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Healing - Blog Posts
*probable sappiness warning*
It’s okay cuz im self aware heh. Anyways-
-
i am
for the first time
truly truly happy.
Like finally breathing
or touching the sky.
I looked for it for so long.
And now he it is on my doorstep.
Sunshine
My Beautiful sky.
This is thanks to you,
and so this is for you,
I feel happy. I love you.
AAAA IM ALIVE
So, to begin I want to say I’m sorry for not posting about my DR in a lil bit, the past two weeks I’ve been really struggling with my chronic anxiety and illness, so I have been in a lot of pain and haven’t been motivated to write much :[ but!
I’m doing much much better now and I’ll probably post tomorrow for the poll that we did!! thank you guys for your patience, I love this community and fandoms so much and I wanna be involved but sometimes media gets a bit too much for me
have a great day/evening to everyone and see you tomorrow!!
What I find isn’t appreciated enough when it comes to shifting
TW: chronic illness and chronic mental health
So I have chronic anxiety and clinical depression, along with other various physical health difficulties including intestinal issues and extreme periods (most of which almost lead to going to the hospital, it takes two weeks out of every month of my life) I’ve been examined by countless doctors, therapists, psychologists, and no one knew how to fix me, all they said was I would have to live with it and find coping skills to function “normally” in society
so with that in mind, life sometimes gets ridiculously complicated and difficult, and I hate the fact that I have to live with it, but that’s when I realized *I don’t*
I am a manifestor and shifter, how the hell could I forget that? I honestly am so thankful for scripting and for shifting because in so many realities I don’t have to deal with this burden, I can live freely and enjoy life and not have to worry if a meal will send me to the ER
I really feel like people glaze over the fact that we have SO MUCH POWER and so much potential, I think it’s important to show our appreciation to that, I appreciate it so dearly
Whenever I have a pain spike or an anxiety attack, I just repeat I am in control over my reality, I am the master of the 4d, I am safe, over and over and then it goes away. As of recently, it’s been getting better using these robotic affirmations, and I’m so happy I cry thinking about it
4 years worth of constant pain, no matter what I could do, thinking I would live like this forever, and here I am a few weeks/months and I found what works to save myself
I hope whoever reads this finds hope in my experience, especially to those who share my burdens
good night and happy shifting to all 🩷✨🫶
This. If I can get this into my head, that would be great
self-improvement should be because you want to improve your quality of life, not because you feel or think you *need* to be better in order to be loved or allowed to live. there's no end goal with self-improvement, it's easy to dig yourself a grave when you don't realize that you're not on a ticking clock to be the 'best version of yourself'. all you need to strive to do is be the version of yourself you are the most happy with. find out what values you find important, what kind of friend do you want to be, how do you want to react to things. what are things that would improve the way you go about life? what would make life easier, better and more enjoyable for you?
A constellation of scars (with a soldiers story to tell)
A constellation of scars, they tell the story Of a young soldier, beaten and battle weary The taunts, the jeers of those who seek validation The whispers, the rumours of those who see a threat
A collection of memories, they tell the story Of a bright young child, ready to find glory Studying hard for years to come To see their families proud faces When they hit number one
A tale of joy, fleeting yet forever Their mother, their sister, their brother, their father The times spent together with friends Now only a fantasy
The reality of life, an empty black hole The void in their chest where a heart once called home That absence of feeling that clings to their skin The guilt running through their veins that they cloak themselves in
The temptation of pain, just an itch at first Grows to be unbearable in the times it is worst The scabs on their skin that refuse to heal As they are peeled back again and again For that brief chance to feel
The tunnel of darkness continued to grow Would it ever end? They really didn’t know A call from the shadows in the form of a blade Said it brought peace and a moment of escape
The darkness swarmed in on them, promised to keep them safe In the midst of their pain, they didn’t realise it was a cage As the cuts grew in number on their arms, legs, chest and heart They still felt nothing when skin and blade were apart
As the darkness continued to swallow them whole Their loved ones were worried “Where did they go?” And so the acting began, strings of denies “I’m just tired.” They would say, weaving a web full of lies
The fragile strands tightened and coiled Constricting even them into being embroiled. “Maybe I really am just tired, or overreacting,” “Maybe it’s just for attention, to try and feel what I’m lacking.”
