#tw mentions of self harm

[queenie-blackthorn]

in honor of world mental health day heres my story below the cut :)

kinda hard to talk abt this cause its somewhat triggering and ik theres gonna be ppl who think im just an emo 15 y/o, but i swear im not tryna be dramatic. im tryna make peace with my past, and also show others that despite everything, you can make it.

also, im tryna show that healing isnt all sunshine and daises. theres the good, the bad, and the ugly. you can and will survive it all

tw: sewerslide attempt, abusive parents, self harm, violence ig ?

ive died two times in my life so far.

the first time, it was my parents who killed me. december 31st, 2020, ~1.15am. i remember dragging across the hallway in my house, a throbbing sensation in my thigh, the mark already turning purple. i walked past my younger sisters' room, where my cousin was sleeping over with them, and i remember climbing into bed, hugging my pillow, crying against the pillow. that night, it was my innocence that died. my childhood happiness, per se. i remember swearing to myself in those final moments before darkness that id never forget that day. december 31st, 2020, ~1.15am.

the time between my two deaths was filled with barely anything other than self loathing. i remember trying to set goals for myself, reasons to live. i tried out new hobbies. i was never able to meet those goals, and all the hobbies bored me.

i met some of the best people ever during that time. i also met some of the worst. i might sound dramatic, cause im young and impressionable, but the people i met during that time genuinely shaped who i am. i dont wanna act like im an old soul or anything, cause im sure that in a few years imma look back and think, "shit, i was really immature." but i matured faster than others my age. i found myself faster, found things i liked, found love, found out i hated being in love.

and then i died again.

this was a recent death. june 22, 2023. my mental health had been deteriorating for months prior – i still have scars on my arms.

it was a slower death compared to the last one. i started dying at around 4.00pm. it went on for an hour before the pain became unbearable and i confessed to my parents. i didnt want to go to the hospital, i was scared of what theyd do. i threw up seven times before giving in at about 8.00pm. they took me to the hospital. i was told told me i was lucky to be alive, that my liver was still functional. i didnt feel lucky. i felt like death wouldve been less painful. my head was spinning

i died in that hospital bed, at ~9.40pm, with my eyes wide open, my mom sitting near me. my thoughts at the time were along the lines of this:

im quite literally a child in the eyes of the world. ive done nothing. i have a psychology exam tomorrow. i have a book im halfway done writing, and a new story thats been brewing in my head for months. but if i die now, ill never get to finish any of that. ill never succeed. ill never be able to spit in the faces of the girls who bullied me, of the teachers who doubted me. why would i do this to myself? why would i rob myself of that chance?

so i died. but not the same way as last time. this time, it was the poisonous me that died, the me that whispered in my ear that my life would amount to nothing, that everyone else had it better, that you either succeed or you dont.

and when i died the second time, something happened that didnt happen the first time.

i was reborn.

at the time of me writing this, its been less than four months since my rebirth. in those four months:

i decided to change the world somehow. not necessarily by finding the cure to cancer or anything, id be satisfied if it was just a cute lil video i made going viral. as long as theres someone out there who i changed

i finished about six chapters of my book

i began writing the story that had been brewing in my head

i started lifting weights to make myself feel better abt how i looked

i got closer to god. stopped missing prayer

i moved schools, leaving behind both bullies and friends

i started focusing on my studies

i tried to fix my relationships with my parents and my siblings

dont get me wrong. none of these are completed. im still an extreme case of nobody-ness. i havent finished writing either of my stories. i still skip out on working out a lot i still only do the bare minimum in terms of religion. im still struggling to catch up in school to make up for my three years of burnout. my relationship with my family is still kinda weird

and i still feel like im dying sometimes. its not like i changed overnight and all those suicidal thoughts and feelings of drowning just disappeared when the sunrays came up. theres still a lot of issues in my life.

but i have faith in myself. in my ability to change the things that can be changed. in creating happiness where theres room for it to be made.

and if finding happiness a losing battle?

well, ill fight like its the fucking boudican revolt.

