would immediately DM me, and with my cover blown, I knew I wouldn't get out of the conversation unscathed. Either I would tell her I needed time to myself and she would start picking apart how I was talking to X or Y but not her, or I would give in and start talking to her. I would feel guilty whatever happened, but the amount of guilt I would have felt at the time for pretending I didn't see her was too strong.

(Every time I write something down, I swear.)

It takes time. The smallest things can spin you, and that's okay. It's proof that you're wounded. Try not to go "I'm weak", but "My leg is super broken and if it was not why am I limping?" and demand to see the leg's manager. There is pain in realizing there is pain, but it's the pain of healing. You're already taking the right steps by speaking your truth about being abused. You don't have to go there, necessarily.

I did, and I've been quiet about it since. I've had a lot to think about.

It was another couple of years before I decided to check Mastodon and found out she was the top poster in her community, and something like a week of just dealing with that reality to decide to send out the warning notes. I had spent years picturing this huge confrontation where I had to go toe to toe with her and defend myself. I still do.

But it didn't happen. She was surprised and posted about having no idea I felt like that. I was more surprised. I had never considered she might not even know I had been affected, or how much I regret and was negatively affected by the sexual stuff in particular. I don't think she knew that she made me sure I was going to Hell at 15, when I figured out that it wasn't "just words on a screen", like everyone thought it was, and quietly accepted I was doomed to do whatever she wanted from then on. That wasn't her experience. I don't think she ever questioned it. She might say differently, I don't know, I just know that I went on to write a trauma narrative down to the core and she went on to claim my OCs were hers and commission pin-ups.

(Yeah. I found another one. Cora this time. The collar is in exceptionally bad taste. Can't fault the art, though.)

It was an entire paradigm shift, and it's taken this long and then some to wrap my head around it. I've been reading the chatlogs we had, and understanding how much of it was not her, or not either of us, but a lot of fucked up environment. That doesn't let anyone off the hook, but being able to go "oh, she grew up in a chaotic household and simply didn't see any moral failing in what she thought was an equitable relationship because I also grew up in a chaotic household and toxic church environment that groomed me into pleasing people at all costs and courtship culture was especially bad, and here on page 103 you can see exhibit Q blah blah blah" has really helped me in understanding that while abuse feels like this huge, singular monster

the truth is, it's complex, it usually involves real love in with the fake stuff, and is more like a big haunted house you live in than one Big Bad you face. You don't get in simply, you don't get out simply. It takes time, and therapy...or what you can get in this climate, I'd recommend this channel, and this one, if you're also in the Swamped Therapist Waiting Room.

(This video helped me understand so much and I only clicked because I needed to make the meme. These two never don't help me, I swear.)

I guess what I'm trying to get around to is...it's hard. It is really, really hard. They get to move on and they leave you in the messed-up house, and while you're working to repaint and fumigate, you find or notice or realize that they don't even remember the cracks in the walls, and that is a tremendously unfair thing. There is not, in truth, much justice to be had, not much of a fairy tale ending. I'm sorry to say it, but to quote A Monster Calls, most of us don't get better than messily ever after.

(And we cry. And if we need to break things, by God, we break them, and we are with each other when we do. If you want me by you, I am there--along with five or six of Maxwell's finest shadows. They lobe abusers.........on toast.)

I wish I could bring you all of the peace, all of the solace, all of the closure you could ever want, Anon. You deserve it. What I can tell you is that these things do live inside of you, and as you move forward, they will find you. Write things down, keep a journal. Write down all the things you don't want to say out loud and read them back, and ask yourself if you deserved to be treated better, because the "wait, yes I did" really gets wheels moving. Here, let me start:

You deserved to be treated better.

You deserved to be treated better.

You deserve to be treated so much better, and you have the right to grieve that you were not, and you are stronger every moment.

I believe in you, Anon.

Re: you believing in me, you wonderful person gonna make me all crey in the good way:

There isn't a day that goes by that TSWU isn't on my mind. As might be gleaned from its events and my writing about it, it was severely impacted by what was going on in my own life, but so subconsciously that when I realized...well, everything...I knew that I had to make a severe impact back. But I also knew I had to do it well, and that involved a lot of planning.

TSWU is not dead, by a long shot. Almost all of the pieces are on the board at this point, and I need to get over my fear of writing again to move them, but the years of silence have not been idle ones.

I only hope other people are half as accepting of the places I have to go with this, the twists and turns I need to make, and that it will continue to be as healing as this note, the notes I get, say it is. I have long considered just killing the narrative, and it is as much you and people like you giving me this courage and hope that keeps it alive as my own dogged stubbornness, probably more.

It really does mean...so fucking much, to know that my writing does something other than hurt people.

(I still get spun over the three-page comic about Woundson hating me, yes. The people who want to hurt you, will.

For the record, the creator had a LOT going on and I've forgiven them the most of anybody, but haha ouch to the extreme, not afraid of saying it)

Thank you, Anon. Thank you, so much. You are my hero, so don't forget that, okay? Whatever you do, however you choose to be, you are my hero. It sucks, and it hurts, because heroes take a lot of damage, but then, you get to fly.

