you own my childhood


Little Hamsters, Big Adventures!

so anyways im rewatching the mask of zorro and vividly being reminded of how elena “while you were getting blackout drunk in some hole in the wall i was studying the blade” de la vega was truly such a formative influence growing up

When my mum moved out of home, she got herself a Rough Collie she named Jessica Mary Winch (Winch was her maiden name). Recently I have been pining for a Rough Collie, but I don’t know if I could handle a big dog or such a full-coated dog.

anonymous asked:

I call bullshit on your 'drawing from when you were 4'. Anyone who knows anything about children would do the same.

What do you mean? :/ 

I keep all my drawings from when I was a kid in a blue folder. If you want I can show you some more. (Sorry for bad quality photos, I didn’t really have time to scan them all in.)

These are from various ages from 1-5!

(Some of them are yellowed because my grandparents obviously put them on the fridge and wall for ages for me and they smoke a lot) So I don’t know what else you want out of me but what makes you think I faked my own childhood drawing??? :/

but you know what

i have dealt with so much on my own, since my childhood. I dealt with trauma at 8 by myself. I dealt with suicide attempts from ages 12-18 myself. I’ve dealt with depression for 10 years now. I’ve suffered heartbreak twice. i applied, got accepted, transferred universities all by myself. and i’m gonna graduate and move by myself, for myself. as much as my parents have tried to convince me that i’m a failure, a loser, and unworthy of anything good, i will not let their words affect me. I believed these lies for 21 years. Not anymore. I’m intelligent, and incredibly caring, and capable of anything I want to achieve. And Imma do it for my mufuckin self

Watching Liberty Kids and sortof sobbing. Henri lost his parents and grew up as a slave boy for a mean ship captain. Moses was a slave too. James lost his parents in a house fire. Sarah lost her locket, and her father has been missing for a year.

And James just used his dead mother’s wedding ring to replace Sarah’s lost locket. That is just. ADORABLE. MY BABIES. OH. PLEASE JUST GET MARRIED.

throwrocksandcuddle  asked:

just saw ur comment that you have a really strong startle reflex. I do too, from a past partner who was sexually abusive. my current bf doesn't really get that when he touches me without me being aware he's about to touch me, i automatically get scared. like, as a reflex. he says it feels like i don't trust him, and i've told him that's not the case- my mind totally trusts him, but my body just sends me crazy danger signals anyways. do you have any advice or tricks that have worked for you? thx!

The people that I’ve trusted most in my life have been the people totally aware of their ability to hurt me. They aren’t ashamed that they have it; they just choose not to use it. My foster dad was the only person I fully trusted until I was 25, and he’s a military combat veteran with PTSD. I think a lot of what made him so trustworthy for me was that he was never upset when I was startled or uncomfortable with him; he just factored that into his plans. “I’ll explain it, but to adjust your stance more I’d have to come in and move your legs.”  “You can sit on this couch with me, or drag over that chair.” “If you’re okay being around people with guns, you can come to [event], otherwise I’ll see you on Thursday.” And we’re from a social context where some people just DO have those triggers, and you accept that and Don’t Fucking Touch People When They Can’t See You.  My own startle reflex is from childhood bullying, but it blends in pretty well with a found-family of military veterans and trauma survivors.

So I mean, there are ways to tone down a startle reflex, which are mostly just “ways to get PTSD treated” but I for one? Chose to actively keep my startle reflex even as I went through other treatments (medication, therapy, EMDR, yoga, etc). I’m generally a pretty passive and gentle person IRL, since I’ve worked to be very soothing and calming to other trauma victims in my work, but that means my boundaries get trampled a lot. If I didn’t have a strong startle reflex, I’d just freeze up when my physical boundaries are infringed on, whereas the startle gives me the energy I need to get physically clear and have a bit of adrenaline going to do something scary like tell them to back off.

So you know, this is me and the choices I’ve made–choices like “not dating anyone until I was 29 and finally found someone 100% okay with my boundaries”–but I’d tell your boyfriend to learn to deal with it?  If you were a combat veteran who startled every time he dropped something loud, I bet he’d have a lot more sympathy for you and not make it All About Him.  I mean, I get that it sucks to make a gesture of intimacy and connection and have it rebuffed, but the point is: IT’S NOT ABOUT HIM, BECAUSE IF YOU KNEW IT WAS HIM YOU WOULDN’T FLINCH. You say yourself that it’s about being aware that it’s him touching you! It’s knowing, “This is my boyfriend, whom I trust; a serial killer hasn’t wormed his way under my couch and decided to wrap an arm around me.”  

