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convervative-blog · 5 years

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so, ptsd is the only dsm v recognized disorder which is classified as a psychiatric injury and not a congenital, inherited expression (ok blah ignoring that of course many things like bpd are now becoming known as typical complex trauma/abuse responses but thats not what this post is about, marsha linehan was robbed i will fight everybody...anyway...) alot of ppl really seem to misunderstand what ptsd is. it is an injury to our brains, it is a psychiatric injury which clearly and visibly affects our limbic system, our amygdala, our hippocampus. it literally lights up how we process memories events circumstances. it activates our pons, the area in our brainstem responsible for controlling stress, our “lizard brain”, the part of our brain that instinctively knows when shit is wrong and reacts and slams the 10/10 button before u have time to think. the adrenal system, the part that floods ur body with cortisol, adrenaline, endorphins, epinephrine, your muscles tighten, your pupils dilate, you know you can put your fist through something if you have to, you know you can make a run for that closet and hide in it if you have to, you know you gotta do something because shit is going down motherfucker!!!!!!!!!! ok so like some ppl with ptsd can be violent. we see this in media portrayals of ptsd all the time, the guy had a gun he was in iraq he went crazy. like thats the normal narrative, and ok within our community we really dont want to discuss how this is real and could be real for people. ok of fucking course that narrative is bullshit because most people with mental illness are more likely to be victims of violent crime not perpetrators and we need more positive inclusive healing narratives of ptsd because we want to see representations of ourselves! but this isnt about that because weve seen those posts, weve done the discourse, were doing the discourse, so im gonna talk about something else. something thats gonna piss everybody off so buckle up cowboys yeet haw. some ppl with ptsd become abusers, thats a fact. because some people cant deal with stress at all, they become hyperreactive and that reaction is fists, yelling, screaming, throwing things, becoming incoherent and nonsensical, etc etc. when your heart reaches 180 bpm (and it does with virtually any indistinguishable environmental or emotional trigger, it absolutely gets that high when your lizard brain takes over), you stop being able to think logically. part of having ptsd for me was learning that this is me, i dont hit but when little things happen my brain completely sheds the part of my personality that is logical reasonable and calm. my decision-making part, my risk/reward analyzing part, my organizing part. frontal lobe? lol seeya. i immediately become enraged and if i do nothing else ill usually yell/scream at TOP VOLUME and then after about 30 seconds, 60 seconds, when it cools off ill feel bad about it. sometimes when im having a bad day and multiple little things have gone on, ill get progressively worse and storm around swearing and slamming things, simmering, trying trying trying to get it under control, trying to fight through the hormone surge to claw back my reason, my sanity. its something i literally cant control, i have tried my whole life. im not denying responsibility for it of course im responsible for it, but thats reality, its my reality. its my reality that the person i live with has secondary ptsd because of me because of my life because i was a sex trafficking victim from age 8 and i cant deal with dropping a cup of water anymore because of it. my brain is literally damaged, literally, literally, literally. and i have hurt people because of it. maybe not physically but that doesnt matter. theres a person on this planet who is affected by the things ive done and will always be affected, and there is nothing i can do to fix that, or change it. as long as im alive it will be their reality as my caretaker (because atm im unemployable obviously for those reasons). and you go to therapy and they say “try writing about your anger,” you know. “try focusing on what makes you angry.” nothing makes me angry its not about that, its not about that at all and it shows a distinct lack of comprehension of what ptsd is. ptsd is your brain being unable to deal with minor, mundane, ordinary stress. and ppl dont grasp what the word stress in neurological contexts means. it means novel, sudden actions. there are even good stressors and bad stressors. sex is a good stressor! lots of action! lots of cognitive shit going on! going on a date, going to a movie, riding a roller coaster, meeting a stranger, being startled accidentally, dropping/breaking things, running out of meds, being late for something. theyre all ordinary things that most ppl can deal with even if its inconvenient. people with ptsd cant. because our brains are conditioned to view every stressor response as a potential trauma. funny thing is when trauma is actually going down our brains are pretty damn good at entering the fun zone, its that latent logical shit, ya know what i mean. everything gets slow-motion and youre able to shut down your emotions and just act and do the shit that has to be done, just clench up and freeze and let your eyes drift and you’re ready to endure. when you spend your whole life like that, every little thing becomes something your brain assesses as potentially traumatic, potentially going to harm you, your brain doesn’t know the difference between the telephone ringing unexpectedly or a masked intruder about to rape you. its like the fucking tumblr algorithm. beige tones?????//? ThIs iS nOt My SAfe PLAacE?!!! bam adrenal response. and im not trying to justify abuse, this isnt my attempt to justify it, but it is a real issue that exists for alot of people? probably people who arent involved in our community bc this seems to affect ppl who dont have regular access to online resources proportionately more (there is a link between being well-educated on ptsd and being better able to manage your ptsd, shocker water is wet etc etc, but its not imminently an obvious correlation! i dont hit people or break down the doors specifically because ive devoted my life to learning about and understanding my disorder) but there are people. we dont want to talk about this shit bc its like an open fucking secret, some of us get crazy some of us go fawn-like and become people pleasers, some of us get violent (’violence’ as a word im using to refer to ppl who explode outwardly and impact their environment in some way, not necessarily physical 100% of the time, you dont need to hit someone to be a violent person) anyway just thought id rant about this good luck chiddlers

