This is just an idle thought brought up by what will doubtless be obvious circumstances, but: trauma recovery isn’t linear and that’s hard.

Like, you can have whole years of relatively good success and then just bottom out for no particular reason, and it sucks, because it feels like…  It feels like, on the one hand, maybe you conned yourself into thinking you could ever be improving and therefore you’re terrible, or, alternatively, maybe you conned everyone into thinking you had problems to begin with and now you’re just acting the part for sympathy.  And on top of that elaborately pointless circle of self-loathing, the part of you that knows you aren’t lying about any of it is just screaming in rage because look at all that progress down the drain.

Like, for various reasons I have some pretty hardcore PTSD wrt dentists, and I improved a lot over the last few years.  Dentists and I will never be on good terms and exam chairs will almost invariably set me off, but I could sit still through a whole appointment and keep my breathing mostly regular, which is honestly as good as it might ever get.  And I had years of that, of ‘as good as it’ll get.’

And then with no warning my latest appointment was a train wreck.  I spent two days almost totally useless before the appointment even started.  At the appointment, I almost threw up when something was placed in my mouth, and I almost started crying about halfway through, and I was hyperventilating so badly I genuinely thought I was going to pass out in the chair.  Nothing I could do had any effect.  And like…that’s still a lot better than what used to go down when I went to the dentist (I don’t remember almost six years of dental appointments because I was so out of it, but I know there was one time where I physically attacked someone when they tried to bring instruments near my teeth, and another where I ran away), but God, I felt like a fucking failure.  Like I said: all that fucking work for all that fucking progress, and it was like I’d NEVER EVEN TRIED.

Now, I’ve hit this sort of badness before, where the bottom just kind of drops out of all my hard work (um…one time a dentist put me on laughing gas to try to calm me down, and we all learned that it’s possible to OD on nitrous oxide, needless to say that Did Not Help and instilled an even more virulent hatred of Spongebob than I had before).  So I was able to kind of nip that one in the bud and point out to myself that, hey, I was able to speak during the appointment and neither I nor the dentist was injured, so it’s a net win.  But…like…I feel like no one talks about the way that you can be doing better, you can be doing a lot better, and then you can still just…lose it.  

And it doesn’t mean you’ve lost progress on your recovery, or that you have to repeat all the same work as before.  It’s just that piecing yourself back together is hard, it’s exhausting, and sometimes your brain just gives out at the worst possible moment, like a muscle that’s been overworked, and it sucks, but it’s not the end of the line.  Do what you have to do to take care of yourself (if you’re me, drink some gin and watch some movies) and get some sleep if you can, and then take a deep breath and look at the situation again.  Have some compassion for the younger self who was subjected to that trauma, instead of beating up on them for being affected by it.  People have emotions, it’s what makes us people, so try not to crucify yourself for feeling deeply and being scarred by the experience.

Y'all nothing makes me realize how low my bar for being ‘well-treated’ is as fast as having a conversation with my extended family.

Problems I currently have include:

  • My aunt who is purportedly coming up to visit tomorrow and expects us to drop everything on the off chance that she actually deigns to drive all the way to Maine and honor us with her presence
    • Relatedly, the sect of my mother’s family who only speaks to her when they’re struggling with the fact that her mother is possibly the worst human in the world 
  • My grandparents who are currently refusing to speak to my father because they’re awful people
  • My other aunt who is just a manipulative bitch and has currently convinced my father (her brother) that she’s on his side against their parents and that’s going to be ugly when it inevitably
  • My grandmother on Mom’s side who is SOMEHOW not dead yet and wow, God, please
  • The ongoing misapprehension that my extended family seems to labor under in which I actually give a good goddamn about them
  • The even more dangerous belief they seem to be possessed of in which they have any say about what I do
  • Their absolute delusion that they have an automatic right to being involved in our lives because well, we’re family

My overwhelming and undeniable bitterness about this is not news, but what IS very annoying is that:

  • I am bitter
  • Brenneth is also very bitter in the scene I’m trying to write here
  • To my shock, writing someone being bitter while feeling bitter yourself is a good way to spiral into being bitter about other things

As such I have gotten Literally Nothing Done and I’m really aggravated about all of it.