All of my love to you, and a big snuggly hug from Chessie besides. She knows what is a Nice Person and what is Not. You are.......Nice! BIG SNUGGLS.

We're all walking each other home. I'm proud of you. Thank you.

#asks #late response #anon #abuse talk #that person #lamp tag #heroes #tswu #i almost decided 'no forever' today #so #thank you #so much #i think people will be on board with where i'm headed here #or they won't #but the ones who will always would #and the ones who won't never did #so there #question mark? #you're the best anon #never forget you're my hero

[heyalexturner]

HEY how's gal a predatory rape apologist? i dislike her for she's pro palestinian genocide but i've never heard of this.....

One of her friends posted an article about how Gal had shamed and bullied her when she got raped. She had posted it on Medium but it got deleted for some reason. I don't know her name but here's the deleted article: Recently Gal Gadot tweeted that bullying is unacceptable.Her hypocrisy is deeply wounding. The shame and blame she instilled into me after I was raped was deeply traumatizing.Gal is more than a bully; she is a predator who enables predators.This is my story.Thirteen years ago, I shared an apartment with Gal Gadot for two months in Milan, Italy. Several young girls lived in the building, all under contract with the same modeling management company.Shortly after we met, Gal invited me to share space in her room. Gal’s roommate Maya* was going back home to Israel. Maya was 15, and only spoke Hebrew.Maya was about to leave for the airport. Her bags were packed. The expression on her face was vacant. Tears were in her eyes. It was clear she was in deep pain.Gal calmly told me that the girl had been raped, and that the experience had put the girl in the hospital.Gal said the girl was stupid — for going to the wrong club, and for trusting the man who brought her there. I felt sorry for Maya, but I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t speak her language. I didn’t realize that meeting her would foreshadow my future.Gal had been in Milan for a few weeks. She said she would show me the ropes and who could be trusted. Her confident strength made me feel safe, protected, and loved in a way that I hadn’t felt before. Gal taught me to trust her. I was 18 and she was 19.Gal told me about men who followed models around to casting calls. They were paid by clubs to convince models like us to join them at these clubs in exchange for expensive food, drinks, publicity photos, and VIP treatment. Gal told me to never trust these men, because they rape.Gal’s previous roommate had been tricked by one of these men, and the underlying message was clear: trust Gal. I felt safe with Gal. I did not realize then how little I knew about rape, predators, and the culture that supports them.Gal and I spent most of our free time together. We shared food, clothes, and makeup. We went to the gym. We went shopping and tanning together. We went on photo shoots together. I made her a mix CD. I sang her to sleep. I watched her smoke constantly out of the window. We shared body insecurities, and she shared sex stories. She made sure to appear confident, knowledgeable, and successful — even then. She fed me information about Israel. Whenever she discussed Palestinians, she showed deep hatred.Gal set us up on dates with men who expected sex in exchange for the lavish meals they fed us, although we never slept with them. She would pick smaller men, and threaten them after dinner. They complained and she chased them off with more threats. She would laugh about it later. She used sex as a weapon.Several weeks into my stay, she took me to meet her Israeli friends including her best friend Ayala*. Ayala and her boyfriend Yaniv seemed very close. He appeared to dote on her, and they seemed very much in love.Gal, Ayala, Yaniv and I went out each weekend, sometimes with other friends. The four of us quickly became a core group. We went to clubs to spend time in the spaces reserved for celebrities.Hidden behind the historic exteriors of Milan’s ancient architecture were sensory-overwhelming nightclubs, decked out like palaces. These places were teeming with swarms of people feeding off of manufactured prestige. I was a sheltered child from a small town, and was utterly unprepared for the dark side of the modeling and nightlife industries.A short time later, Gal and I spent a weekend at Yaniv and Ayala’s room inside another shared apartment. Gal and I shared a pull out couch while Yaniv and Ayala slept in their bed. The room was close and intimate. We spent the evening laughing, watching movies, smoking, and drinking. Yaniv commented on how I could not hold my alcohol, fully aware I had no experience getting drunk.A week later, Ayala left for a modeling gig in Greece while Gal was in Ireland for a weekend shoot. Yaniv invited me out to dinner alone. Over dinner, we talked about our significant others, his travel around the world, and his time in the Israeli Defense Forces. I didn’t realize that his intentions were anything other than honorable. After dinner, his friend invited us to a new club.Yaniv asked if I had ever drank wine, knowing I had not. He bought me several drinks with dinner while telling me that I needed to try different varieties. It’s hard for me to remember what happened after that. I assume he drugged me.To this day, I have never been inebriated in that particular way, especially after only drinking wine. I was in and out of consciousness, and my body felt limp. I kept falling over. My brain felt like it was shutting down. Yaniv called his roommate Ofir to help carry me home. I couldn’t walk. I was dead weight. I remember odd pieces, like him repeatedly asking me in a sick, almost playfully malicious tone of voice if I thought I was smart.I remember thinking that we were going home so that I would sleep on the couch, as Gal and I had before. I woke up in Yaniv’s bed, naked. He had removed my clothes when I was unconscious. I remember him climbing on top of me. I could just barely say “no”, and “this isn’t right”. Then I blacked out.I woke up again while he continued raping me. He was restraining my arms so I couldn’t move. It was violent. There was pain. I will never forget how he looked in that dark room. I will never forget the absolute panic I felt. It was terror. I thought he would kill me next. His rape was full of hate. He did not look at me.I woke up the next morning, groggy and delirious. I asked Yaniv what happened. I wanted to hear him say it.