The coils wound tight, choking them slowly And though they didn’t realise it, they were succumbing And so the thoughts of death started creeping onto their head “I feel nothing even when cutting, I’m better off dead.”
An attempt was carried out, though they can barely remember a thing Except waking up in hospital, alive and breathing Their mother had found them, draped over the bathroom sink Wrists slit, bleeding out An ambulance was called There was still no feeling
A year had passed and there was still no sign of the end The web of lies had been broken, but the void in their chest remained Even while being smothered with affection There was still no feeling
The world kept rushing past, they stopped trying to keep up months ago But one day it seemed to halt For just a second There was feeling once more
They had been out with their friends Who hadn’t given up just yet On making them feel again Yet another attempt that was set to fail But it didn’t
It was a simple thing really A joke, a smile and then a tidal wave of laughter Seeing the joy that they thought was lost It caused something to stir
An echo of happiness, plucked from a heartstring It resonated through their body And the void seemed to shrink ever so slightly There was life in them yet
Five years passed and they were still no better That echo being the only thing keeping them tethered to this life Why am I not better yet? I should be happy, I should be healed
They began to notice the world The whispers, the rumours Began to notice How the scars littered their skin
Their body, an art piece For those who merely skimmed the surface, it was dangerous and all consuming So they avoided it Criticising the artist to deny their looming feelings of dread To ignore how deep the scars ran
But to those who saw through the critics’ remarks Those who looked deeper Who broke down the walls Who braved the aggression, the masks and the cruelty And saw what lay behind it all A damaged soul, trying to fix themselves with cut hands
The soul of a broken child who grew up too fast A child with a fragile glass heart Shattered to pieces by the harshness of life The expectations, the judgement, the reality It was shattered to protect the holder from the worst But they were still left with their constellation of scars
Those who saw the true meanings were sometimes driven to madness The weight of it too much for their aching shoulders Too weak to carry yet another burden But there were those who could. Those who saw and still stayed Those who showed them, the echo of a life Pulsing through them still
That constellation of scars, that collection of memories, they tell the story Of a brave young warrior, battling enemies even some of the most experienced had never encountered. How exhausted they were, how sick of fighting Who gave up trying to fight back those monsters Who had lost all faith
But who had life in them A pulse that refused to let go Clinging to them even as the darkness led them, Deeper and deeper into despair Echoing constantly, begging for them to hear A pulse that people helped them find
That brought them from their knees That told the young soldier, “Don’t loose hope yet, I’m still beating.” The young soldier hadn’t given up yet They would be victorious
Their constellation of scars, told of memories Good and bad, joyous and despairing The memories of their life past And would tell of the life to come
As the new scars were added, the jeers stayed the same, Unwavering in their goal to hurt
But still, they lived Though their scars never fully healed, their pain never fully erased The void never fully gone
There were good days Where their scars seemed non existent And there were bad days Which broke them all over again
But what was important Was that even if the light disappeared from the tunnel, Even if the dark seemed inescapable, They would always have the pulse in their chest Cheering them on, keeping them going Awaiting the victory only they can achieve. Steadily beating.
On healing:
I'm trying to be beautiful and to heal
but im dying and it's hard
to heal beautifully...
I want to get through this and be suprised there's still good left in this world
but I wonder if I'm living the life of a girl who dies young, chaotic and brief, mostly unknown, morning news
To the folks who is responding to my silly little poll about how y'all are progressing on projects during this holiday crunch with "I don't make gifts anymore because they are not appreciated", I am so very sorry y'all have had that experience.
I sometimes think we all have.
I no longer paint, because as a teen I spent months on a painting for my sperm donor in yet another attempt to bring out of him the father I always wanted. He promptly began criticizing everything that was wrong. Heartbroken, I took it back on the pretense I was going to "fix" it. Years later, after I finally ended my relationship with him; I burned it in a ritual as a final break from him.
