crooked deep down.

Apr 22

[video]

[video]

vivianvivisection:

straight boys think girls can’t take compliments, and that’s ridiculous cause i’ve seen so many girls compliment each other, i’ve seen conversations & friendships blossom from girls complimenting each other in line, on the street, at school waiting for the bus, pretty much anywhere.

the problem is straight boys think sexual harassment & assault are compliments.

(via ourladyofconcealedweaponry)

[video]

rhrealitycheck:

LOVE THIS.

rhrealitycheck:

LOVE THIS.

(Source: ethiopienne)

kiriamaya:

ineedtothinkofatitle:

dear caretakers of children: stop telling kids “I don’t care who started it!”. you’re teaching children to ignore unequal power balances. that leads to legitimate belief in things like reverse racism, misandry, heterophobia, etc. you’re teaching children that it’s wrong to retaliate when they are wronged. “who started it” is very, very relevant.

THANK YOU

(via amaditalks)

[video]

[video]

scienceshenanigans:

oceanicsteam:

But…but…~chemicals!~


I cannot stress this enough.

scienceshenanigans:

oceanicsteam:

But…but…~chemicals!~

image

I cannot stress this enough.

(via justamerplwithabox)

[video]

chaoticgoodwitch replied to your post: “Have you ever considered medication? At least something that will alleviate the depression/anxiety?”

I have…but that would require going to a doctor, which would also require insurance (or more money than I have) and/or the emotional/mental ability to work myself up to being able to go in the first place. :\ There’ve been at least 2 times in the past three years I’ve sincerely believed I was going to make myself go, but I just…can’t.

princeowl:

the worst thing you can say to someone is ‘you’re too sensitive’ because that’s basically saying ‘you feel things more deeply and fully than i do and this inconveniences me because now i have to be more mindful of my own actions’ 

you’re not too sensitive, the world is just callous and stubborn. sensitivity doesn’t make you weak and callousness doesn’t make you strong. 

(via ourladyofconcealedweaponry)

[video]

Apr 21

I should add

the obligatory “really I’ll be okay” postscript to that last post of mine. Not sure if Jerkbrain is the one telling me I’m fine and nothing’s wrong or if it’s actually true, but…yeah.

Also: happy early birthday to meee. Fuck trauma. Fuck ptsd. Fuck everything.

Also also: THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I WAS LITERALLY SURROUNDED BY FRIENDS WHO LOVE ME WHO GATHERED FOR THE EXPLICIT EXPRESS PURPOSE OF LOVING AND CELEBRATING ME JUST A COUPLE OF NIGHTS AGO. I HAVE NO RIGHT WHATSOEVER TO BE FEELING THIS WAY LET ALONE TALKING ABOUT IT.

I’ll be okay. Really really really. Harry Potter and my new Tardis blanket and bed and my partner and water will make me better somehow some way.

In which I find words but my fish are still dead.

Trigger warnings for talk of childhood sexual abuse, suicidal ideations, and verbal and emotional abuse.

Today, it occurred to me (probably not for the first time, but as I tend to block random things out of my memory I’m not really sure) that Jerkbrain is, well, a jerk.

Hear me out.

I tweeted earlier today in a moment of clarity.

Jerkbrain is in THE HOUSE. Body: “man, am I thirsty & anxious & I kinda have a migraine.” Jerkbrain: “YOU’RE A STUPID LAZY ATTENTION WHORE.”

— Dani Kelley (@danileekelley) April 21, 2014

Jerkbrain: “DON’T YOU DRINK THAT WATER. YOU DON’T NEED IT. PAINKILLERS? ESSENTIAL OILS FOR YOUR HEAD? AHAHAHAA YOU STUPID BITCH.”

— Dani Kelley (@danileekelley) April 21, 2014

For the record, Jerkbrain calls me things I would never ever ever call anyone else. I typically keep those things to myself. :\

— Dani Kelley (@danileekelley) April 21, 2014

I don’t know if it’s voices of people from my past, or things I’ve just internalized as part of growing up as a sexually abused child in a fundamentalist Christian culture in the US, or what. But…this seriously happens.

Generally when this happens, I feel like a small child. I text my partner and say, “I have a migraine.” He responds, “Take pills.” Jerkbrain laughs cruelly and says, “You bitch, pills are for wimps, there’s nothing wrong with you. Suck it up and deal with it.” It’s easier to tell people that I took the pills but they’re not helping than it is to tell them what my brain is telling me. It usually takes someone telling me very sternly to do something for me to do it, because suddenly I’m more afraid of them and their opinion of me than I’m afraid of disobeying Jerkbrain.

Or something will happen in which I am triggered, possibly triggered and disassociating. “Oh. There I am, sitting at my desk, working. I recognize that my breathing is shallow and fast and that panic is welling up inside me, but this is odd. Maybe I’m triggered or disassociating.” Then Jerkbrain pipes up with, “You are SUCH a drama queen. You’re not triggered. Nothing’s happened to you that hasn’t happened to a thousand people who cope 100x better than you do. Deal with it & stop talking about it. You’re the girl who cried wolf anyway.”

Or I’ll have an intense very vivid flashback, and out loud the only thing I can say (if I can talk at all) is “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” because Jerkbrain is screaming different conflicting things at me to JUST HOLD STILL AND IT’LL BE OVER SOON YOU DESERVED THIS ANYWAY AND LOOK YOU EVEN LIKED IT then suddenly YOU FUCKING CUNT YOU’RE MAKING THIS UP THIS NEVER HAPPENED YOU’RE LYING YOU’RE CRAZY YOU’RE GOING TO BE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE AND YOU WILL LOSE EVERYTHING. Then when it’s over Jerkbrain is much quieter but even more convincing with, “Just do it, end the pain. You have knives, you have pills, you have a car and know of nearby bridges, you can make it look like an accident and you’ll never ever ever feel any of this ever again.” And thankfully the faces of my partner and parents and friends are enough of a deterrent, but I don’t know how long that will last.

It’s not rational. At all. It’s really not. I know, intellectually, that Jerkbrain is my PTSD, depression, and anxiety talking. I know it’s a troll. I know I shouldn’t listen to it. I can’t explain why some days I can fight it and win, or the days I can fight it and lose, or the days where I don’t even put up a fight because of course it’s right. Of course I’m selfish and dramatic and deserving of all abuse because my existence is specifically to serve people one way or another without causing any wrinkles at all or else punishment or displeasure is swift.

So…I don’t know. I have words for it, a little bit better than before when I couldn’t even explain what was going on in my head during extreme anxious or depressed or post-traumatic episodes. But my fish are still dead, and I’m not sure they’re ever coming back.