outed by your own dad lmao
I'd post the korsakoff syndrome clip from house but yours is literally just an attention thing and literally writing walls of bullshit about your fictional abuse and neglect goddamn skinwalking other people's stories
You need actual psychological help.
omg i literally just posted this, i love you so much
outed by your own dad lmao
I'd post the korsakoff syndrome clip from house but yours is literally just an attention thing and literally writing walls of bullshit about your fictional abuse and neglect goddamn skinwalking other people's stories
You need actual psychological help.
omg i literally just posted this, i love you so much
Must be nice having someone completely model themselves after you. Ultimate narc supply, I am envious.
The abuse was real, me needing psychological help is real, struggling with identity, heart break, addiction, post traumatic stress, panic attacks, dissociation, and depression is real.
I’m not saying I’m a victim of these things, this is simply my life and I have had to find my own way of dealing with it and it’s circumstances, and I take emotional responsibility for my life, my mental health, and my circumstances- and have made a concerted effort to improve these issues, and my life in general- and continue to still today.
But the rest of blanc is, a persona where I modeled where I could pour my otherwise buried self expression into.
Like I said, I don’t expect people to understand me necessarily, but I have tried to iterate this multiple times. I know it’s probably weird to some people, but it’s just how I managed the stress of my situation I guess. Very much a coping mechanism.
It sort of allowed me to feel like, the things that were happening weren’t my reality, and they were happening to blanc. It allowed me to feel like it wasn’t real. So I could sort of dislocate like, the negative- from myself and like distance myself from it, in order to function.
It was a way of compartmentalization, and separating myself mentally and emotionally from things that were too difficult for me to recover from.
I don’t expect people to empathize, but I did deal with some pretty serious abuse. It really broke me, the person I really am- not blanc. Trauma is some really really gnarly stuff, and it’s insanely difficult to deal with when you’re going through it. I would of done anything that worked, so, the fact this worked for me in a lot of ways (writing in general helps) I just continued to do it because I noticed a marked and noticable impact- and improvement in some areas because of it.
It was therapeutic, for me.
The abuse was real, me needing psychological help is real, struggling with identity, heart break, addiction, post traumatic stress, panic attacks, dissociation, and depression is real.
I’m not saying I’m a victim of these things, this is simply my life and I have had to find my own way of dealing with it and it’s circumstances, and I take emotional responsibility for my life, my mental health, and my circumstances- and have made a concerted effort to improve these issues, and my life in general- and continue to still today.
But the rest of blanc is, a persona where I modeled where I could pour my otherwise buried self expression into.
Like I said, I don’t expect people to understand me necessarily, but I have tried to iterate this multiple times. I know it’s probably weird to some people, but it’s just how I managed the stress of my situation I guess. Very much a coping mechanism.
It sort of allowed me to feel like, the things that were happening weren’t my reality, and they were happening to blanc. It allowed me to feel like it wasn’t real. So I could sort of dislocate like, the negative- from myself and like distance myself from it, in order to function.
It was a way of compartmentalization, and separating myself mentally and emotionally from things that were too difficult for me to recover from.
I don’t expect people to empathize, but I did deal with some pretty serious abuse. It really broke me, the person I really am- not blanc. Trauma is some really really gnarly stuff, and it’s insanely difficult to deal with when you’re going through it. I would of done anything that worked, so, the fact this worked for me in a lot of ways (writing in general helps) I just continued to do it because I noticed a marked and noticable impact- and improvement in some areas because of it.
It was therapeutic, for me.
I advise you stop digging yourself into a hole.
I understand you guys enjoy hatred, and that’s okay, that’s your thing. You want to pick me apart anyway you can, you can do that. I can’t stop you from doing that. I can’t, make people be understanding of me and I’m not entitled to that. Everyone can have their own opinion of me, doesn’t mean it’s necessarily right.
I just, I do feel sort of misunderstood a lot in my regular life, and I have a hard time communicating or expressing, who I really am on the inside- on the outside, for some reason. I just appear kind of “blank” and that’s, where the username derived from mainly-
It also derived from a total sense of like, complete dislocation from ones identity. At one time I genuinely felt like I had forgotten who I was. Not in the sense where, you remember backwards- oh yeah, I was that person but now I’m not- but more like, whatever I was, was comp[letely blacked out. And I couldn’t like, access that or remember it. I couldn’t remember like, the meaning of my own name, and I know that sounds crazy but, it’s just, that’s just complex ptsd. I couldn’t even recognize myself in the mirror.
Like when you think of yourself, your identity, you know things abotu yourself, you have a concrete sense of who you are, you know your dispositions, you know what you enjoy, you hear your own thoughts and they are *yours*. For me, everything felt, empty. In that area. And there was no association, of my name with- an identity. It was just, a name. And, everything I operated by and thought by, felt like, just a script I was following, mandated by, some objective view of what I was *supposed* to be doing. In life.
