Has anyone ever been to Rodgers residential treatment in wisconsin

Things change.

4 years ago, I was sleeping about 4 hours every night. Many of my closest friends at the time had, or were in the process of, leaving me and I would cry from the loneliness. I was fighting with my parents and wanted to leave home. They thought I was exaggerating and attention-seeking. Every appointment ended with “we can’t help you” or “there’s nothing wrong with you” or medications that made me worse, to put it lightly. More than once I wanted to end it

This morning, I woke up after sleeping for 9 hours in a room built by my dad specially for me, so I would have a space for me if I stay at home longer because of my health. I texted my best friend who yesterday asked me to be her bridesmaid. Before asking me, she spent weeks making sure it would all be accessible and fun for me, not stressful. My mum brought my medication in for me, ones that actually make me feel better, and asked how I was feeling. Later I’ll text one of the members of my lovely and amazingly supportive medical team to see when we can video call. We always have tea when we call, and cookies or a cupcake- food doesn’t scare me so much anymore. Every appointment ends with “you’re doing so well”. I haven’t hurt myself in years, I actually stopped counting, and when it all gets too much I know I have people I can talk to and strategies prepared to get through it and it will pass. Life is still hard. But it keeps moving, and I’m so grateful.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but it will be ok. It might not be now, and I don’t know when it will be, but it will be. It doesn’t all happen at once. Things are still hard. But one day you’ll wake up and be so glad you didn’t leave, because you would have missed these moments of happiness and love, and some of them-probably more than you realise- wouldn’t have been possible without you.

traumalion:

((overbearing & misinformed nuerotypical voice )) “So like, multiple personalities?! What are they like?? Can you control them?? *gasp* can I meet them?!”

((smug nuerotypical voice)) “sweety,, CrA zy people don’t knoooow that they’re crazy sily goose”

((Obnoxious edgelord nuerotypical voice)) “I’M SOOOOOO PSYCHO TOO XD NORMAL PEOPLE SCARE ME”

((overbearing & condescending nuerotypical voice)) “Oh… :( you must be so troubled… poor thing… the Monsters Within. .. so haunted… you brave soul…. …”

((rude & arrogant knowitall nuerotypical voice)) “Well that explains _____”

((invasive & rude nuerotypical voice)) “Have you ever been to jail/a psych ward/etc?”

((scared & misinformed nuerotypical voice)) “Uh… are you… on medication? Are you, you know… stable?”

bpdbobbidiboo:

trippyplanetpluto:

Things have been ok for the last few months in respect to mental health. My mother had been on pretty good behavior, at least for her anyway. 

Though around the holidays she had a meltdown while driving and purposely tried to crash the car b/c we’d disagreed on something. Clearly that was terrifying but it’s not like it was the 1st time she’d done that. And thankfully she did not succeed.

 It scares me that I can write that out with a straight face. 

The last week she’s been acting like a complete gremlin. I know it’s because my birthday is coming up b/c she does this every year. She’s wicked for weeks and then enters all-out torture mode on my bday.

But I won’t give her the satisfaction. I have simply elected to no longer have a birthday. Or–at least not one I will tell anyone about.  

And i don’t mean a party. I mean the actual date. It’s become a trigger for me. I have so many trauma anniversaries on or around it, that the whole month of February is something of a psychological mine field. 

 I get stressed out by seeing the days count down on the calendar. So I have decided that it’s just any other day and I will move my birthday, a day for celebrating being alive, elsewhere.  

It’s just so strange being at a point when you realize you’re far more emotionally mature than your parents ever were & all the abusive behavior now has context.

They stopped maturing at an early age. They still solve problems by throwing tantrums and lashing out. They’re emotionally stuck as toddlers, maybe teenagers, at most. And they make no effort to improve themselves.

 It’s just sad.

Because they’re stuck like that.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s no excuse for abusive behavior. I did my years of being furious at them. I know forgiveness is useless because they’re dangerous & I’m smart enough to keep my distance. But I’m at a point where I feel bad for them. Because they’re unstable and they don’t want to get better.

One awful thing about being raised by abusive parents is that they don’t teach you basic social etiquette & they isolate you so you can’t learn.

 For years, maybe even decades you might do things that are rude, mean, or have bad connotations & you have NO clue because no one corrects you. 

Everyone raised in a good home assumes it’s your nature to be weird & rude so no one says anything out of fear of confrontation. And when someone DOES say something, it’s almost never somebody who corrects you gently. It’s almost always someone who explodes at you. 

Then you get confused as to whether you’re actually wrong or that person was just a jerk who likes to yell at people.

I wish I could feel things normally again. I be needing shows or books to feel something and it’s just sad. That shouldn’t be the case at all. Whenever I do feel something tho I can never tell if it’s genuine or if I’m faking that emotion and ultimately just end up dwelling over it with no answers whatsoever.

Can someone hurt me real badly already waiting for everything to fall apart is getting rlly annoying now.

it’s not like anxiety and I were strangers when the lockdown started,
when the world abruptly shrank to the size of my apartment.

no, we’re old friends, anxiety and I, although usually she comes and goes.
she’s like a cat, appearing and disappearing at her own leisure,
completely assured of her right to your undivided attention,
hissing and lashing out when cornered or the alarm goes off.

friends might be the wrong word. nemesi? frenemies? partners in panic?

whatever we are, we’ve been it a long, long, l o n g  time.
she is a quiet constant, invisible in her familiarity,
a startling shocking lack when absent.

she purrs, and the tremors in my hands keep time.
the rapid pulse of my heart thrums back,
and the two become one
become the hum of thwarted adrenaline,
the rising pitch barely contained within my bones.

she and I are an unplanned symphony.
this orchestra has no conductor,
no rehearsals or curtain calls.

is it stretching the metaphor to say that she gets stage fright?

because she does. the stage lights leave her light-headed,
and she curls up around me, overwhelmed and burying inward,
sulking like a child and taking all the oxygen in the room with her.
I try to comfort her but she’s also stolen all the moisture from my mouth,
the sense from my syntax, my mouth a desert,

my mouth adessert, gummy gums too sticky to speak,
my stomach a dizzying and sympathetic storm, a roiling ache
that could be hunger, nausea, cramps, the yawning void of grief, the terror of a life unlived–

something too vast and powerful to name.

Holy! Holy! Holy!

DONT REPOST / okay to rb if you are a csa victim as well

fairycosmos:

in all seriousness it’s very alienating knowing theres Something Wrong With You. like seeing your mental illness come through in your behaviour and thought processes and knowing it’s irrational and unhealthy, knowing other people are reading you as weird or stupid, and not being able to do anything about it is such a lonely experience

God, what a mood. I’ve felt this throughout my entire childhood/teenagehood, before getting diagnosed. It’s particularly distressing when you haven’t yet been diagnosed and no one seems to think there’s anything wrong with you beyond “weird”, “lazy” and “stupid”. You know there’s something wrong, but you don’t know what, so all you can do is internalize all the negative shit you hear. 

Murder is sexy!! ^^

You sick fuck. You like little girls, don’t you? I hope you die.

How could you use me?

glassdrag0n:

Dungeons and Dragons is just play therapy for grown ups pass it on

the severely mentally ill urge to date someone equally mentally ill or with the same illnesses so i get worse just from being with them

on oversharing

reading thru ur diary after a bad episode

throwing a pity party & I’m starring as the clown