I never painted a picture again. Rarely drew.
Having someone not appreciate your gift or are pointedly indifferent to it will shatter your soul.
To all y'all who have experienced this, I am so very sorry. I give to you my sincerest love and deepest hope that none of us experience that ever again.
Also, I am so proud of y'all for protecting yourselves! It is not worth the pain and anger to go through that shit again. I know some of y'all have that deep-rooted guilt because you have heard "but <insert excuse>" your whole fucking life until it just sits inside you giving your internal bully ammo to hit you with. (Especially true when it comes to family.) Let me assure y'all, it's bullshit and it eventually goes away.
To those who are planning to give handmade gifts, may each and every onr bring the kind of joy that sets your soul alight.
An Easy Spell for Healing and Moving Forward
Disclaimer: If you are healing from serious trauma, please use this spell only as a supplemental tool for professional treatment. If you are on any sort of medication, do not use this spell as a replacement.
What You Will Need:
An Apple (for cleansing away negativity)
A Knife
A Sigil in Mind for Healing
Directions:
Use your knife to carve your sigil into the surface of the apple. I used one of my own: x
Once you have carved your sigil into the apple, begin to eat the apple. As you eat, think of the thing that has hurt you that you want to move past. Focus on how moving forward will improve your life.
As you chew the apple, imagine you are crushing that thing that is bothering you. When you swallow, know that you are taking in the healing properties of both the apple and the sigil.
Don't rush it! Take your time and try to eat as close to the core as possible before throwing the apple (and that thing holding you back from healing) away.
When you struggle with identity loss so you just adopt that as your identity.
I want to love and be loved. I want to find a way where I don’t hurt myself. I want to live a life where I say things are good more than things are bad. I want to keep failing and discovering new and better directions. I want to enjoy the tides of feeling in me as the rhythms of life. I want to be the kind of person who can walk inside the vast darkness and find the one fragment of sunlight I can linger in for a long time. Some day, I will.
Baek Sehee, tr. by Anton Hur, from I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki
Okay so I've seen multiple posts about how Logan wanted to save Wade bc of Love and I really appreciate it but I have to be the bad guy and at least bring another option in the ring:
Logan is completely depressed for ages, haunted by voices of his family and closest friends he "let die". He hasn't slept well in ages and is an absolute alcoholic to be able to just get through the day. He has no friends or even a single soul who is simply friendly to him.
Logan wants to die.
But Logan can't die.
So of course Wade is the person to change all that and bring light and hope into his life and he definitely did want to save him for Wades family - bc he still believes he has nothing to go back for and if Wade dies he is back where he started and he just doesn't want that. Nobody wants that.
So he has two options, since both of them believe this is the end either way:
Let Wade die alone (with the risk he may not be able to stop it, despite the fact he didn't even reach it alone but let's be honest he hammered against the door before he could even see that)
OR
Die with him - bc he wants to swap places with him / he has to be the one who dies / he'd rather tried than do nothing or run away like always /
This is his only chance.
Seriously. He's been alive for so so long. He's through so much and he knows if it goes bad he HAS to live forever and most people know that's more like a curse than a blessing. He has the chance to end all that. To choose right then and there. And he made that decision.
Here is one for Akatani Shinamoru! Also I now have two new oc’s I will post about them soon!
*Trigger Warnings: Details and Descriptions of su*c*d* attempt, su*c*d*l ideations, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, drug use, guilt, anxiety, bipolar depression, PTSD symptoms, eating disorder, passive aggressive humor.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 7
12:06pm
So yeah, I tried to kill myself. Emphasis on “tried”. I packed up all my shit, so that you and Gem wouldn’t have to touch it or look at it. I took those pills, all of those pills, because I couldn’t and still can’t cut myself. And, I waited in an alley 2 blocks from your apartment in the biting cold for 3 hours, so I wouldn’t die in the apartment, your home.
That slap must hurt, doesn’t it?
Then… nothing.
Nothing happened happened that is. I waited 3 hours, watching Steven Universe to leave with my last chance at happiness and nothing fucking happened. “Oh well”, I thought.