#op #ptsd #seriouslysurvivor #actuallysurvivor #did #ddnos #trauma #abuse #stress #dsm v #dsm #mental illness #psychiatry #psychology #post traumatic stress disorder #neurology

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negasonicimagines · 5 years

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TEAM (Part Two)

I forgot to mention that this fic is partially inspired by Lorde’s “Team,” hence the title. Kind of about how no matter how much you and the other characters here bicker, you’re all on each others’ team.

This is the second part to TEAM (Part One) [but I hope that’d be obvious] and therefore is inspired by the same request and has essentially the same trigger warnings.

“So, you and Ellie, huh? About time,” Logan remarks, and you feel yourself blush.

“No! It’s not like that! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d be the luckiest girl in the world, but, uh… No, it’s not like that.”

“Are you sure about that? I’ve seen the way you two are together. When she’s not looking at you or her phone, she’s watching everyone else like a hawk, like they’re threats. Honestly, Piotr’s worried about her.”

At the mention of Wade’s friend, you’re reminded of what Logan said before, about the thing that he knew that he shouldn’t tell her, the thing Wade also knew.

“What was that, anyway? The thing you knew that you didn’t know before that you would’ve told me if you had but couldn’t tell me?”

“I’m afraid that’s Wade’s business.”

“Great,” you remark. “So, I’ll never know.”

“Listen, kid, I know the stuff he said-”

“Screamed.”

“The stuff he screamed at you was pretty fucking awful. But… He had his reasons, okay? Being around him, being as close to him as you were was dangerous. It made you a target,” Logan explains.

“When will you people realize that I can’t die forever?! I’ve died plenty of times, and I always come back! Let me make my own decisions!”

“How many times have you died, Y/N?” Logan asks.

“It’s just… Hard not to starve when my mom kicks me out over school breaks, especially with the metabolism that comes with a healing factor. I can’t stay with Wade all the time, he has himself and Al to worry about. Muggers don’t like when you don’t have money. Mom doesn’t like me when I don’t have money. I don’t know, probably like eight or nine times.”

“You should’ve come here!” Logan scolds, and you want to curl in on yourself, just like before. “I’m sorry. He and I both know just how much dying can fuck you up, so, to hear you say that you’ve died.... And that you don’t care if you do? It’s concerning, to say the least.”

“Boo-hoo, Y/N’s crazy. Who isn’t?” you remark, annoyed at his concern. Men, they always think they know better.

He sighs. “Listen. You should just talk to him, I’m sure-”

“No,” you say, and it comes out as a whimper. The wound was still fresh. “I don’t want to.”

“Hey, he’s not gonna hurt you,” Logan reassures you. “He probably feels bad for what he said, and-”

“I said no,” you cut him off, but the sad tone in your voice doesn’t make you sound very convincing.

“And he’s not gonna apologize unless he thinks you wanna hear it. You know how Wade gets when he feels guilty, he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Well, I don’t wanna hear an apology. I just want him to be my friend again, like before. That’s it. I don’t care to know why, or how, or whatever. I just miss my friend,” you admit, and Logan sighs.

“Okay...”

“Is it alright if I go? I wanna get started on my Chemistry homework.”

“Yeah,” Logan says. “Go ahead. See you next Wednesday. Or, sooner, if you need anything.”

You leave the gym, making your way to your dorm with your head down, when you bump into a familiar red-suited man.

