Fat Friday: Standing My Ground

Image by John Hain from Pixabay

Nothing is wrong with your big body.

The way people with big bodies are abused, bullied, and devalued is wrong.

So, I told myself that I was doing all right, but I was actually starting to spiral. It all came crashing down after I ended up making a casserole that was a culinary disaster and then reading a post on a medical site by a dietitian looking for a punching bag so she turned to fat people, but of course. The sharticle in question used terms like "glorifying obesity." 

After leaving this unoriginal twatwaffle a scathing reply pointing out that there is no "glorifying obesity", there are merely people daring to exist in public while fat and it offends her delicate sensibilities, I deflated like a balloon that had been poked with a pin. I crawled under the covers and went to bed without dinner, falling asleep while watching Clone Wars and wishing I was dead.

People do not take care of things that they hate, and that includes our bodies.

Assholes like this dietitian who rail against fat people like we were the fucking second coming of the black death end up pushing fat people away from seeking help for whatever may be ailing them rather than engaging in preventative or maintenance care. Fat people tend to only go to the doctor when things become critical because of the way we are treated by the medical establishment. This goes a long way towards explaining why doctors only see unhealthy fat people. Who the hell wants to go to a place where they know they are going to be bullied?

This is why size shaming and diet culture don't work. Health at Every Size works.

I'm fat, not stupid. I know when I'm being othered and scapegoated. It's a bullshit approach, and if you use it, I'm going to tell you to go fuck yourself. 

Believe it or not, I used to be a really nice, sweet person. Being bullied and made to feel ashamed of myself at every turn beat that right the fuck out of me.

Right now, t 'is the season for "so, how's your New Years Resolutions (translate: diet culture adherence and burst of orthorexia) going?" posts.

I ditched diet culture ten years ago after 33 years of yo-yo dieting and trying to hate myself thin. I don't do new year's resolutions. If I'm going to exercise, I'm going to exercise. It's hard to do much at this point with my disabilities, but I do try to get in a walk every day. 

I absolutely do not diet. Dieting destroys a person's metabolism. I was a serial dieter and every time I dieted, the weight I lost came back with friends. 

Yes, I'm fat, and if people are going to be jerks about it, they are not people I want around me anyway.

“Is 'fat' really the worst thing a human being can be? Is 'fat' worse than 'vindictive', 'jealous', 'shallow', 'vain', 'boring' or 'cruel'? Not to me.”

― J.K. Rowling


Fat and Ornery
Image copyright Open Clipart Vectors



"Fat isn't the problem. Dieting is the problem."
--Dr. Linda Bacon

Wordy Thursday: New Mindest, New Results



Genre:
Business

Rating:
Four out of Four Stars for Online Book Club

Disclosure:
I received an advance copy of this book for review purposes.
This post contains affiliate links. If readers purchase a copy of the book through the above link, I will receive a small commission from Amazon.


This is a brief, encouraging book geared towards small business owners who have employees. It can also be utilized by solo entrepreneurs and by managers in a larger business or corporate setting. The author writes in a friendly, personable tone. He addresses issues such as communicating with one's staff in an encouraging and forthright manner as well as personal perseverance. 
When employees feel as though they are a valued part of a business, they will be engaged and involved in its growth. I wish that some of my past employers had a book like this at their disposal. They might have enjoyed increased staff retention and performance if they had treated their employees as assets rather than disposable components.


Image copyright Open Clipart Vectors



How did I Love?

Image by Ajay kumar Singh from Pixabay

A response to this post.

Oh gosh, I don't know if this will go through and I don't know if it is even welcome, but here it is.

How did I love?

With much reservation, fear, and sorrow.

I used to have such a strong need to connect with someone that I let a lot of the wrong ones in, and they did me a lot of damage.

Romantically, my theme song is Love Stinks, and I do not want anyone telling me that I need to "try again." No, I do not, and I don't want to.

