If you continue to carry the bricks from your past, you will end up building the same house. #processingtrauma #forwardmomentum #lettingitgo

Episode YES: Insomnia Strikes Back

Hello, cherished mothers and fuckers. Lazarus here once more with your daily Des Moines Cropduster (context below, thanks, Theo).

I thought this prompt looked interesting and I have a few responses for y’all.

If you had a freeway billboard, what would it say?

Here are my favorite contenders thus far:

Ashley Halliwell’s Brainhole, New and Improved, Under New Management. NOW WITH MORE INSOMNIA!

Got questions? We have answers. Believe them or else.

The speed limit on this freeway is 80mph. But we bet you are not going as fast as MY BRAIN CAN PROCESS EVERYTHING…

How many sins have you committed today? Not as many as This Motherfucker. [photo of my face] If you can commit more Christological heresies than This Bitch in a 24 hour period, YOU get a free cardboard box.

Got Lore? We Sure Do. Follow For More.

All of the potential billboards would include a link to Open Sorcery for the bit, of course.

And simply to up the ante, I would place the billboards in and around the Cleveland, Ohio metro area. What can I say? I know my audience.

In case y’all can’t tell by the above dastardly suggestions and the post title, insomnia is STILL kicking my ass. I am beginning to wonder if it’s because of the fact that, on top of the vitamin B supplements I’ve been taking, I have started taking ibuprofen and Tylenol every 4-6 hours when I don’t lose time to deal with my chronic pain further. It’s working wonderfully for the pain. However, there’s been one absolute motherfucker of an unintended consequence. My brain has come completely, exhaustingly alive again, just like it did before my now-integrated headmate Allēna came down with mono when she was 16.

It doesn’t shut up. Nothing helps it. Not sex (for very long, anyway), not getting stoned off my ass, NOTHING. Zilch. Nada. The only thing that even remotely helps is letting myself pursue whatever idea has fascinated me until I’m so thoroughly burnt out and exhausted that I see fucking double and finally pass out. And even then, I sleep maybe 4-6 hours a night. It’s very, very rare these days that I get more sleep than that, and the sleep I get is absolute garbage. My dreams are vivid. I toss, I turn, I’m up every few hours… I swear I’m more delirious than asleep.

Am I simply a husky in human form?

This shit has made me intimately and acutely aware of why my strictly enforced bedtime was 8PM for most of my youth. I didn’t fucking sleep! I COULDN’T fucking sleep!

I’m realizing as well why my dad, Xavier, and my late grandmother, Rose, were always doing projects, as well, and I am more grateful for this blog and my myriad other projects and interests every day.

Rose was a chemist by trade, ran every damn social club in her town, was a former art dealer with a glorious collection of beautiful art, gourmet chef/baker, read books backwards, and I never saw her sleep more than four to six hours, either, before she got very sick in 2010. She was an indisputable genius whose brain was also fucking ALIVE, and frankly I can’t blame her for having so many interests and being constantly on the move. If I could handle it physically, I would be, too. Lord knows I am mentally at this point.

Fuck.

Well, that’s enough bitching about my blazing fast brainhole from me for one day. I’m probably gonna watch some TV and scream into the void or something, also known as every DM in existence. Emerson and Zelda are spending the night together and going out to a Fancy Restaurant tonight which means that your gremlin gets delicious leftovers, hehe. I live for tasty leftovers. I’m also calling my cozy partner in Michigan, Autumn, later. They were the suitor I mentioned a bit ago in this post and things are going so well! So things aren’t all shitty in my brain.

But before I go… Memes.

Stay tuned for more magic, lovely entities! I love y’all.

Cropdusting complete. Lazarus out.

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#2010 #annoyance #AutumnThePartner #chronicFatigue #chronicIllness #chronicIllnessRecovery #dailyprompt #dailyprompt1808 #DesMoinesCropduster #EBV #Emerson #ibuprofenExperiment #insomnia #jokes #memes #processingTrauma #ramble #rant #Rose #Theo #vitaminB100Experiment #Xavier #Zelda #ZeldaSystem

On Hooking ‘Em and Cooking ‘Em (Get Your Minds Out Of The Gutter, You Sinners)

Hello, assembled host. Lazarus here once more with more bullshit for your viewing pleasure. The below prompt from the journaling app Day One looks interesting, so I shall answer it in due time, but before I get into the thick of it, have a fucking meme I cooked up last night that is tangentially related because I said so.