#mental health day #world mental health day #october 10 #tw sewerslide attempt #tw mentions of death #tw mentions of self harm #tw self destructive behavior #road to recovery

[the-gray-ghosty]

Tattoos that i think Sam should've had in Spn;

A rose on his lower back that covers the knife scar from Cold Oak

Lillies and Carnations on his right shoulder for Mary and Jess (their favorite flowers)

The letters "D E A N" across his left hand's knuckles (and a small pentagram on his thumb's knuckle instead of a letter)

"Bitch" on the inner wrist of his right hand (Dean has "jerk" on his)

New (powerful) angel and demon warding sigils on his ribs; in Enochian and Latin (nothing is ever possessing him again)

A small dragon sitting on a stack of books on his left forearm to remember Kevin and Charlie

A semicolon on his left wrist and feathers on his right wrist that cover up scars

#hbo spn #sam winchester #tattooos #sam winchester deserves tattoos #spn #supernatural #hc #au #mentions of self harm #tw mentions of self harm #tw brif mentions of suicide attempt #semi colin tattoo #mine

[desi-girll]

Page 99 of 366

Dear diary 🧸,

i'm feeling quite good and optimistic today! based on yesterday's update, it might have been evident that i was struggling with some negative thoughts about myself and i was! i even woke up this morning feeling miserable but as the day progressed, i started feeling better overall about myself and things started looking up! and i realised that it isn't as bad as it seems. this is the first spiral I've had in over 6 months since the last time i tw: self harmed and I'm actually quite proud of myself for getting through it without relapsing and breaking my 6 month + clean streak! i don't know what actually triggered it though, but yes self love and self acceptance always comes first!! some good comfort food also helps!

love,

me

#dear diary 🧸 #life in 2024 🍓 #tw mentions of self harm #❀ log ❀ april

[idontreallyexistyet]

it’s probably says a lot about my mental health…

vent under cut!

that when my sister is upset she like to hit me in the and as hard as she can.

that I would rather make myself deaf with how loud my music is than have to talk with my family.

that for comfort when I’m going through a depressive episode or an panic attack I go to streamers, YouTubers, or you all on Tumblr then go the any family member.

that I came out as Pansexual, Agender, and Asexual to my Aunt and Uncle before my parents.

that my friends buy me better gifts then my parents or sister.

that I purposely make scratches or scabs bleed again when I’m really upset.

#Vent post #tw mentions of self harm #Family issues #Mentions of depression #Mentions of anxiety #pansexual #agender #asexual #Coming out #Streamer comfort #YouTuber comfort #Me irl

[sardonic-the-writer]

One hundered and forty three days of persevering. Holy shit. Here's to one hundered and forty three fucking more

#more of a serious post #i just checked this app #holy shit #tw mentions of self harm #tw #slight tw

[wasionlymadetocry]

The troubled teen industry isn't anything new. In fact, I think it's more well-known than it's ever been in the past. It seems like everyone I know has had their own experiences within it. Somehow their's seem worse than mine ever was. Does that make mine worth less? Or is that just another way of thinking that got me placed in psychiatric care in the first place?

The first time I was ever admitted to a mental health facility was when I was twelve. I was in sixth grade, and my birthday had only recently passed. When my family had come home from eating out that night, I found a razor. The type you use for construction. I remember staying up way later than I usually did, and I self-harmed for the first time.

I was scared. Scared of the blood, of consequences, of the relief it brought. I don't think I hid for very long before I broke down and told someone. My friends knew I was sad, but not depressed I don't think. I told our little group at the lunch table, and by the end of fifth period I was in the guidance counselor's office.

My counselor was kind, but the school officer legally required to be in the room was not. She acted like the whole ordeal was a waste of time. That it would have been easier to have called the cops and have me Baker Acted. My counselor wanted to call my parents. Have them pick me up, take me home, and have me voluntarily admitted. A supposedly far less traumatizing experience than the former. I suppose it was.