Even with friendship, my theme song is Love Hurts. Most people who have said they wanted to be friends really just wanted something from me. Money or connections, when I had those. Now that I don't have much of anything, these "friends" are long gone.

I can't really relate to other people with bipolar disorder because although some of them understand the bipolar part, they don't understand the ADD, OCD, and PTSD that is also part of the package.

A lot of people get help from medications, but I can't take anything except a low dose of Lithium. I have type 2 bipolar disorder, so I normally do not get full-on manias and I normally do not experience psychosis. When I take SSRIs, I experience both. I've learned a lot of coping skills, but it's a real balancing act. If I let someone in and they betray me, I could end up in the ER with blood running down my arms from slashing my wrists. It's happened before. I do not want it to happen again. 

I've had love to give in the past. I give it only to a select few and with a lot of reservations. Some people think this means that I'm cold and standoffish. However, I've found that people who demand love tend to be people that will only misuse it.

I didn't say this in my comment on the post, but, for real, other people with mood disorders have been some of the most narrow-minded and least understanding. When they have said that I need to have my doctor adjust my meds if I mention going through a severe depression, and I respond that I can't take the meds because they make me manic and psychotic, these people will suddenly become cold and judgmental. "Well, if you're that depressed, you need to be on meds." 

Well, if you're that much of an asshole, you need to fuck off.

I wish I had known then what I know now. Some people are miserable fuckers who want to rub their miserable fuckery all over others. I never said you were a bad person for taking meds, you defensive douche canoe. Why am I a bad person for opting not to take them when they send me straight off the rails?


Image copyright Open Clipart Vectors
Ornery and Neurodivergent

Family Tombstone


a memorial
a place to sit and reflect
on past memories
my father's name is there now
my mother's will be one day

~cie~

This time, I was a disobedient jerk-face on purpose. I was inspired to write this entire Tanka rather than a Tan Renga. You are still welcome to throw overripe produce at me. 



Dad
31 May 1936 - 28 November 2010

Carpe Diem New Beginnings: Candlelight


shall I make a toast
by candlelight some evening
to the fairy friends

~cie~



Perhaps Grover and Clem's chums Nervous Ned and Darlin' Dolly could serenade the fairies.

Carpe Diem New Beginnings: Snowdrops


you always told me
whenever I saw snowdrops
it means you are near
are you here with me again
or is this wishful thinking?

~cie~


Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation: Troiku Hineri: At Dawn

Image by Johannes Plenio from Pixabay
These round hay bales are a common sight where I live

I
at dawn
I wash my feet with dew
the longest day

at dawn
the sun comes through the window
too bright to look at

I wash my feet with dew
perhaps I am still dreaming
I walk to the yard

the longest day
the too-warm sun of summer
I retreat indoors

II
at dawn
the sun comes through the window
too bright to look at

at dawn
much of the world awakens
though some hide away

the sun comes through the window
too bright to remain asleep
burning fiery orb

too bright to look at
I attempt to ignore it
I begin my day

III
I wash my feet with dew
perhaps I am still dreaming
I walk to the yard

I wash my feet with dew
before the sun burns it off
on grass blades still damp

perhaps I am still dreaming
I would be afraid to walk
unshod on this ground

I walk to the yard
trying to plan the future
what will I grow here?

IV
the longest day
the too-warm sun of summer
I retreat indoors

the longest day
I have many things to do
always stay busy

the too-warm sun of summer
makes me hide inside the house
sun scorching the earth

I retreat indoors
maybe when the evening falls
venture out again

~cie~







Visit the Artist


Ghost town Grover and Cactus Clem have a poem they want to share too.

A cactus man like Cactus Clem
Thinks the heat just can't be beat
He don't mind when it gets toasty
He even walks around in bare feet

A ghost like Ghost Town Grover
Tends to prefer the shade
He likes to sit underneath the old tree
Just sippin' lemonade


Visit the Ornery Poetry Blog

notes
The original Haiku for the Troiku Army was written by © Yozakura (1640-1716).

at dawn
I wash my feet with dew
the longest day

Wordy Thursday: On Writing by Stephen King



Genre:
Nonfiction, Autobiography, Instructional, Writing

Rating:
Five out of Five Stars

The following is a duplicate of my review on Goodreads for this book.

