Tw Truama - Blog Posts
I wish I could just properly articulate how much love is a fear for BlackArachnia (tf:s). (CW : Trauma and bad feels)
Seriously, the only song I can use to describe her fear is litterally a song about kidnapping. (“Tag, Your It” - Melanie Martinez)
Finding out she was left for dead by the love of her life was like a gut-wrenching, tearing out of any feelings she ever had. She had been abandoned, the only bot she ever loved, left her for spider-food. How could anyone be that cruel? Did he even care? Shouldn’t he have come back for her, even if it was years later? No. He never did. She became BlackArachnia 17,573 years after her shell had been killed.
In Beasts On Earth!!, she tried every form of method to keep SilverBolt away, to show see never needed such weak and painful feelings, she didn’t need to be betrayed so painfully again. She even ensured he would die from the foraging of killer spiders she planted in his chest, and even then, after he miraculously survived, he took care of the one left he insisted on keeping, and still said he loved her.
Just like Optimus. He didn’t give up on her. Every fight, every hurtful word, every near-death issue. He wanted to be with her.
How is this possible?
Her spark couldn’t calm down in her hardend chassis. Her limbs were not responding to any thought from her processor. Everything was closing in yet falling apart all at the same time. Her vision was darkening and she felt sick from the deepest parts of her spark. It was all too much for her. Why did she have to feel this way? All these stupid emotions and stupid feeling and stupid fragging maximals that had to be so perfect and great and innocent.
"Do you even know what that does to me, Orion? To constantly be met with understanding and patience and…and you?" Her voice cracks slightly, her anger beginning to fray at the edges, revealing the vulnerability beneath. "It's infuriating."
"…Why are you so damned understanding?!" Elita bursts out, her optics flashing with helpless frustration. "Everytime I yell, every time I push, you just…Absorb it!" She slams her hand against the wall, leaving an impression. "It's maddening!"
"It makes me angry! It makes me so angry that I can't even be mad at you properly!" She pauses, her optics flickering rapidly. "You make it impossible to dislike you! You're the most irritatingly decent mech I've ever encountered!"
"…You think I push everyone away because I want to?" Her voice drops dangerously low, a dangerous glint in her optics. "Maybe I just can't stand most mechs. Ever consider that?" She snaps, but there's a hint of vulnerability she can't quite disguise.
"…Why are you still being decent about this?! I'm being a total jerk! Why aren't you yelling?!" Her arms cross tightly over her chest. "I thought you would finally tell me to…To shut up or leave or something!" She finishes in a frustrated shout, her voice echoing off the walls. "But no, you just have to be…You!" She gestures at him in exasperation. "Always so calm and understanding and…Ugh!"
“…I don’t have a sparkling,” she said again, as if trying to convince herself none of this was real. “I don’t love.”
“I can’t believe they became leaders of the factions…Despite what awful cowards they are…” BlackArachnia muttered in tears, her voice just barely heard over the rustling of the tree.
“…That wrech doesn’t deserve the fame he has! He abandoned me, like everyone else always does!” BlackArachnia hissed back at him, her claws scratching harshly at the bark, causing ScatterSpot to cling to SilverBolt’s leg.
“You don’t care! You never could! Just abandon me as well let me crawl back home!” BlackArachnia snarled back, continuing to scratch at the tree.
“…I’m good on my own. I’m strong, indipendant, I don’t need stupid love to make it work! I’m better off on my own! Why can’t you see that?!”
*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of harassment, panic attacks, PTSD symptoms, anxiety, threats of physical violence. Mentions of trauma, abuse, bipolar depression, PTSD, anxiety, coping, self deprecating thoughts, dark humor.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023
12:06pm
This is the letter that I wrote to my older (half) sister, before the texts in Part 1 the next day.
Here’s what I said to her:
“Hey Angel… I think it’s time we talk about the distance that we both have experiencing. Honestly, I don’t even know how the distance started, but it’s something that I fell into and followed. I would like to talk when you’re ready because it’s necessary that we do. That we talk about everything for as long as we both need, and that we come into this conversation ready and willing to hear each other out. Just let me know.”
“I was in such a dark place when this all started. I think after looking back on it, that I never took the time to properly explain what happened, what’s been happening…
As you know, I’ve had such an extensive amount of trauma, especially from my supposed father-figures. It was September… I was on a shuttle, trying to get to my rehearsal for dance on a Sunday afternoon. I stepped onto the shuttle, wearing my headphones, listening to the same playlist that I do before I dance. It’s my… ritual, the thing that grounds me, calms me, but also, psyches me up to go. And, that’s the paradoxical thing about having anxiety as well as bipolar depression; you have to calm yourself down in order to build yourself up to feel excited.
In that process, I missed the driver telling everyone to not get on if they were not going to the next stop, which would unfold in our confrontation.
I got on the bus, and when we arrived at the next stop, I didn’t get off the bus, which was odd, but not too unusual… until I noticed the yelling. I took out my earbuds to hear the driver yelling, and it took me a second to realize that he was yelling at me. He was trying to force me off the bus because I apparently wasn’t supposed to be on otherwise.