Do you spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Why?

Today’s prompt from Day One.

To answer the intriguing question the prompt posed, my answer is both. Why, you may ask? Because I’m an AuDHD gremlin with a fucking brainhole with a working knowledge of world history from my years spent as a tutor who happens to see the future on occasion due to a nifty combination of brain damage, annoyingly supercharged intuition, synesthesia, and neurodivergent pattern recognition. In short, my brain never shuts the fuck up, especially as I continue my inner work and find pockets of my mind that I have repressed for years. I have next to no sense of linear time or object permanence. Can I get a pretty damn accurate sense of who you are within five minutes of meeting you? Absolutely. Do I know where my cell phone is half the time? Oh gods no.

And due to surviving a helluva lot of trauma, having a near perfect autobiographical memory, and being unusually well traveled due to being raised with an ass load of money and being so charismatic I annoy myself, I have many, many stories to tell on top of my knowledge of world history. I call these stories my Lore or my Tragic Backstory interchangeably depending on how I’m feeling that day. As demonstrated by the meme I shared above, people seem to like the stories that come out of my facehole.

So yeah. I spend a lot of time thinking about both. Time isn’t linear, anyway, so what the hell? Mentally I’m almost constantly relaxing on a huge plot of land in Sullivan County, Pennsylvania ten years from now, or trying to find various belongings of mine that have disappeared into the fucking ether again. Where are Y’ALL mentally?

Anywho, it’s almost my naptime. Before I go, have more memes and a video of me voice acting for a kitten who I call Sean Connery Nugget with the Zelda System. 🤣

Goodnight, lovely gremlins. Tell me of your many travels in the comments, throw a party, do whatever you want. Just be excellent to each other, that’s all I ask. 💛 Until next time, stay tuned for more magic. – Lazarus

PS. 2011 or so called and it wants you to have this earworm back 🤣

https://open.spotify.com/track/02GjIfCpwttPAikjm5Hwcb?si=P4WU3rDKQSGZinC-AT7cvg

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#alchemist #alchemy #cptsd #dailyprompt #dailyprompt1808 #deconstruction #lore #memes #processingTrauma #prophecies #SeanConnery #SeanConneryNugget #strokeSurvivor #tbi #tragicBackstory #Xavier #Zelda #ZeldaSystem

The Himbo Who Sauntered To Earth

Well, hello, everyone. This won’t be the typical sort of post you may have gotten used to seeing here on Open Sorcery. First, these are somewhat unprecedented circumstances.

A few weeks ago, it was discovered that not every headmate in the system decided to integrate. Most of them did. However, we found out that River had constructed an integration-proof bomb shelter deep within the headspace in the event of  circumstances such as this, and he and a handful of others elected to not integrate. To that end, the system is only approximately 92% integrated. I am, if you haven’t guessed, dear reader, not Lazarus, either. Call me Theo. Rather than hole up in a bomb shelter for heaven knows how long, however, I am a relatively recent addition to the system.

I joined to help Laz get a damn break. They’ve been puzzling through a great deal of stress and processing enormous volumes of trauma in a very short time, and frankly, although they’re making excellent progress sorting through things like burnout recovery, they need a hand. They are exhausted.

They figured out a few days ago that if they take ibuprofen and acetomenophen in tandem with their other meds and supplements, not only are they nearly completely pain free most of the time, but their brain fog and fatigue is almost completely gone, as well. This left them with an overwhelming amount of information they suddenly had access to, and while they were making good time processing it, the sheer amount of information in their mind alone was beginning to overwhelm and distress them. So I stepped in at their request, and we have been switching in and out of front when one of us gets too tired to maintain front directly or when one of us is better suited for a certain task.

So far, I have been attempting to categorize some of the information in this mind to make it more easy for Lazarus to work with. They have described lugging it all around as having “the Library of Alexandria in their head, except it’s all bunched up and interconnected with itself to such a degree that it’s impossible to even start to know where one topic begins or ends.” The sheer amount of interconnected, associated knowledge paralyzes them when it comes time to blog or even do something they know they would love, therefore keeping them trapped in a sinkhole of executive dysfunction and anxiety. I hope that if I can make heads or tails of it or at least start by doing something that isn’t nothing with all of it, it may make it easier for them to work with it all at the level they want to as they regain strength over time. I’ve also been taking on more of the physical self care tasks they normally can’t do because by some miracle, it’s easier for me and it doesn’t appear to drain me nearly as badly to attempt or complete them, so hopefully things become less of an anxiety hell for the system overall as time goes on.