If readers purchase the book through the above preview link, I will earn a small commission from Amazon.

I have been a fan of Stephen King for many years. I read this book when it first came out and enjoyed reading it again. Of course, I am very glad that he survived his terrible accident and is now doing better.

I would not thrive writing the way Mr. King recommends: by shutting myself in a room for two hours with everything tuned out. I would start to feel as if I was in a dungeon fairly quickly. I am based in my living room where I can look out the window. I don't know if he would like my writing. I enjoy some of the elements that he recommends eliminating. However, I did learn two things from him a long time ago: mind the adverbs, and watch out for overly long and descriptive sentences.

I am glad to have this book in my library again.


1. Stephen King says, “You can read anywhere, almost, but when it comes to writing, library carrels, park benches, and rented flats should be courts of last resort."
I reckon you've gotta write where you've gotta write. However, I doubt I'd get much writing done on a park bench. Probably nothing more than a bit of note-taking would transpire there.

QUESTIONS: Where do you like to write? Have you written in the places King says should be last resorts and found them to work better for you?
I usually write in the living room with my butt parked on the dilapidated couch that doubles as my bed. I don't write much of anywhere else at this juncture.

2. QUESTION: King states that story comes first, never theme. I disagree. Do you think a theme only develops after the story has come together or can a good story be developed from a theme?
I usually don't think much about the theme beyond it planting a seed in my disheveled brain. I probably have a theme in mind when I start.

3. QUESTIONS: What "tools" do you find most indispensable when you write? Are there any you would add to King's toolbox (which includes grammar, vocabulary, elements of style and form, character development, descriptions, dialogue, tools for revision help)?
Coffee.

4. QUESTIONS: King believes that stories are "found things, like fossils in the ground." Let’s discuss King's extended metaphor of "writing as excavation." Do you agree with this theory? How would you describe writing if different from his point-of-view?
Sometimes my story ideas come sailing through the air and smack me on the head.

5. QUESTIONS: Was this your first time reading a book by Stephen King or were you a fan before? Either way, what did you think of his book On Writing?
I've been a big fan since I was about fourteen years old. Stephen King is one of those people that I'd love to meet except for the fact that he'd probably think I was the biggest loser to ever be plopped down on this lousy planet, so I imagine I'd slink off into the shadows if the opportunity to meet him ever arose.

I think that On Writing has many excellent suggestions. Not all of them work for me.



Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors





Carpe Diem Tan Renga Wednesday: Such a Cold Night

Image by Robson Machado from Pixabay

lying down
with quilts over the head
such a cold night
I spent many nights like this
in a trailer with no heat

~cie~


notes
The Hokku stanza was written by Matsuo Basho (1644 - 1694). The Ageku stanza was written by me. It is autobiographical.

Tackle It Tuesday on Wednesday With the Ornery Old Lady: Old School Cool Whip Pineapple Pie

Image by Bruno Marques Bru from Pixabay

Back in 1995, when I was ten years old...

Okay, it was 1975. But the rest of the story is true.

When I was ten years old, I flew on an airplane for the very first time, from Denver to New York. Flying was fun in 1975. Everyone was very nice. My six-year-old brother and I thought the little bags of peanuts were fun, and even the awful airline food was wonderful to us. I got to listen to music on the headset. I thought it was just the most amazing time.

When we got to New York, we visited the relatives who had come to see us over the years. At one point, we went up to Amsterdam, which is where my father's maternal relatives came from. My great-uncle was an undertaker. When people hear the word "undertaker," they usually think of someone like this:

The late character actor Angus Scrimm played The Tall Man in the Phantasm movies

My great-uncle did not fit the image of the stereotypical undertaker. He was a very benevolent man who smiled a lot. He became a mortician because it was a necessary service.