I came to an age though where it was no longer important or necessary for survival for me to “follow orders” and to “turn off my sense of identity” (from a traumatic childhood) and I was young, more independent, and in a place where I was truly safe and, free- for the first time in my life. I had wanted this emancipation since as early as I can remember. I tried to run away when I was only four years old, when I was ten I asked for anything with wheels so I could get away as far as I could, and I dreamt of starting a new life for myself- away from here.
I’m not saying my parents were evil, they just didn’t understand that what they were doing wasn’t right. They even admit now that they feel like, they fucked up in a lot of ways, and made mistakes. I don’t think they grasp the depth of the damage they caused and all the ways it affected me psychologically and emotionally, but they can see the plain result of what happened to me (mental hopsitalization, mental breakdowns) and they started to put it together that they may of made some mistakes a long the way. They’ve just never admitted, specifics.
But I remember the specifics now, and with time, in my time of freedom, the memory of who I was and memory of trauma started coming back and being less completely dislocated from me (I had forgotten all of it) and, it was also a time where it was important, to understand who I was.
I remember like, feeling like I needed to figure that out- but, I couldn’t. So I took to paper to, sort of find my way with it and do some introspection and, let myself talk, and be opinionated, and not think about, what other people think and, how I *should* be, or how I would be judged but instead- just, let myself, be myself. SC was my place to do that where I felt safe and comfortable doing that- but, not alone as well.
I needed to figure out who I was because I was in a career path choosing time, and I had goals and things but I didn’t know what was really right for me, fit wise. And I didn’t really love myself, because, how can you when you don’t even know who you are. I had no sense of self worth, no sense of innate value, no will to live. These were things I had to build from the ground up. But, in understanding myself, in letting myself talk and be heard, and in a lot of, introspection through writing I was able to sort of, carve out of the darkness inside me, something that made sense and, shed light on like, who I innately once and, came to value that, and know that. And love that.
I knew like, no one could love me and I could not be happy, if I did not know who I was first. I couldn’t, really go forward with life and, make decisions- because I didn’t even know, what side of the fence I really stood on- on anything. Because growing up, my opinions weren’t important- so I just never formed any of my own. I just did what I was told and followed the motions of life like a robot- without questioning it.
Though, I was frustrated, naturally with feeling like I was forced to fit a mold I didn’t fit, and feeling, sort of trapped. I just kind of, needed to be set free and I knew that, I just didnt know why.
So eventually when I did find that freedom I did begin, giving myself the room to breath and opening up more, (I used to be extremely quiet and never, spoke, in public or, anywhere.) And I needed to get better at, being confident, and- talking, out loud. In order to be happy, and care free going about life- instead of too anxious to even speak.
So it did help me find my confidence as well. And a lot of these issues being corrected did help improve my own quality of life and my own personal internal happiness and, daily disposition- which contributed to my ultimate wellness, and the health of my life, my relationships, my habits, my health, my longevity even.
Mental health is important so, I was kind of doing what I had to do in a way, to get through the hard times and, grow, and... you know. Find my way about things. I was very lost in all of it before. It’s very, confusing and disorienting, when you’re, in all of it. But now in retrospect, it makes sense the intuitions I had, and why I had them and, I’m glad I followed them. Including my intuition to get help, and to help myself anyway I felt like- sort of allowing myself, to do that for myself.
There were a lot of things I did, not just writing. But writing was one of the more cathartic things. It was just a healing process or, course correction. And then slowly with time I’ve been able to work with a therapist to integrate, these dislocated parts and, deal with trauma etc. So that I could feel more whole.
The reason I had to dislocate is just because it was simply too much for me to psychologically handle, what I had been through and, the effects it caused. Panic, anxiety, depression, etc. So my brain just kind of like YEETed that away and was like, “hey, that didn’t happen.” “And neither did any of that!” And I was like :) an empty human being with no sense of self or identity and no opinions, just sitting there feeling completely blank. And I was like why the fuck do I feel like this? Lol
and then I remembered all my shit and I was like oh... no. *mental breakdown*
*gets help*
ok cool, that makes sense now.
Ptsd is real folks, and the ways in which people deal with their shit, is all different. And this is just how I dealt with mine ya know? I had to keep it compartmentalized here for a lot of reasons as well- which is why it was here. It was here because it worked. It made sense, trust me. Lol
Anyway yeah, sorry for all the confusion and, I’m glad to be on the other side of it now and I don’t think I would change a thing. SC probably saved my life in a way, because if I hadn’t done all of this I definitely would of killed myself. Like, I genuinely couldn’t handle what I was going through at certain times so. And I was once really suicidal. I had to do a lot of work on that.