“Sorry,” you squeak, not even able to meet the eyes of the mask, before attempting to go past him. He stops you, grabbing at your shoulder, but you flinch away. “Please d-don’t…”

“Y/N…” Wade murmurs, filled with remorse at his rampage. He’d made you scared of him, which means it worked, but he regrets how much it hurt you. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“You’re not, huh?” Ellie, swiftly approaching, asks. “Pretty sure you already did, Deadpool.”

“I just wanted-” he starts, but Ellie, your avenging angel, cuts him off.

“You just wanted what, huh? To terrorize them more, is that it?

“Terrorize? I-”

“You what? Didn’t? Because as someone who sleeps in the same room as Y/N, I can confirm that you did. They cry in their sleep like they did the day it happened. Did you know that, that you made them cry? I guess you do now. So, leave, before I decide I’m going to follow you out the door and blow you to Hell.”

“E-Ellie, I said not to hurt him,” you quietly tell her, and she clenches her fists, grumbling.

“You did?” Wade asks.

“Of course,” you respond meekly, tapping the tips of your fingers together and avoiding the gaze of everyone around you. and Ellie places an arm around you, glaring at Wade without mercy.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Y/N. I- I just didn’t know what to do, so much was happening. I was so angry at the situation, so scared for your safety, and I took all that aggression out on you, the one person I should’ve been channeling those feelings into protecting, and I- I know I already said it, but I’m a blabbermouth with nothing else to say, so… I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, kid. I know you probably don’t care, you just wanna start over and stay the hell away from me, but I’m sorry. And my door’s always open.”

“Thank you. I forgive you,” you nod, smiling a little, You’re already starting to feel better, more like yourself.

“You what?” Ellie questions, shaking with anger. “He hurt you. He shouldn’t ever be forgiven.”

“She’s right,” Wade agrees, head down.

“Well, it’s my forgiveness, and I can do whatever the hell I want with it,” you remind them, shrugging.

“There she is,” Wade says quietly, and you can somehow tell that he’s smiling. You don’t know if it’s body language, tone of voice, or what, but he’s smiling.

“I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m gonna keep living here, and I’m gonna keep taking better care of myself, so no one has to worry about me again,” you inform him.

“Wrong goal, but I appreciate the method. I don’t mind worrying about you, kid, but I’d rather worry about you not doing your homework than about the next time you’re gonna collapse on my porch, dead.”

“What?” Ellie wonders, and you groan. “Wait, have you died?”

“Goddammit, Wade,” you grumble. “She didn’t know that.”

“H-how?”

“Not important,” you tell her.

“No, it is, Y/N. You want all of us to get over the fact that you can die, but the truth is that you need to get over the fact that we care if you die,” Wade corrects you. There’s no malice in his tone, but the words themselves cause anxiety to slither out of the pit of your stomach like a snake and curl around your lungs and heart, maintining a tight grip.

“It’s because of you not eating or sleeping enough, isn’t it?” Ellie asks. “That’s what you guys were in that fight about the other morning, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you admit, and Ellie closes her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath and trying to remain calm for your sake, for her own sake.

“Right,” she responds, sighing. “Well, I’m not letting that happen again.”

“Challenge accepted,” you chuckle, and she rolls her eyes.

“I was just on my way back to Photography. Forgot my camera. See you later.”

She makes her way in the direction of the classroom, disappearing around a corner.

“Man, if she didn’t hate me before, she sure does now,” Wade says, and you smile, shaking your head. “Really?” he asks.

“Photography is Mondays and Thursdays… And she didn’t even have her camera.”

Wade scoffs. “Well, she’s definitely taking good care of you. I always knew she would, one day. When did you two finally make it official? I’m sorry that I missed it.”

“We haven’t made anything official, Wade, she doesn’t like me like that. We’re just close friends.”

He rolls his eyes, going to playfully shove your shoulder, but you flinch away. He sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I- I was so cruel, I just wanted to say whatever i could to get you away, to protect you, from m-”

“From what? The thing Logan keeps talking about?”

“What thing?” he asks, sounding a bit panicked.

“He keeps saying that there’s this thing he knows that he would’ve told me if he’d known before but he shouldn’t tell me now. It’s super weird, but he said you were going to tell me before you- You-” You stop yourself from continuing, still, shaking a little bit at the memory. It was only the day before yesterday.

