iamnotadinosaur:(
lost
- Aug 19, 2025
- 54
A day or two ago I found myself so deep in thought I was fully disconnected from reality - and it's been lingering in my mind since and I supposed y'all wouldn't mind me sharing. Plus, it'd help me to get it out of my brain.
Context was I was thinking about the symbolism of how I keep my sh paraphernalia with my childhood stuffed animals' drawer (my hiding place of choice - I have severe anxiety).
In the same way that blades do for cutters, stuffed animals were there in many childhoods during all of the emotionally charged moments. A sad child cries and hugs the stuffed animal in moments of despair. Another child tantrums and throws theirs across the room in a fit of rage. The stuffed animals were there for many as an outlet tool that relieved or at least took the edge off the intense feelings. I find that the blades fill a similar role - in moments of intense despair, anguish, anger, numbness - the blade is used to relieve.
I was so lost in the symbolism of it all - the new coping mech juxtaposes the old and exaggerates the passage of time and how fast I didn't realize I was growing. I wonder so often of what 5 or 8 or 10 year-old me would think of me now? Would she be disappointed? Ashamed? Confused? Would she even recognize me at all? I look so different now - would she understand why my arms are striped, why I know almost every way for a human to kill onesself, or why I decided to cut off all my hair? I doubt it. I gazed into the face of my favorite stuffed animal from the day I was born, and I felt as if I didn't recognize it at all. It seemed like another child's toy but, then again I no longer recognize myself before 2024 as myself truly. I guess this is what happens after years of wildly intense dissociation and every other mental health issue I'm dying of (I'll spare y'all the elaboration- sorry this got much longer than I planned)
Sorry for the long post y'all but thanks for reading :)
Context was I was thinking about the symbolism of how I keep my sh paraphernalia with my childhood stuffed animals' drawer (my hiding place of choice - I have severe anxiety).
In the same way that blades do for cutters, stuffed animals were there in many childhoods during all of the emotionally charged moments. A sad child cries and hugs the stuffed animal in moments of despair. Another child tantrums and throws theirs across the room in a fit of rage. The stuffed animals were there for many as an outlet tool that relieved or at least took the edge off the intense feelings. I find that the blades fill a similar role - in moments of intense despair, anguish, anger, numbness - the blade is used to relieve.
I was so lost in the symbolism of it all - the new coping mech juxtaposes the old and exaggerates the passage of time and how fast I didn't realize I was growing. I wonder so often of what 5 or 8 or 10 year-old me would think of me now? Would she be disappointed? Ashamed? Confused? Would she even recognize me at all? I look so different now - would she understand why my arms are striped, why I know almost every way for a human to kill onesself, or why I decided to cut off all my hair? I doubt it. I gazed into the face of my favorite stuffed animal from the day I was born, and I felt as if I didn't recognize it at all. It seemed like another child's toy but, then again I no longer recognize myself before 2024 as myself truly. I guess this is what happens after years of wildly intense dissociation and every other mental health issue I'm dying of (I'll spare y'all the elaboration- sorry this got much longer than I planned)
Sorry for the long post y'all but thanks for reading :)
