Repression - Tumblr Posts

🫵🏾How Are You Repressed?🙈

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Pile 1: Perfectionism! The thief of progress and enjoying your work. You believe you shouldn't rest. You really can't see or believe that every small step counts when you are looking at, for all intents and purposes, a mountain. Take a breath. Try not to think of the end goal. Do the thing because it needs to be done, not because it is one step out of a thousand. The goal should be to move forward.

Song: Brave Shine (Aimer) Japanese or English version. You should check out the AmaLee one for the English version

Pile 2: You are repressing positive or non stressing emotions following stressful events. It makes sense right? To be stressed about a stressful event. But worrying and being dramatic doesn't actually solve the problem. Feel what you need to, but don't sit there. Try being optimistic while moving through your emotions. Rest. You must be exhausted.

Song: This Is Your life (Switchfoot)

Pile 3: You are repressing your true self. There is a vicious cycle of being stuck and not fully accepting that you are the one who determines who you are and what is right for you. And what isn't. Don't be scared to search out like minded people or people who will support you wholeheartedly. You can keep some of your restraint and do one thing at a time, but open up.

Song: Home (Daughtry)

wow look at all of this repressed stuff in my brain!! there's like a whole person in here!!! i gotta dig this up and start using it ok how do i express these things like other people do

...................................uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

i'm pretty sure that both my struggle to express myself and the fact that all of this stuff is repressed to begin with stem from the same issue, which is one of complete alienation

it's a little hard to explain, so strap in...

i have a very small and tight-knit circle of interests, mostly guided by one Special Interest:

✨ Video Games ✨

and surprise surprise, most people in my life are not into those things. nobody's ever bullied me for it, or anything, but nobody knew how to support it either.

i was homeschooled so i didn't get to hang out with other kids my age very much. most of them were into other things like sports, and i had no connection there. besides, they already had friends from school. once i turned ten i stopped trying to make friends myself.

the few friends i had who *were* into video games were either church friends or family friends, and lived far enough away that we had to drive there. which would happen when my parents wanted to meet up with theirs, not when i did.

so i got to see them like once a month, maybe.

that means most of my time was spent with adults… who have better things to do than listen to some kid babble about nonsense they don't understand, like games.

i actually used to autism spout, if you can believe that. most of it was met with some variant of "that's nice, dear"

so i learned to just… accept that nothing i had to say was important. that everyone else had more important things to talk about. that i was supposed to sit in my corner and wait for someone to reach out to me first out of pity. that i would be left out most of the time.

it seems silly for that to happen over video games, but remember: i have autism, and that's my special interest. it's all i have to express myself with. i didn't learn much else!

i did figure out how to express myself creatively, but honestly... that just added to the loneliness.

and trust me, i know people are allowed to have other interests and that sometimes i should just stop and listen.

in fact i would usually say i'm proud of my listening and observation skills,

except i am now 25 and still feel like i haven't really had my turn to speak?

truthfully, as an adult, i've had a few chances. but at this point it's not even alienation anymore, it's repression from being made to feel Unimportant. every chance i've had to lead the conversation, or come up with a topic… i don't say it. because who cares other than me?

and when someone else is already talking about other things, i just go into Listening Mode, because i have nothing to contribute. unsurprisingly, that is still most of the time. most other people have diverse interests, or they talk about other people that i don't know, etc.

so i sit there with nothing to say. while they have everything to say. because they know how to express themselves, and i never got the chance to figure out.

and this happens every time.

i can be at the same table as ten people who i call close friends and still feel completely alone, simply because they are all chatting about or doing something that i have nothing to contribute to. (that's not an exaggeration. this has happened. several times.)

and it's not just talking! i can be with a friend, who invited me there, playing video games together, and still feel like i am wasting their time that they could be spending doing more important or fulfilling things that they would probably like better!!

i don't get it!!!

the most i've ever gotten to express myself through my interests without feeling alienated for it… is here. social media. and y'all know this isn't the healthiest way for me to go about it.

but at least it's better than those empty pity interactions. ("so how's work going?")

anyway i realize i've focused a lot on "talking" and "video games" in this post but please know that the general sense of alienation and chronic loneliness is pervasive and affects a lot more than just those things. this is just the most direct way that i know to illustrate it

and even then, there's a whole lot more that i've repressed for so long. this is just the one that i'm the most familiar with, as i dig down into this huge mess of other things that i had no idea existed

it's a lot. there's so much. it's gonna take time to work through it all.

The roman catholic church suppressed and repressed ancient ways

that last phone call scene with bill and mike... what was all that about? it's like [zooms in on bill's ringless finger][just wanted to check up on you][light teasing][there's more we want to remember than forget, i like that one][tender smile, soft voice][go get 'em mikey][meaningful pause] [i love you]

how to draw a horse

rhetorical questions will continue until morale improves.

“Finally, in a low whisper, he said, ‘I think I might be a terrible person.’ For a split second I believed him — I thought he was about to confess a crime, maybe a murder. Then I realized that we all think we might be terrible people. But we only reveal this before asking someone to love us. It is a kind of undressing.”

