u/thrownawaywhen

Context..
When I was very little, I was put in an evangelical school that connected to an evangelical church. As you can guess, they were heavily religious and rigid. You could almost call it a cult. I was physically, emotionally, spiritually abused, and so were other children. We were formed to believe that it was normal.

My parents were never religious. They put me in the hellhound because it was cheap. I can't blame them, I did believe it was all normal, so I barely attempted to tell them stuff. Though..

Yesterday I told my father about some of the abuse. I do it sometimes, he looks concerned but quickly forgets until I tell him about it again, then he tells me I never told him. It's okay. That's okay. But this time I asked him if we could keep talking about it later.

When he came home to spend time with me, I had to try again.

Back then, they told me there was an incident about a boy who beat me up. I can remember the aftermath of that, but not the day in itself. Years later, they'd decide to tell me my dad was called to the courtroom by the pastor (the school's director) to testify against the boy's mother. She was suing them for something. I never knew the details, I never found the truth.

And so I asked him how that went. He wasn't really paying attention. He said,

”Oh, the pastor called me one day. He told me this boy's mother was suing the school and asked me to testify. So I did.”

”...What was she suing for? Did you ever know?”

”Eh. ...Child abuse, something like that.”

”...Didn't you ask for specifics?”

”No. Just told the story and left. Think they were trying to argue that the mother was crazy.”

Then, the subject was changed abruptly. But that stupid conversation shattered me. As soon as he left, I dropped the smile and started tearing up.

My dad was my only source of comfort and security as a child. He told me I was the most important thing that had happened in his life, and even if I didn't believe that, it soothed me. So then, how could that happen? How could he not have questioned the accusations? I know the boy's mother was truthful. I don't care if he hit me. I remember that boy. And I'm sure that even if he was trouble, he was suffering just as much as I was.
And my parents, both of them, informed of this, informed of the accusations, and already having so many clues of oddities regarding the school, just chose to not only ignore it, but agree, contribute, forget.

Nobody was held accountable. Nobody cared. Nobody cares. And I'm left to sit with this horrible hollowness inside me for the rest of my life. I can't bear this.

Corpse paint is a B&W face paint style which is supposed to resemble a corpse, though in my opinion very few actually do. It isn't partisan as far as I know, just tightly related with rock and metal music.

That being said me and my friend have a little ritual of hanging out at random public spots with different corpse paints each month - we enjoy the music, follow the style and often get funny interactions with this.

This month we went to a local mall. It all went pretty smoothly, except, when we were leaving, a group of teenagers started following us and visibly snapping pictures and filming. Yes, later we did find out we were posted online. It sucks, it's a privacy violation, probably cyberbullying aswell, but whatever. My friend dropped me off at a road near my house, it was approaching midnight, starting to rain, and everything was dark and silent.

I was already feeling bummed because of the teens when out of nowhere comes a motorcyclist, splashes dirty puddle water on me using his bike's wheels, and yells ”f*cking clown”.

Fellas, I cannot understand what is it about face painting that could upset someone so much to do such. There were not any hate symbols or symbols at all in my makeup. Nothing. So what is it that could prompt this seemingly random harassment? In the middle of the night? What is it that could possibly go through someone's head that makes them think, do something like this? Especially for something so trivial? I would like to know what passes through these people's brains, how does it feel to be able to be bothered by something so meaningless?

I wonder if there's people out there who actually find fulfillment in caregiving like that. In online spaces, I don't really know how it works, I see a lot of littles talking about gross things perverts send them pretending to be caregivers, and then I see a lotta people whose caregivers are just their very, very loving girlfriend/boyfriend.

The worlds seems very cold and hostile. I'd never imagine someone wanting to do that for me. So how do littles find that at all? In a world so careless, how can one captivate another so much so that that person becomes your caregiver as if you were their own child? Not even actual parents do that properly.

I don't know. Sad.

I am seventeen, and am a boy.
I am romantically attracted to women, I would kiss a woman's mouth, I would cuddle, snuggle with a woman, I would be held by a woman and feel soothed by her voice and presence. I am certain that this is romantic attraction.