It was exceedingly difficult to get ahold of my parents that day, which just made the cop more and more irritated at me. My mother works from home and was in a meeting when I tried to call her. Even after being told it was an emergency, it was still more important that she finished her stupid work call. My father didn't answer the phone either. But he listened to my guidance counselor's voicemail and immediately called back. At least it seemed like one parent prioritized me over work.

All of my times in the system are so jumbled up I can't remember what details belong to which visit. I'm pretty sure for my first-ever visit I went almost right away. I was admitted to a psychiatric unit in a local hospital, and then I was trapped there for five days. Those visits never really help much. You spend more time in the emergency room going through the process of being admitted than talking to a therapist once you're on the unit.

All I ever did in that unit was sit around and wait for the doctor to say I was healthy enough to go home. It was a never-ending cycle of waking up, eating breakfast, doing fake school work, having lunch, going to our rooms for quiet hour, doing jack shit until dinner, having dinner, visitation hours, showering, then sleeping. And you do that every fucking day without change until you're not anywhere close to stable enough to go home but they don't want you any longer.

You sleep in a shitty bed, in a cold room, with no comfort other than the thought that maybe you're a little bit more sane than the kid in the bedroom across from yours. You have the endless discomfort of being on medications that fuck up your body, and that everyone will look at you like you're going to snap once you go back to your everyday life.

All of my friends decided they didn't want me to be around anymore. For the first time in my life, I had absolutely nobody. And it would remain that way for 10 more years. And my depression would only get more and more severe over that decade. There's so much more to it that takes so long to discuss, and takes even longer to put into eligible words.

maybe one day i will

#mental health #troubled teen industry #tw depressing stuff #tw mentions of self harm #not beta read #ignore any typos

[woomycritiques543]

Vivziepop liked this... which is amazingly hypocritical since she shit on Dirg^ntlemn's work just because he critiqued her and called him "NOT A WRITER!" and then also shit on Kyra's work and vagued about how much she hates her and called her a "CUNT!" in regards to Kyra's work. Meanwhile, it's fine to call critique, regular critique, "hate" whenver it's towards her instead of anyone else.

Vivziepop sure likes to contridict herself, huh?

She's also still trying to make overworking yourself into self harm look like "QUIRKY! ALL IN THE DAYS WORK! :D" and is also not just doing this to herself but her employees as well by having them rush out multiple episodes in a single year. It just makes me want to yell "PLEASE GET HELP!" but I know that she wont listen so both me and many others have to just wait for the "train" to "combust" whenever we see this, yet can do nothing about it since people see self damaging behaviors as "normal" in the animation industry.

Like no- NewDeal4animation exists for a reason, damaging yourself and others in the workplace is NOT FUCKING OK!

STOP ENCOURAGING SELF DAMAGE!

PLEASE GET HELP!

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #vivziepop critique #tw mentions of self harm #she needs some actual help... honestly... this is hurting herself and other people... it's horrible! #take a break woman. an ACTUAL break. for the love of god please!

[goblinlovesmusicals]

📎 (For any ocs you'd like to talk about <3)

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

Tox has Schizaoffective disorder, Solipsism syndrome, borderline personality disorder, and general psychopathy and sociopathy. She also doesn't care about hurting herself with her expiriments and has an addiction to the drug form of adrenaline.

She had a great many signs of this in her youth, but her parents didn't want to believe it.

What some have remarked as odd is that her parents were both completely fine cats, and Tox turned out so bad (I'm not saying everyone with these conditions are evil, but Tox definitely is).

Plenty of her issues are likely the result of genetic factors, but her mother, Foxglove, was born into a cat mill and thrown out when they discovered she was deaf, and her father, Inkerlin, was unwanted and abandoned at the Junkyard hours after his birth. There is a huge part of her family history that is unknown, so it's impossible to know exactly how and why she's like this.

She knows her mind is damaged, but she can't find it in herself to care or do much about it.