Laz has taken to calling me “the himbo who sauntered to Earth” because I keep pulling stunts in headspace to try and make them laugh. So far it’s just made them grumble at me, so I’ve given them more space. I don’t think putting a manhole cover on my head IMMEDIATELY after they said that I idle at Mach Jesus and making faces at them was the best idea in hindsight.

Ah, well. I am doing my best to learn.

I look forward to posting more, but for now, I think I am going to dissociate into music or something for the time being and possibly nap. It was a pleasure to meet all of you. As Lazarus says, stay tuned for more magic!

-Theo xx

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#academics #alchemist #alchemy #alters #deconditioning #headspace #MachJesus #memes #processingTrauma #weWantADamnVacation

Hi, everyone! I’m sorry for going kinda dark for these past couple days. My brain has been kind of tired from this past week, so I have been resting until I felt up to writing again. I went to Emerson and told him about how bad I felt that I hadn’t been writing due to exhaustion, and he gently reminded me that we had a standing agreement to blog together on Sundays, so a post would happen today, at the very least.

This is indeed happening as I write this, he is sitting beside me eating some leftover pasta from last night’s dinner and working on a post of his own. I think we may be using the same prompt, in fact. Our mutual prompt question, if we are in fact using the same one, is something to the effect of “what was a time that you learned something about a loved one that changed your perception of them?” I’m sure I’m not quoting the prompt question verbatim, I’m still very tired, but you get the picture.

There are many occurrences I could think of with others, too many to count. The majority of these were profoundly negative, as well. Both myself and my former headmates have written enough about my tragic fucking backstory for y’all to get the point, I think. So instead of doing that and pointing fingers for the umpteenth time, I want to write about crashing and burning in 2022 like I mentioned in this post. Because ultimately, I am starting to love myself, making myself a loved one by technicality, and this massively changed my perception of my abilities, what a beautiful life looked like, and what sorts of things were possible for me.

In 2022, I was a dead person walking who didn’t realize it at the time. I was largely bedbound from that bout of COVID the past winter, and had surrounded myself with people who consistently expected more from me than I was able to provide, which just threw me further and further into burnout.

I had committed fully to polyamory in autumn of 2021 before getting sick for a month, and my polycule was just as messy or even messier than I was. At its largest point, I was dating twenty people simultaneously.

My mind was shattered from two and a half decades of trauma, I was somewhat openly plural, I was in excruciating mental and emotional pain, and I was in the thick of the final act of the  infamous Operation: Dead Hand, as well, wherein my mother, Hera, was plotting to steal my biological child from both myself and my best friend using Texas’ court system. I couldn’t realistically manage any of it. Despite being surrounded by people who claimed to have my best interests at heart, I had never really felt more alone.

I did my best to appear to the outside world like I was holding myself together, afraid that Hera would take anything I posted or any information that got back to her through the grapevine and use it against me to further her case and maintain control. I was deeply afraid of vulnerability and betrayal for very good reason. So, with my back against the wall, I tried to carry all of my own stress and terror and that of my polycule alone while asking for as little help as possible.

All of that came crashing down when one of my partners at the time, Kira, moved in with the partners I was living with at the time, claiming she had nowhere else to go. She was just as cunning a plotter as Hera and myself, and she quickly tried to get her hooks in as many of my partners as she could. By the time I managed to drive her out of town, she had manipulated her way through a solid half of the polycule, which was a staggering feat considering how guarded I was. But she underestimated me, judging me for a helpless, crippled simpleton who had no idea what she was doing, and I got her out of the area in the nick of time.

However, I was teetering on the edge of a total collapse, and Kiragate, as this roughly month and a half long ordeal came to be called, took any remaining energy out of me. I went on vacation to Binghamton, New York at the end of October, and spent the majority of that trip in a crossfaded stupor. It was nowhere close to my finest hour.

However, around that time, I had reconnected with an old flame I had met when I first moved to Milwaukee. We’ll call her Leigh. I told her all about what was going on, and she expressed regret that she had left Milwaukee, because then we could have hung out. It turns out that she was living in Madison, about a hour and a half away.

Leigh and I had parted on strange terms. Her partners had tried to run me out of town the winter prior, and she spun it as though she had had no say in that decision and that they had read our quick closeness as a threat to the power they had been building at her expense, as they had been on the rocks for some time. However, by that point they were out of her life and had fucked all the way off to Denver, Colorado and were doing gods know what out there.