My father's maternal family owned the building containing the mortuary and the chapel. My great-grandmother, who hardly spoke any English, and two of my great-aunts lived on the upper floors of the building. Another great-aunt lived in a house next door. These folks are long gone now, but at that moment they were very much alive, and the world seemed very much alive. 

My great-grandmother was an excellent cook, and everything she made was wonderful, especially the latkes. My great-aunt Isabelle wasn't as skilled in the kitchen, but she did a passable job. And she made the wondrous pineapple pie. I don't remember what else she made when we had our afternoon lunch in her apartment, but I certainly remember the pineapple pie. I could well have eaten the whole thing! 

Those days spent with my Lithuanian relatives are long gone. Latkes may be a ubiquitous if delicious favorite among Eastern European people, but I'm pretty sure pineapple pie is not a traditional Lithuanian dish. Nonetheless, it was a fast favorite among the group of Lithuanian-Americans gathered on that afternoon forty-five years ago, and my Great-Aunt Isabelle was very smart to have made it because it couldn't be easier.

I found the recipe for Pineapple Dream Dessert at Amanda's Cookin'. This is the Amazing Pineapple Pie recipe, only in a square pan. I didn't have any graham crackers or graham cracker crumbs, but I did have a couple of pre-made graham cracker pie crusts, so the Pineapple Dream Dessert went back to being a pie.

Here is what you need.

If you are going to follow Amanda's directions and make a square dessert in a 9 x 9 pan, you will need 2 1/2 cups of graham cracker crumbs and 1/2 cup of butter to make the crust. If you are going to use a pie shell, you can omit those.

For the filling, you will need to soften 1/2 cup of butter and 4 ounces of cream cheese. 

Combine the softened cream cheese and butter until smooth. I finally broke out my Hamilton Beach stand mixer and used it for the mixing tasks. Once the cream cheese and butter are blended, incorporate 2 cups of powdered sugar one cup at a time. Beat until smooth. Blend in one tablespoon of drained, crushed pineapple from a 20-ounce can.

Spread the cream cheese mixture onto the crust.

Mix together 8 ounces of Cool Whip with the rest of the crushed pineapple.

Put the Cool Whip and pineapple mixture on top of the cream cheese mixture.

Refrigerate for 4 hours before serving.

Raise a glass or cup of whatever you like to drink with pie and say a toast to the memory of a relative, or you can say a toast to my Great-Aunt Isabelle if you can't think of a relative that you'd like to toast.

Bone Appetit!
Cie the Ornery Old Lady



Visit the Artist

Ghost Town Grover Sez:
"I know y'all said that pie was easy to make, Ornery, but it shore does taste fancy!"


Cactus Clem Sez:
"Ornery, y'all really need to git some more of that pineapple juice. That right there is the best part of the pineapple!"

The General Store


Come and Get It: MFRW Book Hooks 22 January 2020 + Tidbit Tuesday



The story is free from January 21 thru January 25, 2020. Click the preview link to check it out! After the 25th, the price returns to 99 cents.


Blurb:
Geeky Gandy Stafford's lifelong fantasy comes true when he meets the otherworldly Dorma and Desyra. These last remnants of a botched extraterrestrial invasion discover that they require a great deal of energy to maintain their human forms.

The easiest way to obtain essential power?

Sex, and lots of it.

Snippet:
Gandy watched as sparks blipped in the forms of the two jelly-like aliens. He realized they must be communicating with each other. Suddenly, the pair extended pseudopods from their gelatinous forms and reached into the brush, dragging the terrified groundskeeper to them.

“No, please, please, don’t eat me!” Gandy begged. “I won’t tell anyone what I saw, I swear!”

The aliens pressed their pseudopods to Gandy’s temples. He could suddenly understand their thoughts.

“Fear not, Terran. We have no intention of consuming you.”