But the thought of having sexual relations with a woman makes me feel uncomfortable and bad.

With men, I would do all these romantical things, and differently from women they are whom I've felt sexually attracted to before. Now, I don't really know if my sexual attraction is natural or a product of trauma – I barely have had crushes on boy's my age in my life and have had nymphomaniac behaviour as a symptom. of said trauma. I only ever felt something for two young boys my age, and it was purely romantical – I never had sexual fantasies about them and the thought of possibly doing so made me feel gross.

Am I homosexual and biromantic? Biromantic and asexual? None? This has been confusing me and tangling things.

Recently I was attempting to practice, learn more and get better at the guitar. My dad has been playing for years, and he started explaining concepts to me after he asked if I wanted him to teach me. Sometime in the conversation, I admitted I didn't know the order of the musical notes. He told me he failed me. He told me I didn't know so many sorts of basic things.

I feel really bad, he's right. I've been diagnosed with dyscalculia. I know nothing about what's happening in school right now. I don't know the order of colors in the rainbow, I don't know the order of the months, I don't know 2-10 multiplication tables, yadda yadda yadda. When I was chrono small child my parents had never kept up with my education either, but that's barely an excuse. I was supposed to know.

I'm very ashamed right now and I don't know what to do. Each time I practice the guitar now I only feel pathetic and small, and not small in the comforting way. I feel like I missed so many things in that developmental stage, and that I can't bring them back in the same way. I feel alone much like I did back then and I hate feeling like this especially during regression. Don't know what to do.

When I say grotesque, I mean grotesque. Grotesque as in,
Cannibalism, murder, massacres, being stalked, drugged, chased, held captive, tortured, assaulted in no particular order, seeing others being assaulted, seeing friends losing members, losing my own members, witnessing violence against young children or being assaulted as a young child, being skinned, seeing not alive bodies in a not great state, vomit, etc etc doesn't matter

I don't know why this happens, I don't think about those things, I don't see shock content and I don't see p0rn, and in the nightmares I feel extremely emotionally flat like a puppet being played around. Then I wake up and go, what the fuck just happened.

Why? Do I have a problem?

This has been going on for like years

And by graphic I mean really graphic
Like gore, not alive bodies in not a great state, murder, cannibalism, body horror, losing members, seeing my friends lose members, being held captive, chased, drugged, tortured and assaulted (in not a specific order), seeing others being assaulted and being powerless to help, vomit, insects, violence involving young children and me as a child, etc etc etc you get the point sorry

No I don't see shock content, and the violence in these dreams are all aimed at me, and if I am the one doing the violent things then the dream is focused around the never ending guilt of being a terrible person. I call them dreams not nightmares because I usually only feel them after waking up, in the dream I am mostly emotionally flat inside a puppet.

Today I had an especially intense one which somehow featured almost all in the list. I don't know why this keeps happening fellas can someone enlighten me ?

Minha tia-avó morreu subitamente.
Mesmo não sendo próximo, eu fui ao funeral, que também foi o primeiro funeral que fui na vida. E foi péssimo.

O caixão estava rachado. Tinha uma barata morta no local da missa. O corpo dela estava em mal estado, com inseto saindo de dentro das cavidades dela, metade descoberto, e as mãos dela estavam para fora. A pele estava molhada porque tinham acabado de remover do freezer. Tivemos que tirar o véu e cobrir o corpo com mais flores compradas e botar as mãos dela pra dentro. Minha tia estava tremendo vendo minha tia-avó naquele estado. Quando chamamos a moça do mortuário pra reclamar, ela puxou um instrumento de metal e começou a abrir o nariz do corpo, falando 'olha, olha' para a gente olhar e ver que ela tinha 'cobrido' a cavidade. Também disse que os insetos eram das flores - não eram.

Desde então, vêm sido difícil olhar pro mundo com outros olhos. Os insetos, as plantas, meu corpo, os outros, sujeira, tudo parece que tá morto e se decompondo, tudo parece nojento, profundamente contaminado, tudo me assusta, eu não consigo nem voltar a estudar biologia pro enem porque pensar em células me faz pensar em corpo e carne morta. Eu tô com vontade de vomitar. Que merda.