But yeah.... to say I needed psychological help is, an understatement. I tried to kill myself three times. Obviously something was wrong and, I’m glad that I could even, understand- what was going on. Because at the time, I couldn’t. But with writing it helped me come to realizations about what was going on and assess things comprehensively, monitoring my thoughts and, trying to make sense of it all- and what I needed to do to get better.
A large part of that was just needing to validate myself and I felt like, very invalidated. In all the stuff I went through. It’s like, oh if it happened to you, that’s not real trauma- and I couldn’t process it because, “that’s no big deal, you don’t deserve to feel pain about this. You don’t deserve to complain, etc.” But, if it happened to blanc, I could empathize with them. And in a way, heal emotional wounds there by doing that and, having compassion for myself- in a lot of ways, not just about trauma. And i learned to, validate myself and get stronger and more confident about that.
I used to be quite a door matt, and it didn’t even occur to me, that I was doing that you know. I just genuinely thought I deserved what happened, so it took a long time to even, realize that I didn’t and that it was wrong and bad. And then coping with the long term harm and deep seated issues it caused was a whole other, gamble. Where I was sort of, walking the line for a while and, on the edge of suicide basically.
I’m glad I brought myself back from the edge and, I honestly can say I don’t think I would of been able to do it
Without, “blanc” and, without SC. So I’m grateful for the path of self discovery it’s led me down and, allowing me the space to do that.
I’m glad I can confidently be myself now, and blanc allowed me that healing in order to be able to recover and to be this way. So yeah, I’m grateful for that.
And I’m kind of in a place mentally where it’s like, I feel foundationally centered in myself, and I’m confident enough now to be able to talk about this and, like, it’s okay if people, know. Ya know like, I can own that now. And it’s okay if they don’t understand, or if they judge me, for that.
Because I’m okay like, regardless of what people say or think and, I’m okay with myself, and I know who *I am*, and I like who I am, so, I don’t need like, approval of others here or anywhere, ya know. I’m happy, is what I’m trying to say.
And that’s not something I could say for myself three-five years ago... I’m sure you can remember, it was quite obnoxious. I’m still growing now and like, working on issues I have still,
like socially I’m terrible about thinking about how things are going to be perceived. I used to not care- but now I sort of do more so like, I’m trying to get better at communicating and expressing myself in a way that doesn’t come across the wrong way or, misrepresent me on accident?
Which I wasn’t always good abotu doing because, like I said, I didn’t care. Hard to explain but like, I didn’t think anyone would ever like or care about me- I thought everyone hated me, and I hated everyone too, I was angry at the world and I thought everything sucked ass and there was no meaning in anything (lmao depression vibes) and, with treatment obviously that got better and then I realized how to think about life in a healthier mind set, it just sort of clicked and I “got it” like, how, life is for other people- it started being that way for me too.
I understood like, normalcy. Which, I didn’t, always understand so. I judged it and prided myself on being a misfit almost, like many hipster youth did in my generation :P but, then I realized, oh- I was just stupid and didn’t get it. Because I was kind of mentally fucked up a little bit. And then when it all came together with the healing etc, I came to realize like, oh well, since my mind set about the world and life, is more normal, I desired to be myself and have people know who that was, and to be, more considerate of how I communicated in order to avoid misperceptions and skewing that image of myself.
So I’ve slowly been able to like, be more, of myself. And it’s been good. Basically is what I’m trying to say. And I’m glad to do that like, it just took me a while to be able to. Cuz I had to do some shit first to get to that place. I’m glad I did though : )
I’m not afraid of talking about anything with my parents, so they already know about SC and how I have “people online that I talk to.” Like, they met Tryp obviously like, they know where he came from and how we met and everything, we didn’t try to hide anything from them.
And they understand that I am a very creative person, and that this was just an outlet for me. They understand that my trauma is because of abused I’ve faced at their hands, and they’ve admitted it was a mistake how they parented me. They know I have trauma with my ex boyfriend. They know I’ve struggled with addiction.
Blanc’s life may of not been totally real but, it was very rooted in a lot of things that happened to me. I just got sort of lost in that character at one point, it’s hard to explain but like. I dunno it’s such a part of me, it feels like me. But it’s also, not. At the same time.
But yeah, Um. My parents aren’t like, worried about anything. They understand I’m in a good place now. And it was a thing of the past. Like I’m past it. Basically is what I’m trying to make clear here but.
My dad didn’t “expose” me lol, I’ve told you countless times blanc isn’t real but you don’t believe it. Even though it sort of is real, it’s obviously sort of not at the same time. It’s part of me but it’s not all of me, basically.
And that’s why I kept insisting when people would come at me I was like, “you don’t really know me.” LOL that’s what I was trying to say but, I just, didn’t even really understand it myself well enough to explain it like this, like I have just now. I hadn’t wrapped my head around it.
I didn’t know why I was doing all of this, I just did like, almost sort of autonomously. And it didn’t make sense why i was doing any of it until afterward.