#cats the musical #tox the mad scientist #cats oc #tw drug abuse #tw mental illness #tw mentions of self harm

[aethslove]

netami.png on tiktok // writing snippet #3 by me // unnamed poem by me // writing snippet #5 by me // text message from me to my best friend // writing snippet #2 by me

#aeth’s writing!!! #web weaving #parallels #to be held by a mother and to be held by a friend are two different things #one must not mistake one for the other #i don’t know how to do this stuff #hey irl moots you didn’t see this #i don’t know how they all fit but they do. #tw mentions of self harm #cw mentions of self harm

[creativesplat]

I had to draw Aizawa’s emo shirt that appeared in one panel. 

#This shirt has been living in my head rent free #I wish I had the courage to wear a shirt like this its awesome #is it white with black stripes or red with black stripes? I have no idea so I did both :) #its so emo! #also Aizawa having old scars canonically... just #I don't know what it is about capable��role-models in fiction who have mental health problems but it really resonates #anyway #aside from that #this boi has an emo fashion sense and I love it #tw old scars #tw mentions of self harm #aizawa shouta #shota aizawa #apparently it can be spelt both ways which way should it be?? #eraserhead #mha #bnha #also dadzawa with little Eri melts my heart

[rottingrancidangel]

Self Harm is its own addiction. IDC what any mother fucker says.

Cigerrettes.

Alcohol.

Weed.

Acid.

Pills.

Shrooms.

Meth.

Crack.

And yes even FUCKING fetyanl.

I had no limits. As to self harm. Not a damn fucking boundary created for self preservation.

Starving myself.

Dehydrating myself.

Cutting myself..

With notebook spirals and scissors. Pencil sharpener blades and knifes of all kinds galore.

My most prominent scar? Steak knife.

I was sooooo fucked up.

in my heart in my head in my soul

I w a s fucking soulSICK.

but but but but but but but but but but

despite the drugs. the demostic violence. And honestly,

just having a really shitty brain (ADHD ANXIETY DYSLEXIA BIPOLAR 1 W/ PYSCHOTIC FEATURES and yes yes my fave my fave, MY WHOLLLLEERR FUCKING IDENTITY IS CORRUPT because yes I was diagnosed in two different facilities as being borderline. BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER. bpd. Bpd. BPD. FUCKING B FUCKING P FUCKING D. but I digress)

I'm making strides.

I'm making progress.

fucking PROGRESS.

I've been clean for almost a full year from my slip up. 444. Party with the angels. Pray with the spirits..Im truly happy for once in my soul sick life.

I have a family. Baby Bastet my kitty. I adopted Sadie Baby the dog when I adopted my bf. I love the turtles that got rehomed with me. I love love love alllllll my plants. I love and cherish my boyfriend. I love and adore my two stepchildren.

self harm, man, it fucking sucks, it's ugly, it's cruel and it's awful. just fucking awful.

I hated myself so much but for what.

Im growing now. starting to finally bloom.

self harm.

watching someone I consider my child go down the spiral of self hatred and self loathing and soulsickness.

it's heartbreaking.

I can go through it. I learned and am learning.

how to live. how to love.

I pray they find their way.

because this isn't just me anymore.

#tw mentions of self harm #actually mentally ill #actaully mentally ill #actually bpd #actually adhd #actually self harm #mentions of violence #self harm #vent #vent blog #serenity is disturbed

[chewriting]

This is a very desperate request.

Does anyone have the title of a very specific DirkJake fanfiction that (trigger warning here) starts with Dirk trying to kill himself? I recall only fragments of it as it’s been ages since I’ve read it. But I remember it being a nonSburb AU and Dave being a major director. At one point Dirk dug his fingernails into his feet and had to hide the injuries with slippers so his friends don’t see his self harm.

I remember it being on Archive of Our Own but it’s been so long I’m not sure anymore. I have been on the hunt for this fanfiction for what feels like years.

Any help I would greatly appreciate!