[CW: Death]

My friend's sister (25) is a worker at the morgue. I (17) didn't think anything of it when my friend told me, but soon I'd discover via another friend that this girl posts several, and I mean several pictures of, well, deceased people and animals on her personal instagram. Her only 'ethic' is that she does not post the face. Still, the pictures and videos disturbed me for weeks. The pictures and videos aren't 'educational' either, only one post out of all of them contains any academic information and most of them contain edgy music and filters over them. There's also a picture where she spread a skin-lightening chemical on her face (so you can see the veins of the person), but in this case it was for the aeshetic. There's not alive cat heads on her feed. I am not joking about this, I wish I were.

I let it go for almost a year, her account is still active. But now, I have gone to my first funeral.
My grandaunt died. And it was horrible. I won't tell too many details, but the morgue people mistreated her body and during the funeral, when we called them to ask why they'd leave her looking so graphic (there were insects), the worker showed up full of excuses and opened her nose with a metal tool infront of my mum and dad while saying 'look, look', to show, with clinical coldness, that she had plugged the nose (it didn't have visible cotton in it). Otherwise the funeral was horrible, unclean, and I found it deeply disrespectful and upsetting.

I cannot get the image out of my head, and I wish I could. If I could fuck over even one of these morgue dipshits, I'd do it; That's why I have been thinking of trying to get in contact with where the previous girl works. I wouldn't my grandaunt being posted while deceased, I'm pretty sure none of the people there would've wanted to end up on an instagram account as an instrument to be gothic and edgy.

I am so sorry for all the people that have been mistreated in their most vulnerable last moment like this. I wouldn't want this for anyone or anyone's family. I have thought that before, but even more after being met with this face to face.

Its this overreaction? Am I a petty idiot?

I usually lurk and post occasionally here. I experienced bad things as a little kid, that does rise many issues in my (never fully) 'grown' life. Mainly, I struggle to regulate in anything.

I was hanging out with my friends when I was informed of what had happened, and I had to go somewhere else for almost an hour to process the information. I wasn't close to the deceased at all, I don't even remember their face. I honestly think that this unsettles me deeper, knowing that I will meet them at their funeral. That's no fair way to meet a person, especially someone that mattered to your family, that you heard of fairly often. I think of all the things I don't know, and will never.

Months ago I had dreamt that they had died. In that same day, their cat died. And then now, so have they. It feels surreal. I have never even gone to a funeral before, I was sloppily picking black clothes like a fool today. At the same time, so called 'adulthood' calls, and I can't do it. I did my obligatory paperwork to be able to vote today. In my mind, this was so far away. I don't remember when my body stretched this far.

Things are so confusing all the time. I don't think anyone cares enough to hear me.

Months ago I had dreamt that she died and my family members were devastated. I never really talked to her and there wasn't clear reason for me to be dreaming about her back then; I woke up and told my dad. In that same day, her cat passed.

And now she has, too.
I don't remember the details of the dream but even having a vague sense that I saw this scenario before it did happen makes me a little uneasy. She wasn't horribly sick or terribly old either, so there was nothing actually pointing to what would come to happen today back then.

I don't have a caregiver, so I don't have that type of external regulation. I've been struggling, my medication isn't quite working anymore and I very honestly do not find comfort in anything. It would be nice to hear from others what makes themselves feel better, safe, smaller. So far, only long hot showers with a toy of choice have helped me feel a little better.

How do you do it?

I can't draw
I just put my hands on a pencil and nothing comes to my head, I can't see anything, I can't draw anything coherent

I've failed in selling commissions, I'll fail in art, the only arguable talent I've got, and because it is all worth a little less than a cent.

I don't know how people do it. I never did. Ive lost my functionality. Nothing comes out. I tried drawing just now and I accidentally broke my tablet screen with my two canine teeth. I hate myself its so stupid i fucking broke it