So, I got up, walked back to the apartment, called an ambulance because I took a shit ton of medication that was going to do something other than k*ll me. Went to the hospital, told them not to call you for a few hours because I didn’t care to. The drugs kicked in and I was high out of my mind, couldn’t even walk by myself (HA! LOL), and then… there you were.
I only remember two bits from that conversation. 1.) That you got me food because I realized I hadn’t eaten in however long I was there. And 2.), That you were kicking me out, said I couldn’t come back, that first you felt guilt that switched to anger, that you're "shipping me back to my mom", that what would I think if Gem found me dead in my room, and what would it be like for you both to have to find a new place. And I said, “I’m sorry”.
And I still have more sorry's to give. I know that what I just said was hurtful and unfair and completely victimizing myself, even if it is my side of the story. I’m so sorry for that. Genuinely, I’m so sorry.
I’m sorry that me arriving came at a time, where you and Gem were struggling with new jobs and the eventual lawsuit possibility. I’m sorry that I was another person with damaged mental health added to your household, when you felt like you were the only one keeping everyone afloat. I’m sorry that I never just told you the truth, my truth. Of how I was feeling and how much I was struggling.
I’m sorry that things never went the way we expected. I’m sorry for not being there for you and Gem, the way you both were for me. I’m sorry that I “fed off the energy in the space” and “exacerbated what was already in the space”. I’m sorry for not seeing the obvious signs that you both needed space.
I’m so sorry for not being able to leave the house or eat without being told. I’m so sorry for not being able to find an out-patient program or a job fast enough. I’m so sorry for making you be my one and only protector and supporter.
I’m so sorry for becoming your and Gem’s suffering, instead of just my own.
I’m so sorry for putting myself in your hands when you weren’t prepared.
I’m so sorry for making you take responsibility for me.
I’m so sorry for sharing more with Gem than with you.
I’m so sorry for not making my choice to say, “Yes, I’ll come stay with you”, shown and worth it.
I’m… so sorry… for putting you and Gem through the trauma of me attempting su*c*d*, and the strain that must have caused.
I’m.
So.
Sorry…
For Everything.
Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 6
*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of harassment, panic attacks, PTSD symptoms, anxiety, threats of physical violence. Mentions of trauma, abuse, bipolar depression, PTSD, anxiety, coping, self deprecating thoughts, dark humor.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023
12:06pm
This is the letter that I wrote to my older (half) sister, before the texts in Part 1 the next day.
Here’s what I said to her:
“Hey Angel… I think it’s time we talk about the distance that we both have experiencing. Honestly, I don’t even know how the distance started, but it’s something that I fell into and followed. I would like to talk when you’re ready because it’s necessary that we do. That we talk about everything for as long as we both need, and that we come into this conversation ready and willing to hear each other out. Just let me know.”
“I was in such a dark place when this all started. I think after looking back on it, that I never took the time to properly explain what happened, what’s been happening…
As you know, I’ve had such an extensive amount of trauma, especially from my supposed father-figures. It was September… I was on a shuttle, trying to get to my rehearsal for dance on a Sunday afternoon. I stepped onto the shuttle, wearing my headphones, listening to the same playlist that I do before I dance. It’s my… ritual, the thing that grounds me, calms me, but also, psyches me up to go. And, that’s the paradoxical thing about having anxiety as well as bipolar depression; you have to calm yourself down in order to build yourself up to feel excited.
In that process, I missed the driver telling everyone to not get on if they were not going to the next stop, which would unfold in our confrontation.
I got on the bus, and when we arrived at the next stop, I didn’t get off the bus, which was odd, but not too unusual… until I noticed the yelling. I took out my earbuds to hear the driver yelling, and it took me a second to realize that he was yelling at me. He was trying to force me off the bus because I apparently wasn’t supposed to be on otherwise.