She was lonely in Madison, and I was still very fond of her and was deeply dissatisfied with the way things were going with the partners I was living with and had been for some time, even before Kiragate.

Kira had simply taken advantage of the existing problems that were there before she had arrived and in essence held us under occupation and exacerbated them. It’s a tactic as old as time, and she did it masterfully. So I wanted to get the hell out of that shit show, hopefully for good, rest up, and build a better life with Leigh. The original plan was for her to move back out to Milwaukee, but in the interim, she was bound to a lease in Madison, so I was going to split time and we were going to travel back and forth to see each other.

So, Leigh came out to visit for awhile, and she quickly began to encourage me to come out to stay with her awhile as I opened up to her more and more about what was going on at home. Finally, after a particularly nasty fight with one of my partners, I packed enough shit to get the fuck out to Madison indefinitely, hopped on a bus with Leigh, and headed out.

However, before I did that, I sent a quick message to someone who’d been asking for me to find a way to Madison to meet up since earlier that year, another very cunning individual who we shall call Stregobor. He was good at long cons. So good at long cons, in fact, that I didn’t know he was a fellow magic user until I was already dating him. I was equal parts  desperate and charismatic, and Stregobor was a suitor who was one of, as I like to say, my “decisions of all time”. A mistake, in other words.

I was originally only intending to stay in Madison for a month. However, once I started dating Stregobor and Leigh found out exactly how good I was at saving her ass and meeting new people, that month turned into about two. Stregobor started coming by a lot and Leigh adored him.

He was also polyamorous, so shortly after we became partners, we added each other to our respective polycule group chats. This turned out to be a mistake on Stregobor’s part. Through his group chat, I met his spouse, who I was initially wary of because of my deep trust issues and agoraphobia. However, this absolute delight of a human being quickly won me over despite my terror, and I adored him. He quickly became one of my best friend. We will call him Peregrinus.

Now, among Stregobor’s many hobbies, which also included reading excellent dark, urban fantasy books and being both a dungeon master and player for tabletop role playing games, he also enjoyed talking shit about nearly everyone in his life. Peregrinus was not safe from this asshat behavior, and nor was I, I’d come to find out. The only one he didn’t disparage behind closed doors was his sister, and I suppose everyone has to draw a line somewhere. From what I have heard, though, she is worthy of that care.

Because I had spoken to Stregobor first, the first part of my friendship with Peregrinus was confusing because of all of the utter horseshit Stregobor had been saying. Peregrinus was not how he had been painted at all, and he was in fact made of very strong, upstanding stuff when it came down to the wire. He was funny, sweet, and I adored him.

We got especially close one night when he was bored at work and invited me to come hang out for the end of his shift. I didn’t do that sort of thing at the time. Not at all. I was terrified of new places and new people, and this was definitely a newish person in a new place. But as soon as I was about to sheepishly refuse, I got the overwhelming sense that I needed to go.

We were already supposed to hang out later that week, we were going to meet up for coffee. There were firm plans. I liked firm plans. Firm plans were safe. This? This was foolish, reckless, and at this point I was learning that recklessness without some kind of a backup plan or preparation was what kept getting me fucked up in life. But I also knew that I shouldn’t ignore it when I got the overwhelming sense that I was supposed to do something. That was a clear sign that that something, whatever it may be, was important.

So, wondering if I was crazy the entire damn time, I jumped into the shower, called a Lyft, packed enough energy drinks to stay upright and decently awake, told Leigh I was going out for a bit, and went to Peregrinus’ work. I was so fucking nervous the whole way there, and spent the entire ride debating what I was going to say to him first. I finally settled on a classic one liner – “come here often?” – and swaggered my tired ass into the lobby.

The conversation was amazing. We talked about so many things for fucking hours. However, after I was able to effortlessly summon a little alter of Peregrinus’ to front after he swore he was not plural, no less, I decided to try something. Peregrinus had an original character that he used to roleplay as from time to time, so I tested a theory I had that he was also an alter.

I said in the most seductive tone I could muster, “Hi, Michael…” and lo and fucking behold, the bitch himself came straight to front. The first words out of this man’s mouth were “if I could take you home with me tonight, I would.” I was very, very flustered and very full of queer panic. He was such a flirt. I was honestly smitten.