“We had sex,” he said, and shrugged. “I thought you knew.”“I told you no,” I said, quietly.“You told me no but your body told me yes,” he said. That line still haunts my mind, 13 years later.I couldn’t get out of his bed, even though I wanted to leave. I was physically sick; not only still intoxicated from the aftereffects of whatever I consumed, but also bruised, shocked, and traumatized. As I lay in his bed, I listened to Yaniv call a friend and brag about having sex with an 18 year old. His conquest; an accomplishment; a notch on his belt.He told me that no one could know, because Ayala would be too hurt. Soon, he began ignoring me.I was disoriented and traumatized. I had absolutely no context to process what had happened. I had no sex education, and certainly no understanding of predators or the culture that supports them. I had been taught a woman should be a virgin until marriage.I thought sex was about love. What I experienced from him was not love. It was hate and disgust. I didn’t have the language to call this rape. Rape was something to fear from strangers while walking alone down the street. Rape was not committed by a friend.I thought he was my friend.I was used, discarded, and alone.Almost alone. At least I had Gal, I thought. She came home two days later. She knew something had happened by looking at me. I wonder if I reminded her of her previously raped roommate.Gal immediately began interrogating me. I could see no compassion in her eyes. I told Gal something had happened between Yaniv and I.She took me down to the basement. It was cold, mechanical, and frightening. We were alone. Then her anger exploded.She stood over me, intimidating and loud, blaming me for what happened. Her eyes were fire. I had already felt small and violated, but she shamed me into feeling obsolete. I felt extremely dirty. Already in shock, I disassociated from my body. I can’t remember most of her words. I remember being in utter terror of her anger.She was furious for Ayala and “what I had done to her”. Gal pointed her finger in my face like a weapon. She asked me how I could do this, and that I needed to make this up to Ayala. She made me feel ashamed, that the whole event had been my fault, and that I had brought it upon myself by being so naïve.After that, I feared Gal. I spent nights out as long as I could, hoping to avoid her. When I did see Gal, she would speak of nothing other than her conviction that I needed to speak with or write to Ayala. She would not let up. She was obsessed. There was absolutely no understanding from her. I don’t know how she could not have seen how the rape changed me. I was no longer the same person.On my last night in Milan, Gal made one final attempt to get me to submit to her demands. She brought me downstairs to a computer. Gal put her hands on me and forced me into the chair. She made me open my email account and write Ayala’s address in the address bar.Standing behind me and above me, Gal held my shoulders down with a terrible pressure, preventing me from escape. She attempted to dictate what she called my “confession and apology”. I could not do it. I was crying, and my head seemed to break apart. My heart felt like it was bleeding out. My stomach was in awful knots. I began disassociating from my body. I could not speak. I could not write her lies.She referred to the rape as “your mistake”.After what felt like several hours, Gal eventually gave up in disgust. It was late at night. She made me promise I would write the letter to Ayala. I never wrote the letter.I returned home confused, silent, and ashamed. Later Gal returned to Israel for her military training. I ended my modeling career as another young woman assaulted, used, and disposed by the industry and its enablers. I did not think I would ever see Gal again.When I was getting my degree in Women’s and Gender Studies, Gal showed up on Maxim in a bikini and heels, the cover girl of their issue on the women of the Israeli Defense Forces.When I saw her face, I had an immense panic attack. I had no idea how much she would upset me. My rape came flashing back. I could feel Gal’s hands pushing on my shoulders. My throat closed up and my heart raced. The nightmares continued to haunt me every night.After I graduated, I worked as the director of the sexual assault services program back in my hometown. I spent many years helping survivors to validate their experiences and process emotions, yet I still deeply struggled with my own.Yaniv Nahoum is responsible for drugging and raping me. That was not Gal’s fault. But her confidence and her power in blaming me opened up a part of my brain, and filled me with an all-consuming shame. I can still feel the pressure of her hands pushing down on me.The trust she built with me was a gateway to my total devastation.Predators gain trust in order to exploit it for their advantage.Gal has succeeded in a predatory industry because she is a predator. She is unafraid to destroy others in pursuit of her ambitions. Like any strong predator, she knows how to target, destroy, and consume the weakest and most vulnerable.Highly skilled predators in our society manage to land roles where they cultivate public trust.Bill Cosby put on a sweater and built trust as a Huxtable.Gal Gadot put on a breastplate and became an icon for women.A predator in a costume is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.When Gal Gadot says that she supports sexual assault survivors, do not believe it. Her actions speak louder than words.*not her real name