— Miranda July, The First Bad Man

“after all the terrible things I do how amazing it is to find forgiveness and love not even forgiveness since what is done is done and forgiveness isn’t love and love is love nothing can ever go wrong”

— Frank O’Hara, from “Poem [light clarity avocado salad in the morning]”

“How good it is to love live things, even when what they’ve done is terrible” — Ada Limón, from “The Long Ride”

repression, and the guilt it causes when you're not with me - an annie x reader drabble

Feelings are easily ignored one would think, especially if the aggravator is locked away in a stone made of clear crystal. When you can see her but not touch her, talk to her but get no reply, overthinking sets in and guilt surrounding your relationship with Annie is embedded to to bone.

The stone floors all look the same. From room to room, the bumps and lines are all in the exact same place. Dents and crevasses paint a marble of patterns on the walls, almost identical to the room next to it, and the one opposite. Even if we move into a different room, they all look the same. The beaten, worn stone turns more battered the more you’re in the room. Like your mere presence is enough to make stone regret and cave into itself. Like your mere presence causes confident stone to pull away and retreat into dirt.

The guard that frequents this room pays attention to more than just her stone. She hears, she listens. Every word spoken is captured by the guard’s ear. She knows everything, she sees it too. Their watchful eyes burn into your back when you visit her. You can’t say more than simple ‘hellos’ and ‘I’ve been good’. Their sorrow glares and the glances full of regret and shame. Every movement shows what you really are. Every shift, every stance - it gives you away. Shows your true self to them and they can’t help but look away, filled with disgust. They ought to have you removed from her care.

All of the lingering feelings. All of the thoughts about her that never leave no matter how much you focus on other things. It all leads back to her. Your stupid Annie. So, you vowed to leave them in this room. You vowed to not think about her unless you were with her. You vowed to not smell her hair, to hear her laugh, to say her name. Unless you were with her.

Her lifeless expression seen under the stone never wavered. Her face never moved, not an inch. Her shoulders tense and her legs stiff. For even she knows what you are. You never hid it with her. Despite her mundane choice of words and her nonchalant attitude, the shame and guilt vanished in the moments you were with her. Those perpetual, repulsive thoughts seemingly disappeared when you were with her. She let you get it all out, “Repressing feelings is never a good thing”, she would say, to try and coax more feelings out of you. It’s ironic now. All that talk about being free and letting go, and she went and suppressed herself inside a stone. One that can’t be broken. At least she’s free from all of your guilt.

But the guilt and shame hunts you down. The knowledge of your moments together, all your hushed sighs and the rustled bed sheets, always found you. Like a poltergeist with a nasty attachment to you. It pushed doors open, the creaks reminding you of the bed bouncing. It opens windows and the wind blowing in howls like a subtle moan. You’ll never escape it.

And everyone knows. They see it clear as day. They whisper about you in the dining hall. They gossip and glare as you walk past, heading for the cold, dark room. Where else would you be? No other room holds your heart inside it. You follow the everlasting hallways to her room. The abstract patterns in the stone ways start to bend and form words. Even the walls know. They’ve seen everything. Every touch, every fuck, and every stare, even those not reciprocated. The words etched into the walls bore back at you. They scream, they holler, they shout. They’ve seen the guilt and heard every repressed thought of her. No act of reconciliation goes unnoticed. Every attempt to get her out of that god forsaken stone.

You come to the door, but it’s broken open, hinges barely holding onto the wall. The room sits empty, no guard to listen in on all your intimate and private moments with her. But where is she? Her stone lays shattered across the floor. The pieces scattered everywhere and the stone concrete floors are drenched in wet slime. The feeling disgusts you, it’s all too familiar for you to handle. Yet, she’s gone. But you mustn't think of where she could be. She isn’t with you anymore, so you cannot think of her. You vowed not to.

Down the hall, in yet another dull, gray room, shouts emerge and thuds vibrate the floor. You don’t bother to deal with that issue. You’re too preoccupied with the dilemma you face currently. For you are forever guilty without her. The room that encompassed your safety has vanished. Those repulsive thoughts flood back to you, clouding every corner of your mind. The shame can finally hunt you down and finish the job off. Footsteps come chasing towards you. They grow louder and louder as they inch closer. Finally, you’ll meet your end and be set free. A life without her is not one worth living. The walls spill out all of your secrets. The people gossip and whisper. The guilt grows louder.

Every inch of the building shakes. The walls, the floor, the door - everything. It rattles and rumbles. The walls finally start to crumble and break. The dirt seeps from the corners and the beams start to fall from the ceiling and crash onto the floor. You back out of the room. All your secrets being left in that room, setting you free. Freedom finds you, not guilt. The room has fallen and all your tainted vows fall with it. It’s all destroyed. You’re free to think. About her. About it all. Free to think about every touch, every fuck, and every reciprocated stare. And the smell of her hair, her laugh, and her name, Annie.

You hope, you dream that you get to be with her. To finally be free of the shackles you put yourself in. that room is no more and neither are your perpetual, repulsive thoughts. Simple eye contact is all you need. All the remnants of shame, guilt, and fear have since left you. You touch, you hold, you feel. She grabs you and you feel weightless. Her arms wrap around your neck and you two collapse to the floor. Her existence is enough to make you feel free.