Carpe Diem New Beginnings: First Cry

Image by DatWuschel from Pixabay

first cry of the heart
the wild anticipation
drowning in desire
years ahead lead to regret
saltwater overflowing

~cie~


notes
I have been working on Fetch (Team Netherworld's main WIP) and was inspired to create a Fetch story poem in the voice of Princess Ondina.

Boycott Aaron Carter: Art Thief and Asshole

So, dumpster fire and talentless hack Aaron Carter is ripping off the work of an actual artist to promote his shitty merchandise.



Here is the location of the tweet in case you’d like to respond to Aaron’s entitled temper tantrum. https://t.co/MG78rgCwZr

Here is the article on Forbes where I first learned of this incident. It includes a picture of Jonas’ art.

I added the following sentiment to my retweet of Aaron’s cosmically shitty response to Jonas Jodicke’s classy request that Aaron stop using his art without his permission.

It's probably too much to ask for @aaroncarter to not behave like a complete trash fire for once in his arrogant, entitled life. Aaron is ripping off @JoJoesArt because he doesn't have an original bone in his entire body. Don't buy his overpriced merch, he doesn't deserve a cent.

I wouldn’t wipe my ass with Aaron’s overpriced clothes. Please share this so everyone knows what a colossal douchebag Aaron the Art Thief is.

Carpe Diem New Beginnings: First Leaf Falling

Click to enlarge
Background image copyright Matthias Muhler
Text art by cie
Made with Pixlr


Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation: Contentious Eggplant


troublesome eggplant
hard to sketch and hard to grow
pumpkins are not so

~cie~


notes
So, the challenge was to rewrite a Haiku by Shiki using the Shasei style and then turn it into a Tanka. Please click the banner to learn more. If I try to explain, it will only end up becoming convoluted.

I am not sure I succeeded at Shasaei-ing, but I did learn that Shiki was a rebel, and this I succeed at. After re-imagining his Haiku about eggplant and pumpkins, I thought that adding the Ageku stanza would overshadow the perfect brevity (and sharp snarkitude) of the resulting Senryu, so I am leaving it Ageku-less.

Here is the Eggplant Haiku by Shiki.

Sketching from life —
eggplants are harder to do
than pumpkins

© Masaoka Shiki (Tr. Burton Watson)

Come as you Are Party: The Harms of Organized Religion


heringstuff
 youknowyoureanexchristianwhen

“I wonder if this is what binds many of us who de-converted, across denominations, across varying beliefs; what it is that allows us to easily understand each other’s experiences — we were given an understanding of the ourselves that said that we did not belong to ourselves, that to live rightly we should relinquish any sense of our autonomy, any idea that we could judge our own beliefs for ourselves. We sacrificed our internal understanding for an external belief system on the sole grounds that we were told that this was the truth of existence. Which means that the very act of de-converting is done with an understanding that we are seen as betrayers, as committing the ultimate rebellion: a rebellion against God himself. A rebellion against truth, reality, reason, morality, and goodness.”
— When You’re Taught Autonomy is a Lie, on somaticstrength (via speakingwhentheworldsleeps)
 exchristianheart
The entire article is worth reading.
 fierceawakening
Reblogging again to quote:
While the modern world celebrates and elevates autonomy, biblical Christianity points to individualism as the seat of all human evil.

I don’t know if people outside of controlling religious environments realize that this was a foundational message for many of us. That when we talk about the messages our faith gave us, we’re not just talking about things some fellow Christian told us, but rather the very beliefs that we were given — the things we were told was the absolute truth about ourselves, and about the world.

I was taught that I did not belong to myself. I belonged to God, and I should give up any sense that I had autonomy, or a right to my own opinions or perspective. “The world” was sinful because it believed in such concepts as “self identity” as “personal rights” as “the ability to determine what works for you based on yourself and your own experiences.”
This is EXACTLY why I left, not only religious communities but also… I don’t want to say “radical feminist” circles, but circles influenced enough by them to assert that what matters is your social group (MAN vs WOMAN) and not yourself, and used “choice feminist” as an insult.