I was confused, and shocked, and frightened, but I found the courage to ask why. I didn’t know at the time that he had said that he would swing back around to get the people going to main campus. I got frustrated with how he was acting, because we would get there eventually ‘cause the route is continuous, as all bus routes are, but he kept getting more aggressive as he was trying to force me off. His reasoning was, “because he said so”, instead of any semblance of reason. It reached the point where other students were getting on to return home, and that spurred him to park the bus, say that he wasn’t moving until I got off, and threatened to call the police or physically removing me himself. I was panicked, so I did what my mind told me to do in the moment. I made my way off, asked for his name, which was like pulling teeth, and tried to call the office to make a complaint. He drove away, I was officially late to rehearsal, and then, I realized that I had no idea where I was.
My anxiety was building exponentially as I called the transportation office 3 times with no response before I realized there wasn’t going to be, because they are closed on the weekends. I then tried calling all my friends, with cars, to see if they could pick me up to no avail. Then, I had my first panic attack on the curb of a parking lot in an unfamiliar place, while people walked by with odd stares and no concern for me. Then, I tried calling all and any family I could, my mom, you, Camille, and Auntie Roz and Auntie Julie, but no one answered.
Cue my second panic attack.
A friend called me back, I explained the situation, but they couldn’t come get me. So, I made the decision to call an Uber with the last $11 I had. On the drive, my mom called to see what was going on. She responded to the story by saying “Get over it”. Not understanding how triggering it was for me, or caring for how upset or shaken I was. I got out of the Uber, had my third panic attack in 40 minutes, and after, I noticed the time.
Rehearsal was over, and I cried.
I called my professor to apologize and after I explained what happened, he Venmo’d me for the Uber, but that’s where the resolution of the incident stopped. I did end up filing a complaint, and they took my side, but didn’t act on any of the solutions I asked for. After that, well, I spiraled.
Part 1 -- Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
I’ve gained some new followers lately, and over the last few days, I’ve been thinking about being more active on this page. I honestly started this page to occasionally post some of my journal writing as a way to connect with people that I will never meet. Just to have something that will mean something more than what I was feeling in the moment.
I think I’ll continue doing that more often now, but not with the idea of doing it to “connect with others”. I want to truly do it for myself and to make content that is real and if people read it, they can relate or feel inspired by it. I think this is great way for me to pour into something that brightens my life more. So engage if you like, and if you don’t, that’s fine too! Cheers to 2023! 🎉
reminder that you don't have to accept apologies from people who hurt you and that don't have to welcome anybody back into your life just because they've "changed"
erase me from your memory.
💭 GUIDELINES ‣ LIBRARY ‣ TAGLIST & ANONS ‣ IN PROGRESS ‣ REQUEST LIST ‣ PINNED
pairing: hyunjin x gender neutral reader
content warnings: post-breakup healing, sadness
rating: 13+
summary: half a year after you and hyunjin break up, you find that you’ve somehow healed.
🌱 untitled — hyunjin & i.n (2 kids’ show)
His name is one that your journal has known for a very long time – and it will be one that it will never forget. Pages upon pages you find him embedded into every word you poured out, every tear, every smile was written for him without you realizing it. Your entire world spun around him, and just as soon as he waltzed into your life, he left.
Please erase me from your memory and go find your happiness, he’d said to you then as you begged him to stay. He didn’t seem to understand that his touch would forever be tattooed onto your skin, his passing love would always be yearned by your heart, and his words would forever burn in your mind. Hwang Hyunjin would be a love that you were determined to remember for as long as humanly possible, because although his feelings for you had fizzled out over time, it was once as intense and real as the sun that rises and falls every day.
You weren’t angry at him anymore, a part of you had finally come to understand that nothing lasts forever, and that Hyunjin was your dream love and would always remain just that – a dream. All that was left of you was a shell of who you’d once been before him, though there was a certain hollowness that ate you up from within. Dying of heartbreak was something you thought was real when you watched the door close behind him for the very last time, spending weeks catching glimpses of his shadow from the corner of your eyes and deluding yourself into thinking you’d heard his voice as you waited for your shattered heart to finally give up pumping your blood through your veins. A life without Hyunjin was one you didn’t think was worth living.