So maybe he needs to work on better signalling his presence the way my found family does, like audibly making sounds when he’s coming up behind you (scuffing his feet as he walks, jingling keys, humming or whistling), approaching from within your field of vision before he touches you, or moving from a known area of touch for a new one (so if, say, he’s standing next to you, instead of just throwing an arm around your shoulders, he touches a near part of you with his hand, then slides it across your shoulders, so you’re always aware of what’s happening.)

Maybe HE lives in a world where people can be 100% trustworthy? Maybe he lives in a world where it’s reasonable to be hurt when people don’t automatically interpret everything you do as benign. But I’ve lived with being traumatized for so long, and lived around traumatized people so long, that I’m like, “That sounds like an interesting place, I wonder what colour the sky is there.”  Like… you don’t think he’s bad or malign or going to kill you (one PRESUMES), but at the same time, you live in a world where the people you’re socially close to and comfortable around CAN hurt you, and your definition of “trust” is always going to mean choosing to be around them despite knowing they can hurt you. It’s not very possible for you or your body to just un-know that.

And in the end it ABSOLUTELY would not cool or fair if you end up in a situation where HE can show upset and discomfort with your emotional expressions, but YOU cannot show upset and discomfort with his, and his unhappiness is more important than yours, and you’re the one working to silence your discomfort for the good of the relationship but he’s not working to change his behaviour and deal with his emotions to make you happy. He needs to take his sadness over your “not trusting” him and go, “Okay, it’s not me, so now I’m just sad that my girlfriend had these negative experiences, but I will use that sadness to make sure I act in a way that feels safer and more comfortable to her.”

Will you love my loneliness as much as I’ve loved the absence of your voice? As much as I’ve drank from the echo of walls holding names I shouldn’t own - forgive me if I choose the rain over the skin I’ve been cutting you out of. They say my eyes resemble yours, the brown that never held mine when I fell in the abyss you created when you shut me out. I still try to ease the moments of loss with the unreasonable consolation that may be it wasn’t just you, but we know that’s not the truth. They say you must live in my laugh because the stars shine when my eyes crinkle, but I’ve been smiling to stop the questions. I’ve been smiling to increase the distance between our words. I’ve been smiling to remind myself that the what ifs aren’t the only happiness slipping through my fingers. The fingers that craved to hold yours on first steps. The only place you exist now are the incomplete moments, sad poems, worn out sweater, empty room, old frame and forgotten smell. I owe you my existence and you own the destruction I lived as childhood. So forgive me if I choose a blank page over all those sad poems i wrote waiting for you. I used to think sunsets were for reflecting moments you’re proud of, but every night I watch you walk away in fists I’ve felt more than the I love you’s I’ve cried. I see your eyes every day, but you’re nowhere to be found. And so I have stopped searching you in the scattered pieces of my yesterdays. I have stopped making castles where the sand only slips away from all the spaces you created. We never perfected the bond of blood and now I no longer keep the lights on for you to come. I am now in peace with the tomorrow which won’t wonder if life would be any different had you been here.
—  a collab with @untold-stories-here

I feel like everyone else’s abusive parents are narcissists, abusing their kids to support their own self-image. I think both of my parents have un-diagnosed autism, inherently unable to understand how the things they do make me feel.

Rest in Peace Chester. You were part of my childhood and helped me survive my own depression in high school. It’s sad to see you go that way.