“Yeah,” he responds quietly. “It was part of the reason I did that. I just- Us being friends was already dangerous, and you being- You- You’re- I- I’m so sorry I left you with her, if I’d known, if I’d known she was pregnant...I would’ve done the right thing! I’m not that kind of dirtbag, you’ve gotta believe me, and I’m just so, so sorry. Everything that’s wrong with your life, maybe it wouldn’t have happened if I’d just thought- If I’d just thought, but I was young, and stupid, and there’s nothing I can do now except own up to it, own up to the fact that I- I am- I’m- Oh, please…” He practically falls into you, wrapping his arms around your neck. You feel him shake with sobs, and you cry, too, but with a different emotion. Not regret, but happiness.

“You? You’re him?” you ask, and he readjusts himself, backing away from you.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before hugging, I just didn’t think it was gonna be so hard, and you’re my best friend, and I- I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m so sorry that I’m your father.”

“You are? You’re sorry?” you ask, knowing that he’s apologizing because he regrets it, regrets you and your entire existence.

“Not in the way you’re thinking! You- You deserve so much better, I wanted so much better for you,” he reassures you, or, at least, attempts to.

“How do you even know?”

“I just… I talked to Xavier to see if he had any connections that could help me find your father, and he said he did, but he insisted that I give him a sample of my DNA to see if they match before he used his connections. I laughed it off, but then… it was a match.”

“How’d you get my DNA?” You wonder.

“Oh, I stuck a cotton swab in your mouth while you were sleeping. Wasn’t hard, you’re a really heavy sleeper,” he says, and you have a faint memory of the dream you had about a week ago where you were abducted by aliens that wanted to harvest your DNA to create genetically modified pet humans for their home planet. You laugh.

“So, you found out it was a match, and then… You were angry about it? Hated that the Wilson family legacy wasn’t going to end with you?”

“No. I was angry, yeah, but at myself. I was irresponsible, and my best friend in the whole world sufferred because of it. I never recognized your mom the times I’d seen her, and we had sex!”

“You had sex with my mom? Bro code violation alert!” you joke, and he chuckles bitterly.

“Right?” he responds. “But… I don’t even know where to go from here. Things can’t go back to normal, that’s not okay. I need to step up. And, even if it was the right thing to do, going back to normal… I get the feeling that you’re not gonna be that comfortable around me for a while. I was… I was just like my dad. My worst fucking fear.”

“You’re not him, okay? I promise.”

“I should be comforting you,” he says, stepping towards you. Out of renewed instinct, you step back. He’s heartbroken.

“Try- Try not to take it personally, I’m like this with just about everybody,” you attempt to make him feel better, but he shakes his head.

“You haven’t been like this with me, not before- Before I did what I did. Said those things, those awful, untrue things. Why did I say those things? They weren’t the truth, they were the opposite of it. I love hearing from you, it makes every day better. Finding you on my couch is a great feeling, knowing that someone as great as you trusts me, sees me as someone who can keep them safe.”

“And my memes?” You ask in a sarcastically accusatory tone.

“The funniest,” he replies. “Can I- Can I give you a hug?”

You nod, and he surges forward, wrapping you up in his arms and spinning you around.

“I always hoped it’d be like that,” you quietly admit, and he beams.

“Listen, we can talk later at dinner. I think you’ve got a certain girl you need to talk to, and she and her metal accomplice are approaching.”

“I think she’s his accomplice,” you correct with a laugh.

“Gotta bounce before the hardest guy on Earth ropes me into another mission. I’ll be back, though, kid.”

“Yeah. See you soon…”

“Wade’s fine for now, unless you wanna call me something else. We can negotiate later, ‘kay? Love you, bye.” Wade scurries down the hall, not realizing that he’s going towards the dorms, not the exit.

“Wade Wilson!” calls Piotr from behind you, and you turn around to see that Ellie is far closer to you than she is to Piotr, having gone faster on her smaller, lighter legs.

“Uh, hello…” you say dumbly.

“Based on your expression, I’d say that discussion went well.”

“Very well. Thank you for giving him the opportunity to talk to me alone, I’m sure you didn’t wanna do that.”

“I didn’t, but I figured it was the best option. Tell me more on the way to the dorm.”

“Well, uh… He apologized, a lot. Not just for the fights.”

“For letting you die?”

“No. Worse.”

“Holy shit, what’d he do, and why haven’t I heard about it?” She asks, tense.