I was confused, and shocked, and frightened, but I found the courage to ask why. I didn’t know at the time that he had said that he would swing back around to get the people going to main campus. I got frustrated with how he was acting, because we would get there eventually ‘cause the route is continuous, as all bus routes are, but he kept getting more aggressive as he was trying to force me off. His reasoning was, “because he said so”, instead of any semblance of reason. It reached the point where other students were getting on to return home, and that spurred him to park the bus, say that he wasn’t moving until I got off, and threatened to call the police or physically removing me himself. I was panicked, so I did what my mind told me to do in the moment. I made my way off, asked for his name, which was like pulling teeth, and tried to call the office to make a complaint. He drove away, I was officially late to rehearsal, and then, I realized that I had no idea where I was.
My anxiety was building exponentially as I called the transportation office 3 times with no response before I realized there wasn’t going to be, because they are closed on the weekends. I then tried calling all my friends, with cars, to see if they could pick me up to no avail. Then, I had my first panic attack on the curb of a parking lot in an unfamiliar place, while people walked by with odd stares and no concern for me. Then, I tried calling all and any family I could, my mom, you, Camille, and Auntie Roz and Auntie Julie, but no one answered.
Cue my second panic attack.
A friend called me back, I explained the situation, but they couldn’t come get me. So, I made the decision to call an Uber with the last $11 I had. On the drive, my mom called to see what was going on. She responded to the story by saying “Get over it”. Not understanding how triggering it was for me, or caring for how upset or shaken I was. I got out of the Uber, had my third panic attack in 40 minutes, and after, I noticed the time.
Rehearsal was over, and I cried.
I called my professor to apologize and after I explained what happened, he Venmo’d me for the Uber, but that’s where the resolution of the incident stopped. I did end up filing a complaint, and they took my side, but didn’t act on any of the solutions I asked for. After that, well, I spiraled.
Part 1 -- Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of parental abuse and physical abuse. Descriptions of threats, violence, verbal abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse. Mentions of Bipolar Depression, anxiety, PTSD, self-deprecating thoughts, self-esteem issues, people pleasing, rage. Saturday, Jan. 28th, 2023
2:16pm
My dad texted me early in the morning,
-This is my response to very bluntly and directly tell him off
and here’s what I said to him:
To Dad,
“Listen. I did disrespect you and I did curse at you. I’ll admit it, and I’m taking accountability for that. I don’t like being upset and I certainly don’t like yelling and cursing. However, what I did that day was lesser than what you deserved, you deserved worse. Now, I’m taking the time out of my day to respond to take another chance for you to take this opportunity to hear what I am saying and make a change. But, to be honest, my hopes and expectations for you aren’t high.
First, I want you to understand that you will always be my dad and I will always love you. I care about you deeply, but it will have to be at a distance. Your behavior in how you treat Angel and I is deplorable and disgusting. You are selfish and narcissistic. You are controlling and manipulative. And, you don’t have proper self-reflection skills or any empathy for your kids. I’m sick of it, and I don’t have the tolerance for your behavior anymore.
Time after time, you and I have had conversations, where you never ask me what is going on in my life in full. Every single conversation consisted of talking about yourself, or offering advice that had no relevance to anything that was happening for me. You constantly talk about how much you want to be a part of my life and how you wanted a “seat at my advisors’ table”, but you don’t deserve to because you never showed any real care or interest or attention to me and my life. This “highlights” thing you have is the only thing you care about when it comes to Angel and I, but that’s now what being a father is about. Being a good PARENT (not just being a father) is about raising your child to be their own individual, while you as the parent, help them along the way. It’s not just giving me money, “slapping rocks”, working out, and “highlights”. You should be there to listen to your kids, to tend to them, to be there when they fall, and to correct them when they go wrong. You do none of these things. The year that I was starting college, I had to continuously remind you of what my majors were because: you 1) never asked what they were, and 2) never listened and remembered. And that’s the SMALLEST example of how you treat me that I could think of. You have threatened to kill me, called me embarrassing, tried to tell me that I’m not man enough, and god forbid, try to manipulate me to turn into you.
You never want to hear when I’m struggling or in a dark period, yet you think that you should be an “advisor” for me. What do you plan to advise me about then? You have never ever been there for me when I’m going through a hard time, but you think I should lean on you for what? Support? No, for money, right? Because that’s what you talk about all the time.
I want you to sit and think about what you ACTUALLY know about me and my life because I guarantee that it’s not as much as I know about you, and what you SHOULD know about me. I feel like a prop for you to make yourself feel and look better. Either that, or you’re living through me vicariously with all the “highlights” you receive from me. And you expect me to not be hurt by all of that and much more from you?
Did you know I have Bipolar Disorder? Did you know I took a break from college? Did you know I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from you and every other excuse for a father figure in my life? I bet you didn’t.
I CAN”T HANDLE YOU BEING IN MY LIFE BECAUSE YOU. ARE. TOXIC. When I’m not feeling like you’re “molding me into your image” (which is something you have said out your mouth to me, by the way), you’re sucking all of my energy by me just trying to have a relationship with you. All these years, I’ve tried to adapt and change myself and “just deal” with you because anything with you is better than nothing. But, I realized after EVERY falling out we’ve had, you never sat down and thought about what YOU DID to ME. I was the only one trying to change and make things work, while you just waited for me to come crawling back to Daddy. I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS. AND, I don’t owe you for anything that you have done for me, you’re a parent. You signed up for this. So, going forward, I think you should go to therapy. I think you need professional guidance to realize how you treat people, especially your family. And, until that happens and you experience change, you and I will continue to not have a relationship. I love you to the moon and back, always will, but I will no longer tolerate your vile treatment of me. I am not just “your offspring”, I’m my own individual. Please, do me the favor of not contacting me again until you’ve grown.”