#homestuck #dirk strider #roxy lalonde #jane crocker #jake english #dave strider #john egbert #rose lalonde #jade harley #dirkjake #suicide #tw suicide #suicide tw #tw self harm #tw mentions of self harm

[lcpislczulii]

ooc;;

The human experience is wild. One second you can be just fine and dandy and then the next you wanna slam your head into a wall. We stan 👍

#tw mentions of self harm #I think? #I guess this counts? #ehhh either way #my day is going fantastic as you can see

[niborssideblog]

It took me we'll into my 20's to realise I was trans. Tumblr has made that journey both easier and so, so much harder.

As a child I don't think I really knew gender was a thing. I felt more comfortable playing with the boys and a slight disconnect with the girls but thought nothing of it, I wanted a beard when I grew up, lot's of undiagnosed adhd moments, the girls thought I was weird, I got bullied, eventually the boys followed suit

As a young teen I felt uncomfortable and like there was something wrong with me (other than the adhd) but I couldn't quite figure out what, got bullied some more.

As a slightly older teen I learned about internalised misogyny and thought that was the problem (and some of it was tbh)

I decided I didn't want to be that person anymore so I made an effort to get over it:

I got over my extreme hatred for the colour pink.

Stopped forcing myself to watch horror movies that gave me nightmares just so I could look tougher.

Stopped forcing myself to participate in activities I hated but did anyway because I wanted to be as "ungirly" as possible.

Tried out some traditionally "girly" activities, found a couple I enjoyed, accepted that I still disliked others and that was OK

Realised that trans women exist and decided to support them (idk how I didn't realise trans men were also a thing back then)

Became more supportive of others

Made an active effort to be less judgemental.

Followed more feminism centric blogs here on tumblr

Accidentally started following some r*dfem blogs.

Didn't really buy into the whole "all men are evil" thing at first but everyone was reblogging it and the common notion was that disagreeing made someone a bad person so I went along with it.

Started to belive it eventually.

Became less supportive and more judgemental again.

I was scared of every guy I met.

I was scared of my male relatives.

Internalised quite a lot of it.

I knew it was wrong and I felt like a bad person for it.

My depression and anxiety got worse.

I eventually started to expect the worst of *everyone* I met.

In my early twenties and I was tired of it, I was depressed, unhappy and hated myself to a point where suicide started to look like an valid option, I'd even had it all planned out and the materials for it ready in my bedside drawer just in case I ever worked up the nerve to actually do it.

I knew that was kinda fucked up though, so I started reading self help books, got into new hobbies and most importantly:

I spent less time on tumblr and more time interacting with my friends, family and colleagues.

I slowly stopped seeing the men in my life as a threat, and started seeing them as human again.

My mental health improved - I still had depressive episodes but not to the point of wanting to die so I packed up my "maybe I'll kill myself kit" into a box and moved it into my assigned storage room in the basement of my apartment building.

That's also around the time I started to question my own gender, and I felt so fucking guilty about it.

I felt like an idiot.

Like a traitor.

Like even thinking about not being a woman anymore, about *maybe* being a man made me some unforgivable horrible person.

I tried to blame it on the internalised misogyny again but deep down I knew that wasn't it, I didn't know internalised misandry was a thing back then.

I started harming myself and the "mikms kit" moved back into my bedroom.

Then Covid-19 happened and I had so much anxiety about it but I with all the quarantine and working in shifts and homeoffice I suddenly had a lot of time to myself, to really and truly contemplate life, the world and my own existence.

Sometimes I felt better about it, sometimes worse, almost made one serious attempt at ending everything.

Got back on tumblr, unfollowed and blocked a lot of blogs that parrots the same kind of fake woke-isms that had made me feel suicidal in the first place.

I actively searched for people like me online, followed trans positive blogs, threw out all the feminine clothes that made me feel worse, kept a couple that didn't, started collecting poloshirts and hawaiian print shirts and came ot to my friends.

I met other trans people, tried out some different names and pronouns, bought a binder, some packing gear and new glasses.

I signed myself up for therapy so I can eventually start hrt and learned how to use makeup to look more masculin.

