#(i was already basically there but i had an anxiety spiral a couple months ago about freezing my eggs which i’ve confirmed was just anxiety

[arthur-r]

testosterone meeting complete?!?!?!?!???!!!

#it went well the doctor was so much better than any doctor i’ve met ever in my life #treated me like a human being?? was familiar with my pre-existing conditions?? #saw autism on my chart and just acknowledged it and moved on?? no ‘‘are you sure you’re trans you’re just a confused autistic kid’’ ??!! #i have an informed consent paper to look at now but it’s all stuff i’ve already researched #i have officially decided that T is more important to me than biological children so we got this #(i was already basically there but i had an anxiety spiral a couple months ago about freezing my eggs which i’ve confirmed was just anxiety #‘​‘just anxiety’’ i sound like a fucking evil doctor but like. intrusive-thoughts-anxiety vs thing-i-should-listen-to. i don’t want bio kids #the one thing i’m nervous about is my singing voice i wanna make sure i get some recordings in before my voice changes #cause my voice isn’t mine but i’ve sure worked hard on it shdhdf and it has a high pitched anxious quality to it that you can’t often find #shdhdhf i just feel like the voice i have now is more unique than wherever i’m gonna end up. and i really want to sound like my favorite cis #men musicians but i feel like my anxious songs just won’t hit the same if it sounds like some guy is singing them #so i’m gonna make some recordings within the next month to put out pre-T demo versions of my songs (real demos not what i’m always posting) #and then i’ll be ready. cause i want to sound like some weird shitty man SO BAD. please just let me be some off-key guy with voice cracks #TO BE CLEAR i would sure like to be a talented singer on testosterone. which has happened for one of my dearest friends and can probably #also happen for me. if i keep working on my voice all the time. BUT i would rather have a shitty low voice than a beautiful high one #which i did a lot of thinking about and grappling with since i’m a vocalist and it’s kind of really important to me #but half the male musicians i listen to can’t even hold a tune. so I CAN HANDLE IT #anyway!! i’m going to latin now!! and then i have work and then asexual club and then heading home and maybe laundry #i hope everybody has a good day and i love you dearly #me. my post. mine. #delete later #medical cw #(? ask to tag)

[stargazing-enby]

hi, i hope i'm not bothering you. i'm wondering if you could give me some advice.

so basically... i want to want to come out to my family or at least my parents because they keep making jokes about me getting a boyfriend or having crushes on boys and stuff like that.

i'm pretty sure i'm a lesbian and those "jokes" make me feel really uncomfortable and sad, but i still laugh along. i know this could all be avoidable if i just came out to them yet that idea scares me so much.

they're allies, i know that they will accept me, so i don't know why i can't just do it and why i'm afraid to do so. there are so many people who don't have that privilege and i feel absolutely horrible because they don't even have that choice and meanwhile here i am being frightened by people who will accept me being me.

and then there's this other thing where people make it look so fucking easy to come out. like they just bring it up randomly and boom, they're done. no fear involved. how the fuck.

every time i think about telling my family, it makes me feel nauseous and i just want to run away from that thought. i know i could just wait until i'm ready but then people will keep making jokes about boyfriends and shit. i really don't know what to do.

please please please don't answer if you don't want to. thank you for your time i hope you have a nice day <3

Hi! No worries, it doesn't bother me :)

I'm sorry they keep making jokes about you getting a boyfriend :( I used to hate those so much myself.

I'm sure many people genuinely find it easy to come out to their families, but it's absolutely okay if that's not the case for you. It's okay to find it extremely hard, even if you know they're allies and you know they'd support you. If it's any consolation, I was the same with my transness. I told my dad I was trans around October last year. I'd been wanting to tell him since July. I made myself miserable for months on end before I could (barely) get the words out. Every time I opened my mouth to tell him, I'd get so physically sick from anxiety I had to get out of the room or walk away from him. And all of this despite the fact that he already knew I like women and is very supportive of that, and despite the fact that he kept telling me things like "I'll love you no matter what" and "you can tell me anything" (I obviously wasn't subtle about wanting to tell him something lol).

Even after I told him I'm trans and was met with words of love and support, it took me until effing Christmas Eve to ask him to use he/him for me, and I don't think I told him about my name change until a couple of months ago at most. By the time I told him, I'd already told dozens of people, many of them people who barely knew me. It was easier to tell strangers and acquaintances than my own supportive family.

All this to say, coming out to parents can absolutely be really fucking terrifying no matter how supportive they are. And that's normal! They're the people who have known you the longest, and they can be amongst the people whose opinion you care about the most and whose support you need the most. And even if you know they're supportive of queer people in general, in many cases you just can't know how far that support goes, or how much they understand, or how many questions they'll have, or whether—in trying to support you—they'll say the wrong thing and you'll feel attacked and unsafe in an already very scary and vulnerable moment. All of this is twice as true when you're not even sure of your own identity yourself, and you're still figuring things out. Because then, a single "oh, I never would've thought you were a lesbian" or "oh, but you always liked boys as a kid" can send you into a spiral of self-doubt and denial.