Tags: PLEASE FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS do not reblog like obviously don't reblog this incredibly petty spiteful rant wtf would you reblog this for moran is a fucking train wreck moran has issues: news at eleven honestly you know that feeling of being universally furious with everything the world has to offer for no reason whatsoever that is me right now like! a woman brushed into me five minutes ago and i puffed up like an angry hawk she literally barely touched me and i was just like 'fuCK OFF' i didn't say it of course because i'm not a fucking asshole but the sentiment was real for no reason! i am just universally enraged about everything because my fucking aunt thinks that she SOMEHOW has the right to just fucking show up and be like 'lalala everything is F I N E' like no bitch get out of my house if you wanted to ~reconnect with your sister~ you could have done it thirty years ago when she took your trash-ass devil parents to court you don't get to show up thirty years later and pretend everything is peachy keen like bless your little heart but no that's not how this works oh you're sorry that makes evERYTHING BETTER jesus christ anyway props to my mother for not FUCKING MURDERING SOMEONE because tbh some murder would have been justified but like tbqh i hope my aunt actually does come up to see us because my mother's exact words to me were 'you're twenty and you have the right to speak your mind' so like i really do hope she comes out because i think that would be a Fun Chat

Anonymous asked: please, what is "gaslighting"?

Okay, this is a good question, I’m going to try to be clear.

So, gaslighting is fundamentally a method of psychological abuse intended to make the victim question their own sanity.  The word’s been in use for about a century, common since about the 60′s, originating with a 1938 stage play called Gas Light featuring a woman whose husband would manipulate small parts of their environment (notably the gas lights in their house) and then insist to her and to everyone else that she was remembering incorrectly, mistaken, or outright delusional.  Gaslighting basically means telling someone with absolute confidence that you’re right and their memory is flawed, and you’d be surprised how damaging it can be to a person.  It’s a terrifying experience, to believe you can’t trust your own mind, and it makes an abuse victim a much easier target.  It’s considered something of a hallmark of psychological abuse–so much so that it’s used in brainwashing techniques.

For example:

Sue* invites Jane over to her house for a playdate.  Let’s assume they’re ten or so–old enough to ‘know better.’  Jane brings a doll, and Sue likes the doll very much.  At the end of the playdate, Jane goes to pick up her doll and take it home, and Sue starts crying and won’t let go of Jane’s doll.  

“This is my doll, I want it back,” says Jane.

“This is MY doll and you’re lying!” Sue shouts.  “You’re trying to steal it from me!”

“No, I’m not,” Jane says, “I brought this doll here in the first place.”  She’s confused, because she knows the doll is hers, but Sue is her friend and, normally, Jane would trust her word.

Sue insists that the doll is hers, and starts screaming for her mother.  Sue’s mother shows up and wants to know what’s wrong.

“Jane’s trying to steal my doll!” Sue cries.  

Sue’s mother looks at the doll and knows that Sue doesn’t own it, she remembers seeing Jane bring the doll over, but she says, “Jane, give Sue her doll back and stop lying.”

“I’m not lying!” Jane says, starting to cry.  She remembers bringing the doll over, she remembers getting it for Christmas, she remembers all this, but…Sue and Sue’s mother seem awfully sure.  And Sue’s mother is a grown-up.  “It’s my doll!”

Sue’s mother reaches down and picks up the doll and looks at it.  “I remember buying this for Sue,” the mother says, looking disappointed down at Jane.  “I can’t believe you would lie about something like this.”

“I’m not lying,” Jane insists, crying harder.

“Then you’re imagining it,” Sue’s mother says, handing the doll back to Sue.  “Don’t be such a baby, stop crying.  And get your imagination under control.”

Sue, doll in hand, immediately stops crying.  She smiles at Jane, and says, “Or maybe you’re just crazy.”

Names/toy in question have been changed

Or, alternatively:

Yam-In-Chief: My inauguration was yuuuge, biggest inauguration in history.

Media: Um?  No?  No it wasn’t?

Yam-In-Chief: Yes it was!

Media: It literally wasn’t, we can prove it, look, we have photographic evidence and statistics.

Yam-In-Chief: You’re fake news!  You’re lying to the American public!

Media: ??????????

So, on the subject of resisting gaslighting: trust yourself.  If you believe you can’t, if for example you suffer hallucinatory experiences that make you uncertain, find someone whose report of the past you do trust.  Or, barring that, write it down somewhere you can keep safe and look at it if you feel like you’re being lied to.

Hope this was helpful, sweetheart!

There’s a certain amusingly meta aspect to the fact that I am writing a paper on the developmental differences that make it common for girls with ADHD to go undiagnosed, while struggling to override the fact that I’m a girl with ADHD and executive dysfunction that really don’t want to do a research paper today.