I do want choices.
Because I belong to ME.
 callioscope
radical feminism criticizes our society for forcing men and women into different heirarchical roles, with women at the bottom. This doesn’t mean feminists are trying to take your choice away and tell you the only thing you can care about is whether you’re a man or a woman.
It’s good to be able to distinguish a movement’s critiques of the current state of things from the goal the movement is working toward. (similar to “but how can you be against racism if you keep claiming being black makes someone oppressed??” The answer is “to fight for a better situation you have to be able to explain what’s wrong with the current situation”)
 shed1nja
Radical feminism and Atheism go hand in hand for me. Radical feminists also recognize the dangers of eschewing individualism. They’re gender critical because, like religion, gender has been used as a groupthink brainwashing tool, to segregate society for no good reason. “Female brains only do this, male brains only do this,” as if you can assume that about billions of people planetwide.
Radfems disagree with “choice feminism” not because we think we can control every woman’s choices. That’s not the goal. There is just such a thing as too much individualism. Power in this world is set up to benefit the few and screw the many, and if you’re one of the many, the unfair systems in place to keep the powerful powerful affect you, whether you want to believe it or not.
Sex-based oppression still exists, and unfortunately, most women can’t make decisions in this world without living their lives around that.
 slysfreespeechspace
I am an agnostic who was raised Catholic and left the church when I was eighteen. I got involved with New Age thinking for many years and discovered that New Agers and many people who call themselves Pagan are just as rigid and judgmental as Christians. Now I keep my spiritual beliefs pretty close to the chest and see organized religion as far more harmful than helpful.

Weekend Writing Warriors 19 January 2020 (PA, RO, SF)



Diane dried her dark eyes and put on her glasses. She made her way to the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove.

“I’d another one of those dreams, Dain.”

“The ones frae the future?”

“Cer. I’m an Arab girl, adopted by a dreadful churl of a man and his weak wife. I’ve two brothers, wee twins, six years younger than me. Their names are Gerry and Paul.”

“Di, do ye not suppose ye might be projecting yer emotions over Gerry’s troubles into yer dreams, Love? And, after all, you yerself were adopted.”

~Cie for Naughty Netherworld Press~

This snippet comes from Team Netherworld's current WIP, The Ballad of Gerry Clifford. It is the first book in the "Fetch" series and is part of The Yadira Chronicles.

Diane Clifford Savage is Gerry Clifford's elder sister by fourteen years. Dain Savage is her husband. Dain and Diane have been married for 48 years.