Call (1-800 273 8255) - National Suicide Prevention

Text (741741) - Crisis Text Line

UK:  116123



Do you see what I tried to do? IDDDDDDD I thought it would be a good practice to draw some of our pictures. At work (school) the children, teens and co-workers ask me how I got “good” at drawing. One of my answers is that I started with copyind pictures (in addition to my own ideas) in my childhood. And you can see many things doesn’t look right so I still have to practice a lot x_X (but I love drawing so much - especially these two. ( I still feel sooo flattered and motivated drawing these dorks. I totally love to be part of this fandom. @moonraccoon-exe ( ♥ ) calls me “regclar prince” and I want to fulfill this title )

Regis - @onifukuchou  ♥ ♥ ♥

Clarus - myself 8DDD

Photos: Mr_Nikiforov  (Twitter)

i also constantly feel like a weird mish-mash and an oxymoron, but that’s ok, real people don’t fit into tropes neatly, i can do whatever i want, i am that weird and honestly kinda creepy sun and moon wall art

Poetry 78

The grass is cool and crisp beneath my feet
The sun is warm upon my face
The summer breeze plays with my hair
I have no cares when I’m here
You can’t overcome me
You can’t break me
Shake me
No you can’t take me down
I’m not just a woman
I’m a warrior fighting for what I love
I’m worthy
I’m beautiful
I’m happy with who I am
I love myself to the core and back
I’m deserving of the best

My chest moves up and down
To the beat of the earth surrounding me,
A drum worth chasing
The soil is between my toes
It feels so perfect here
On my own
With no fears
Without you here
I’ve graduated from childhood
You never thought I could
Now I’m blooming in this heavenly place
Like the vibrant flowers surrounding me
The smell of perfume is in the air
Even you couldn’t bring me here
This place was created especially for me
Here I can simply be at peace
On my own
But never alone
I love this new exotic place
I’ll race you to the moon as the sun begins to fade

i hate my stupid brain and i hate trauma related regression and i hate all the adults that didn’t look after me the first time round and left me to babysit my own damn self two decades later.

but mostly right now i hate that sharing space with my six year old self means the return of the blue man in the corner staring at me while i sleep.

don’t talk to me about zayn malik loving books.

don’t talk to me about yaser and trisha buying baby books for doniya. don’t talk to me about how they asked for diapers and books for trisha’s first baby shower. and second. and third and fourth. don’t talk to me about yaser probably reading baby books to trisha’s stomach. don’t talk to me about yaser and trisha taking really good care of doniya’s books so they could read them to their next kid. and the next and the next.

don’t talk to me about yaser and trisha reading to baby zayn in english and urdu. don’t talk to me about zayn grabbing for the pictures. don’t talk to me about zayn demanding to turn the pages himself. don’t talk to me about zayn memorizing the stories and the cadence of the words before he learned to read. don’t talk to me about zayn sitting on his own, making up new stories for the illustrations in his picture books.

do not even BEGIN to speak to me about zayn learning to read and write in english and urdu and arabic. don’t talk to me about his terrible handwriting. don’t talk to me about how he wrote the letter Z backwards until he was like seven. don’t talk to me about how he insisted on storytime every night until he was twelve and too cool to let his mum and dad tuck him in. don’t talk to me about how yaser and trisha encouraged him to read aloud to them. DO NOT even THINK about speaking to me about him reading aloud to waliyha and safaa.

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More in the Anders Meets the Inner Circle series: Dorian!

(Blackwall | Cullen | Cole | Dorian | The Iron Bull)

He got to know Dorian later, after he’d settled in to his new role at Skyhold a bit. Dorian spent most of his time in the library, also a place of intense interest to Anders, so it was only natural their paths would cross. Dorian was at first polite, but wary, chatting about airy nothings even as he kept his proverbial guard up at all times. 

Whether he disliked Anders in particular for some reason, or had just learned harsh lessons about being too trusting in general, Anders did not know. But it was clear to Anders that behind the disinterested facade, Dorian was a sociable, warm-hearted man who was lonely and adrift in a strange world. In many ways, he reminded Anders of himself in his own youth – well, himself, if he had been wealthier. And snobbier. And more fashion-conscious. And –

Much like himself, at any rate. 

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anonymous asked:

If it doesn't make you uncomfortable... do you have any pictures before you knew you were trans? Were you really boyish then?

ahaha! no, i wasnt. and its not uncomfortable for me at all! it is for some people though, so always make sure to ask.

my hairstyle stayed the same for 12 years. oh my god.

like i tell everyone: i was always a boy. always. maybe i didnt know it (i grew up with a very, VERY vague suspicioun, but dont feel bad if you dont know at all for a while!! it doesnt make you any less trans <3) but i was. so i dont say “i was cute as a little girl :)” and i dont appreciate others saying it. i always say i was a little boy, because i was.

and, well…

…damn, i grew up cute. little kid me would be v happy