I feel so freaking euphoric whenever someone uses the name I'm trying out (and may even keep), or when random strangers gender me correctly.

I rejoice at the pure happiness and glee I feel every time I look in the mirror and see how far I've already come.

Sure, there are still bad days, sometimes even really bad ones, but all in all my life truly has changed for the better:

I haven't harmed myself in almost 2 years.

I've finally thrown away the "mikms kit".

I'm (a little) less anxious.

I'm still not sure about my sexuality but now I finally feel like I've got a whole life to figure it out.

I'm no longer embarrassed about "traditionally gender hobbies"

I have more confidence, both in myself and in others.

I'm more sociable than I've ever been.

I've gotten better at setting boundaries.

I'm more comfortable with my body.

I'm in my late 20's now and making real longterm plans for the first time in my life.

I may still have a long way to go until I've reached my personal transitioning goals but I'm confident that I'll make it.

I'm a proud queer dude, and I'm the happiest I've been since probably kindergarten.

It DOES get better.

#tw mentions of suicide #tw mentions of self harm #tw #gender journey #tw mentions of depression #trans men #it gets better

[angelwiththeblue-box]

bro the worst part of a relapse is showering after

that shit hurts like a motherfucker

IT HURTS SO MUCH

#val answers #w i f e #tw mentions of self harm

[how-gross]

Trigger Warning: heavy sexuality and gender crisis, mentions of self-h@rm ideation and relapsing, nausea and fear of throwing up. View on your own discretion.

June 7, 2022

Pride month, I thought, was supposed to make me feel good.

But now I’m in my bedroom, with a heavy feeling in my stomach, sunk all the way down. I can’t cry, my therapist had told me that the reason for that is because I’m a person who can’t cry as easily. And although that sounds easy and true, I wish I could cry easily. At this point I don’t care if it get seen as a sensitive and weak for it (I do care, just not at this specific moment in time), I just want to cry and get my feelings out instead of considering self-h@rm in order to fix all my problems.

Because that’s what’s happening to me right now. My mind spiraling with thoughts of “am I omniromantic?”, “am I biromantic?”, “am I Panromantic?” And “am I Pangender” or “am I Bigender”. There’s not as easy of a solution to it either; I can’t label myself as unlabeled because unlabelled is too much of a universal term for me. If I had an actual label, I’d feel much more finalized, more real. But I don’t feel real, I don’t feel complete, I just feel empty and heavy and weighted, like cotton after being dunked into water. The only label I feel complete with is asexual because it feels so simple to me despite how people take it, but even then I get crises about that sometimes.

And then I get scared for many reasons: what if I do change my sexual or gender identity, what happens after that? What if that new identity label is wrong and drives me down a new road of insanity? What if I offend someone because I didn’t realize that that specific gender and sexuality label is extremely offensive due to how questionable it is?

And the most that drives me up and down a wall and down again: what if I’m just faking? What if all of this is just a teenage phase that I’m going through; that, once I become an adult, I realize was so stupid and inconsiderate did me to even consider myself to be anything remotely close to queer. That I’m just a cishet woman whose desperately seeking attention and validation, who doesn’t truly care about the community itself, about her own identity, and was only going through a phase like all teens do.

Because then I have to ask myself; why? Why, if I’m just faking being queer, why do I feel like this? Why do I feel empty and heavy and sick? Why is this affecting me so much more physically than I thought it would?? Why does my stomach feel full and heavy, to the point of me being physically sick and feeling like I’m about to vomit at anytime?? Why am I getting frustrated, to the point of tears due to the little instances?? Why am I literally considering relapsing and h@rming myself over something I’m supposedly faking? Why is this affecting me so much, emotionally and physically, if I’m just faking all of it for attention and praise? Why?

I don’t know anymore…

#why isn’t this easy #it was easy for everyone else. why not for me? it’s not fair. #vent #gender crisis #sexuality crisis #identity crisis #pride month 2022 #tw #trigger warning #tw mention of vomit #tw mentions of self harm #tw nausea