But the real piece de resistance came at coffee later that week. Michael wanted to front, and front he did. He set everything up so that he guided me down the stairs of this multi-level coffeeshop like a fucking Disney Prince. I was fucking floored. I had died and gone to queer heaven. I was starting to wonder if I had to go back to Milwaukee between Stregobor, Michael, and Peregrinus.

Leigh and I were on the rocks at this point, and I had no idea that Stregobor was talking shit about me yet. Nor did I really know Peregrinus well enough to determine if what Stregobor was saying about him was accurate, but it made me uncomfortable, so I wanted to observe for longer before making any judgments.

I started dating Michael after that coffee date, and both he and Stregobor began to gently push me to consider staying out there in Madison with them rather than splitting time as originally planned. I was exhausted, and becoming more so by the day.

One day, I finally had enough. One of my partners, whom we shall call Sol, had been bitterly heartbroken over my ex best friend, who was also dating her. I didn’t want to get more involved in the drama than I already had been, as I had seen this coming since March of 2022, warned him about it, he didn’t listen, and shit had begun to spiral from there on out on top of all the other shit I had been dealing with.

I didn’t like what either of them were doing to each other, nor did I like what my so called best friend was doing to me, so I decided to throw my weight behind  neither side and let the chips fall where they may and attend to my life closer to home, as all of this was happening states away.

After I broke things off with Leigh, the polycule schismed and broke roughly in half, with the half that Leigh and Sol had bonded with going with her and the other half staying with me. Leigh kicked me out afterwards, understandably, leaving Stregobor, Peregrinus, and myself to urgently gather my shit and scramble for a Plan B, as none of us wanted me to go back to Milwaukee by that point. Stregobor had his best friend/hired gun of sorts scoop me up and deliver me to the hotel where he was working under the table for the next week to regroup and figure things out, and off I went.

It was during that regrouping phase that I opened up more to Stregobor about what had happened both during Kiragate and what was going on and with Operation: Dead Hand. The masterful ending move of Dead Hand was actually his idea – write to Hera’s lawyer and tell her that I want to sign away rights to my child so that Hera can adopt him like she was claiming she wanted to, because we knew something Hera wanted nobody to know.

She was planning on giving my child to a family she knew in Utah that nobody in her family knew or trusted because her husband had threatened to leave her if she planned on raising my child. The lawyer would be handed a win on a silver platter, take the deal and run, and Hera’s family would crucify her for even attempting such things because they were already attached to my child and had been from birth. The family would eat itself and I would be free to go.

We hashed that out, got some good rest for once, and made an interim plan going forward. When we came back to Madison, I took up temporary residence at Peregrinus’ apartment, where I started work on finding a permanent place to live via connections I had made through another of Stregobor’s partners. However, during that time, I bore witness to how badly Peregrinus was being treated by his other partner at the time, a man who we will call Ladron. Ladron was a walking bag of insecurities and wrath who was a lowlife with nothing to offer and knew it.

These insecurities mostly came out in the form of rages, but occasionally came out in the form of tearful emotional manipulation. This was a man who knew he wasn’t shit and I watched Peregrinus take the brunt of his issues. However, I knew I would have to tread carefully if I wanted to get Peregrinus out, as past experience showed that speaking up about it forcefully from the jump in front of Ladron would only end in more pain for all of us. I needed to get to safety first, at the very least.

I found a room in a place nearby, moved in, and started befriending my housemates, who felt safe for once. I felt safe. But then, around Peregrinus’ birthday, we found out that my housemate had given us COVID. So Peregrinus had to shelter in place at my apartment for a couple weeks and found that he felt much safer with me than at his place.

It was during that quarantine period that I first witnessed Stregobor talking shit about me, and after all of the nonsense with the schism and watching Peregrinus taking Ladron’s hits over and over and then by contrast, Michael, Peregrinus, and my kind housemates treating me exceptionally well, I decided I had yet again had enough. I fucking deserved better. So did Peregrinus. So I officially asked him to stay and live with me. By some miracle, we made it happen. We were both safe. Peregrinus and I ended up breaking things off with Stregobor, and I didn’t have to go to Milwaukee after all.

I stayed in Madison for another four months or so. Peregrinus noticed my exhaustion and started gently, yet firmly telling me to rest and handle more things. It was a swift kick to the ‘nads to all I had ever known, and it was brutally emotionally and mentally painful.