However, half a year has gone by since you spoke to him last, and you were still alive, still breathing. You were currently in the same park in which you’d met him some years ago, sitting on the very same bench in which you’d sat with him for hours after first meeting as you chatted about everything and nothing and unknowingly fell headfirst into love. And although the memory sent a twinge of pain, you realized for the first time in what had felt like forever that you could breathe properly and that you were okay now. Most of all, you understand now that Hwang Hyunjin would be a memory that you would look back on with fondness when you’re older and wiser – perhaps he will be the love you would tell your children about when they inevitably get their hearts broken for the first time. You were grateful for the opportunity to know such a unique soul, and to have had him in your arms if only for a brief moment.
You saw him from afar today at the coffee shop at the end of the street, but you don’t think he noticed you. This was what compelled you to return to this park for the first time in a while, because he looked well and healthy. He had carried on with his life, and maybe you have as well. All you could really hope was that he remembered you as well, and that when he found his next lover, if he hadn’t already, he thought of you and the beautiful life you had once planned together.
Please erase me from your memory and go find your happiness, he’d said to you then as you begged him to stay. He thought forgetting would be a blessing, but you didn’t need to forget him to feel okay or to find happiness. You didn’t think he understood the impact he’d had in your life and that was okay.
You are fine. You are alive and well, but most importantly, you are healing.
word count: 644 🌱 posted: 12 • 01 • 2023
💬 a note from green;
after posting jeongin’s you can blame me if you want, i listened to the song again. somehow doing it made me think of my own journal — specifically from when i was going through my first heartbreak. it was a bittersweet experience, and i was able to see how much i’d grown since then. for the first time since i thought about my ex, i realized i was grateful for the pain. without such pain that they caused me, i wouldn’t have learned what i wanted and needed out of a relationship.
to anyone who’s going through a breakup: no one dies from a broken heart. one day you will wake up and your heart won’t ache anymore. it won’t feel empty. a day will come when you will smile again, fall in love again, and look back at this moment with pride as you take notice of your growth.
🪲 TAGLIST !
# @grandpafelixx
As someone who grew up in a southern Baptist household who has recently deconstructed, writing smut has been healing for me. I was never allowed to view these things as normal or okay. Sex was not just taboo, it was sinful, disgusting, and wrong, especially if you were a woman. I was told as a teen, in leue of a sex talk, that sex was not meant to be pleasurable for women. That sex was for procreating and for the pleasures of men. That women who enjoyed and expressed their sexualities were used up and worthless due to throwing away their virtues.
Sex is a very normal part of life because we are animals. It's okay. You aren't gross for being interested in it and there's nothing wrong with it existing in literature.
Enjoy writing smut.
Enjoy reading it.
If you've always wanted to try it but are feeling as though it's wrong or dirty somehow, go for it.
i love writing porn and i wont feel bad about it. understanding the eroticism of a character is character analysis if u are enlightened.
and yet it did, so i'll make my peace with the fact that at least i did learn something, therefore making it all not a completely useless experience.
I can't leave LFLS alone today after that last chapter. Here's a color portrait of some ninpo-unlocking Leo after a long road of healing (a long, loooooong road).
MINOR SPOILERS FOR LIKE FATHER LIKE SON BELOW PIC
It's called Karai's Last Gift. In the LFLS timeline I HC that instead of the traditional black wrappings, Karai's spirit gives Leo white ones when he unlocks ninpo. She wouldn't do anything to trigger his PTSD. It's a very fitting color as it resembles journeys, spiritual connection, and cleansing.
I cried a couple of times on this one. Once because it's emotional and once because I hate vector layers with my whole fucking heart. I'm very satisfied with how it turned out considering I doodled it so quickly. Like less than 4 hours.
“Breathe. You’re going to be okay. Breathe and remember that you’ve been in this place before. You’ve been this uncomfortable and anxious and scared, and you’ve survived. Breathe and know that you can survive this too. These feelings can’t break you. They’re painful and debilitating, but you can sit with them and eventually, they will pass. Maybe not immediately, but sometime soon, they are going to fade and when they do, you’ll look back at this moment and laugh for having doubted your resilience. I know it feels unbearable right now, but keep breathing, again and again. This will pass. I promise it will pass.”
— Daniell Koepke