Blow Your Stack Saturday: Borderline Personality Disorder and Misogyny


heringstuff
 tervbangs
love how bpd is the new trendy hysteria diagnosis so instead of teaching traumatized young women how to heal themselves, we slap on a relatively meaningless diagnosis until they fully internalize that their issues (i.e. not responding to trauma appropriately in a quiet, subdued, “female” way) are  ingrained flaws they can absolutely never overcome 
 intothelesbiverse
It’s an actual mental illness tho
 tervbangs
it’s a response to trauma. i think it’s more helpful to look at it through that angle (as ptsd or c-ptsd) because healing from that trauma is at the forefront of treatment, as opposed to a bpd diagnosis where a personality disorder is by definition inflexible and unchanging and the focus of treatment is to just treat the side-effects or harmful behavior patterns
 feministvenus
As someone who is studying and working in the field of mental health, I have a few thoughts about this.
First, the DSM-5 is not gospel. Criteria is always changing and some mental illnesses have been removed completely. All a diagnostic label does is describe a set of symptoms.
An overwhelming majority of people diagnosed with BPD are women. As @tervbangs mentioned, many of them have suffered trauma (unfortunately, child sex abuse is a common history among people diagnosed with BPD). Men and women respond to trauma differently. If a man experiences trauma, his set of symptoms is often more in line with a PTSD diagnoses and he is more likely to receive treatment for his trauma. However, since women respond to trauma differently, this trauma is often missed completely and they are diagnosed with BPD instead.
BPD diagnoses often don’t help women. Again I’m echoing @tervbangs, but people can recover from trauma with treatment, but personality disorders are seen as a life-sentence and untreatable. There is an enormous amount of stigma surrounding BPD and many mental health professionals avoid women diagnosed with BPD entirely. Slapping a woman with a BPD diagnoses often results in a game of “hot potato” where the client is bounced from professional to professional. Many people in the field believe that a) women with BPD can’t be helped or b) they’re manipulative, vindictive individuals and are some how responsible for their symptoms.
With proper treatment of trauma, many women initially diagnosed with BPD will no longer meet the criteria. However, the diagnostic label will follow them for the rest of their lives even when it doesn’t apply anymore.
I have had the pleasure of working under counsellors who argue that the BPD diagnoses should be eliminated entirely and instead a sub-category of PTSD should be instated. I 100% agree and believe this would lead to a better outcome for women living with trauma.
 ragingvulvasaur
Someone give me a real scientific study on the links between the trauma of growing up female, the inherent sexism of psychiatry, and the use of BPD Dxs against women!!!!!! It absolutely is sexism against traumatized women and girls. How dare we be emotional, and lash out in response to trauma instesd of being good quiet girls? Boys with the same “symptoms” arent Dxd with a personality disorder. Theyre shrugged off because boys are supposed to lash out, be moody, and fuck everyone in sight.
 irate-badfem-harpy
They’ll tell you reassuringly “bpd is the only personality disorder that you aren’t born with” but can’t put together that maybe it’s because we’ve been traumatized that we act the way we do, that maybe our self destructive behavior is a result of being made powerless, that our impulsivity is a result of being conditioned to expect small erratic bursts of chaos and pain for seemingly no reason at all, that we don’t have a definite sense of self because we haven’t been able to be anything but surviving for a decade or more, that we can’t visualize a future because we were too busy just trying to visualize the day when you escape.
I don’t yet know how to properly articulate or substantiate this but I’m firmly of the opinion that men recover from PTSD more quickly than women because their traumas are different. They drive too fast down main street because they’re still driving like a pipe bomb is gna flip their car if they dawdle for even a second; a thunderclap sends them rolling off their bed and scrambling for their body armor at three in the morning. But they can get past that. They learn that they’re no longer in danger.
What do women learn, when we come forward about our trauma?
“Are you sure it was…”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“You’re overreacting”
“I know him he wouldn’t do that”
“What did you say that made him so angry”
“No it didn’t”
“You’re lying”
“You must be imagining it”
“You’re trying to ruin his life”
“Attention whore”
We learn we can’t trust grown-ups. There are no good ones who will help us. We learn no one wants to help us. So we must deserve it then. So we just survive because if we kill ourselves we might fail and then we’ll get in even more trouble. So we endure. Kind of. And if we break, then we must have deserved that too.
 heringstuff
It’s totally the modern hysteria, which doesn’t mean that there aren’t people who really suffer from it.
Personal experience/rant…
 slysfreespeechspace
I have type 2 bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and ADD. Having a diagnosis helped me find ways to cope with the manifestations of these conditions, but health care professionals tend to be unwilling to research the why behind them. It’s easier to try and medicate a patient into a semblance of normalcy.
I feel like my borderline personality disorder manifested from feeling like I was unheard and unloved in my childhood. At this point in my life, I tend to only form very superficial relationships with people for fear that they will abandon me and I tend not to trust people’s motivations.
I agree with feministvenus that the BPD diagnosis should be eradicated and BPD should instead be made a subtype of PTSD because that's what it is.
Making BPD a subtype of PTSD would also remove it from the "personality disorder" stigma. There are people who claim that BPD is "the little sister of antisocial personality disorder," which it isn't. People with BPD generally know that something's wrong with their behaviors. People with antisocial personality disorder do not.

Closing Comments on This Blog

At this point, this blog is only a place for sharing links, and the only comments I've been getting are comments like the following fro...