My body had started to collapse so thoroughly from the stress of everything I’ve written about here that I had become for all intents and purposes allergic to sunlight and incredibly intolerant to heat. I firmly believe I was dying, and I very likely was. However, Peregrinus was a stubborn little ram, and stepped the fuck up.

He didn’t stop, either. He nursed me back to health and in many ways, brought me back to life. I saved him, and in return, he saved me. Later, from that same plural system, Emerson emerged. He has the same indefatigable iron will, and we still take care of each other. He tells me to sit the fuck down when I need it, and vice versa.

I still work fucking hard for my people, I just don’t do it to my detriment anymore, and I value my time, energy and life enough to not write myself out of the equation anymore. I am learning to truly love myself and love my life for the first time, disabilities and limitations and all, and I couldn’t have done it without all the bullshit I alchemized along the way.

I think that’s enough for tonight. Stay tuned for more magic, dear people. I love y’all, and I hope you love yourselves, too, as best you can.

-Lazarus, Master of Bullshit, Sorcery, and Ceremonies

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https://opensorceryy.co/chrysalyzed/

#2022 #adventures #agoraphobia #alchemist #alchemy #askingForHelp #backstory #Beany #bedbound #beingPrivate #boundaries #charisma #chosenFamily #chronicFatigue #chronicIllness #chronicIllnessRecovery #communication #cptsd #deadHand #deconditioning #deconstruction #disabilities #dissociativeIdentityDisorder #drama #happiness #Hera #Kira #Leigh #Madison #Michael #onSuffering #pain #Pennsylvania #Peregrinus #polyamory #postTraumaticGrowth #processingTrauma #progress #recovery #relationships #selfLove #Stregobor #vitaminB100Experiment #Zelda

Hey, peeps. This is Allēna. My PTSD is kicking my ass today, but at least y’all get cool art out of it. We appear to be that special kind of creator that gets even more inspiration when our trauma comes back to kick our ass, taking us from decently prolific to FUCKING ON FIRE creatively in order to cope with the emotional pain of it all. Today has been no exception. First up is a poem that spilled out of me this morning before I went back to sleep for about three hours:

Let’s set the scene 
The year is 2019
I wake with the dawn and simply try and breathe -

You give me tools and time and I will build my way through this rage 
I will sing and chew my way through the bars of 
this cage

Five years later and I still can’t sleep
I still feel stuck with the cards close to my
concave chest 
When will the craving subside? 
When will I stop hungering for more? 
Nothing short of everything? 

They couldn’t take my mind
No matter how hard they tried 
They couldn’t strip me of the things I’ve seen
They could never quite dull the hunger in my eyes

The dawn breaks anew and I lay in a room 
still trying to spread these battered wings
surrounded by nothing but windows… 

And then I got inspired again this evening and painted what my synesthesia makes of “Didn’t It Rain” by Songs: Ohia, one of the songs that sonically shaped our album Metacognition. The PTSD attack is pertaining to the events that set off the hot streak that caused Eight to write and record the bulk of Metacognition, so I figured painting a song that he had on repeat at the time would help get some of the emotions out, and it did. I wasn’t present during that time, so I’m essentially having to process someone else’s trauma right now and all I know to do with it is make art and talk about art. I feel like a mess, even though logically I know it’s pretty damn healthy to process shit this way. Here is the painting for y’all:

I’m not really okay, y’all, but I deal with shit like this regularly enough that I know how to get through it safely, and y’all get cool art in the process. I’m over at Emerson’s currently, but once I’m back at Sheik’s I or whoever else is in front will probably drop some more spare room roaring on here. 💛

Fucking flashbacks.

Anyway…

Stay tuned for more magic!

-Allēna, your traumatized, if hyper-prolific, super-admin. Fuck PTSD up the ass with a Joseph cactus. 😭

https://opensorceryy.co/yay-ptsd-art-for-the-people/

#cptsd #Emerson #flashbacks #introspection #ourPoetry #paintings #processingTrauma #ptsd #ptsdFlare #Sheik #songwriting #synesthesia #visualArt

Oh shit. I just remembered an episode of being stalked and harassed and threatened online having bumped into the wrong person while tracking down my medi weed dealer when markets all moved on the darkweb.
Turns out I may not have told anyone at the time, cos you know, doing illegal stuff.
One of a number of small traumas one learns to just deal with on your own.
No more on my own. Thx world. x

#NoMoreOnMyOwn
#AutisticMutism
#ProcessingTrauma