“Because I didn’t know,” you reply defensively. “He’s- He’s my biological father, Ellie.”

“Whoa… Seriously? How long has he known?”

“I don’t know, but not long, the DNA tests were recently. He just wanted to help me find my dad and when he asked Xavier if he had any way of helping, the Professor said that he had to submit a sample to be tested. Turn’s out the old man’s hunch was right. You… You still wanna be friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I?” Ellie wonders.

“I just- I know you don’t like Wade very much, and I’m technically his daughter, so…”

“So? That doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore,” Ellie argues, and then covers her mouth.

“You love me?”

“Yeah, but just, like, in a friend way,” she plays it off rather smoothly, in her opinion, but you sigh in disappointment before you can stop yourself. “Wait, do you love me in a not-friend way?”

“Not really sure what you wanna hear,” you respond, feeling the recently-sealed cracks in your heart refracturing.

“Do you?” she asks.

You’re silent as the two of you walk to your shared dorm.

“Y/N, I asked you a question. Do you love me as a friend, or as more?”

You feel overheated and nauseous, that’s how nervous you are. You attempt to take some steadying breaths before answering: “More.”

“Oh, thank god…” she sighs. “I- I told you on Monday, when you fell asleep with me. But you were asleep, so, you didn’t hear me… Duh… I sound so stupid right now, don’t I?”

“No, not at all! Jeez, today just keeps getting better and better, I mean it!” You exclaim.

“Can- Can I kiss you?” Ellie asks nervously, and your eyes widen, but you nod. She takes your face in her hands and just goes for it, pressing her lips to yours. You respond immediately, wrapping your arms around her neck while her hands slip past your face and into your hair, tugging gently. You let out a small, quiet moan at that, and you can feel her smirk a little. She kisses you faster, pushing her body closer to yours, and your knees give out. She catches you in the nick of time, laughing a bit at how easily flustered you are as she nudges you toward the bed, sitting there with you. “Your knees are right, we probably shouldn’t rush into things.”

“Yeah…” you admit, resting your head on her shoulder.

“I love you…” She mumbles. “I’ve loved you for a long time, actually.”

“Same here. When did you know?”

Ellie replies: “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“I can tell you first, if you want,” you offer.

“Yeah, do that…” She says.

“I just realized that every time I was upset, you were there, making me feel better. Even if you didn’t know it. Every time my mom hit me, or I got stabbed by an asshole mugger, or I was about to faint from hunger… You were right there. Making my life better just by existing.”

“I wish I could’ve been right there in person, to help you,” Ellie says, and you shake your head.

“That’s not the point. The point is that you did, without even trying. You always make me happy, without even trying.You just have to be there and everything is better.”

“That’s really nice… I feel dumb now,” Ellie confesses.

“It’s not dumb! Probably not, I mean…” you reply, nuzzling her chest a bit as you try to get a bit cozier.

“Um...You probably don’t know this, but I used to get in fights a lot before we met. And Piotr would always lecture me, telling me it wasn’t heroic to fight out of anger. That I should fight for something, not because of something. That I should be aware of the consequences that come with fighting, and truly think about them before I did. I never understood what he meant, and then we met and became friends… Then best friends…

“I didn’t even realize that before every fight, even the ones I was assigned, I’d think about how I was going to make the world a better place for you. I’d think about what you would think if you heard what I was doing. I- I made a mistake at one point, got angry over nothing and got into another stupid, pointless fight. It was the first time in awhile I’d heard Colossus’s spiel, and I realized my thinking process with every world he spoke. It all just made me think of how I feel about you. You’d made me a better person, more mindful of the consequences of my actions, my thoughtless, immature violence. That’s when I knew.”

“Oh, shut up! That’s way better than mine and not embarrassing at all! Show-off,” you remark, and she chuckles.

“That was fucking beautiful!” Wade wails from behind the door.

“I think I liked it better when you two weren’t friends,” Ellie comments, and you smile at her, shaking your head. She takes your hand in hers and squeezes gently.

“Oh, come on. You can’t hate him. I mean, I wouldn’t exist without him, for a few reasons. I mean, he’s the one who passed me the gene for a healing factor, even if his was recessive before. And, I mean, he’s the sperm donor either way.”

“I heard that!” he shouts, and Ellie smiles at you, planting another kiss on your lips.

You could get used to this.

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