Now, with all of this being said, my question is: do you want to come out to them, or do you just want the jokes about boyfriends to stop?

Because if you want to come out to them (it doesn't have to be as a lesbian, you can just say "I like girls, not boys" or any other information you want to give them), my advice would be to keep trying. It's hard, it makes you feel sick to your stomach, and it is an exhausting thing to put your body and mind through, which is why you should make sure to rest and do self-care and not punish yourself if you have low energy/tolerance levels while this is going on. But if you're anything like me, you'll reach a point where you're so tired of carrying this weight around every waking hour you'll just blurt it out in a panic eventually. If that doesn't sound like something you'd do, you can also try alternative methods, like writing it down, texting it to them, adding rainbow to your room/giving them other hints that will make them ask you about it, or something else entirely.

But if the only reason you want to come out to them right now is you want the jokes to stop, you can also just ask them to stop with the jokes! You don't owe them a single explanation about your sexuality. No matter how supportive they are, they're not entitled to that information. You can simply say "hey, the jokes about me liking and dating boys make me uncomfortable, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped." If they ask you why, you can say your love life is a private matter, or you don't want to explain it, or something similar. If they insist, reiterate that you want them to stop, and focus on how they'd really make you feel safer around them if they respected this boundary. If you can, try to say this in a way that conveys that you expect them to be understanding and respectful.

You're not horrible for finding it hard, and you shouldn't compare yourself to people without supportive families. Everyone's journey is different and complex in its own ways, and all of the reasons I stated above are just some of the reasons coming out to a supportive family can be terrifying. And, most importantly, you can't punish yourself into not feeling emotions you don't think you deserve to feel. Your emotions are gonna be there, whether you want them to or not. You can fight against them, bury them, feel shame and guilt around them—or you can acknowledge them, let them come and go, and focus on what you can do to get through them in a way that makes you feel better.

Hope you have a nice day too! 😊

#Ask #Coming out

[aching-tummies]

(Not exactly sure if I'm really doing this right but here we go.) If I was your partner... I'd take you someplace nice and encourage you to eat whatever you want. After a large meal I'd be the one to drive home, as your complaining of an upset stomach. Wanting a reaction, I'd take you down the secluded, bumpy road to see what happens.

A/N: Thanks for the lovely ask! I kind of deviated a little, incorporating some of what's been going on in my life lately (new job, stresses causing me to skip meals, the craving for pasta, etc.) The beginnings of this do delve into spiraling about weight(loss) and body image stuff a little...so if that's a trigger for people then this is your warning.

It’s been more than two years since we indulged in dine-in service at a place with non-disposable cutlery. I’ve been craving pasta for even longer than that. Creamy, garlic-y, non-reheated pasta served on a plate and twirled around a metal fork.

We haven’t taken any opportunities to celebrate for the last two years. Birthdays, holidays, promotions at work or major advancements in our career adventures—we’ve barely done anything more than acknowledge them as we both go to pick up extra shifts wherever it is that we have been working. Honestly, we’ve seen so little of each other that it wouldn’t surprise either of us if the other snuck in a job-change in the last two years. That all changes tonight.

A nearby pasta place is offering dine-in service. We booked a reservation for tonight—all you have to do is pick me up from work and we can head on over.

I’m the one that managed to sneak in a job-change in the craziness. Fast-food to office intern. I’m barely handling things. I’ve been beyond exhausted because the change happened suddenly. The office place demanded that I start with them on a whim (despite my only condition on hiring being the time to give my fast-food job the proper two week notice). Due to their abrupt “start now or we will move ahead with other candidates” ultimatum, I’ve been pulling 44+ hour weeks juggling two jobs located on opposite ends of the city.

Tonight is a celebration. Dine-in service by itself is already something to celebrate in my books, but you’re insisting that tonight is for me because I finally finished my dues to the fast-food place. The hellish four weeks of juggling is over. No more calls at midnight from me begging you to pick me up from some random quadrant of the city because I nodded off on the last bus home. No more days where I make it home from my office job only to get an urgent call from the fast-food place begging/demanding that I show up because someone cut work. No more packed weeks with no days off or time to even pack myself lunch. Hopefully no more nights where you have to peel me off of the floor because making it home was all I managed before passing out from exhaustion.

I’ve got an hour before you’re set to come pick me up from my office job. I can’t help but smile as I count down the minutes while working on editing some funding proposal that was shoved at me a couple of minutes ago.

My stomach grumbles at me and I clam up. I blush as I look around to ensure nobody heard it. The office is basically empty. All the other staff seem to have gone off to lunch. That’s something I’m going to have to get used to: the fact that there doesn’t seem to be a set schedule here…people head out to lunch whenever. As a petrified newbie, I haven’t had the guts to just take off whenever. The number of shifts where I’ve stayed here for a full eight hours and then navigated an hour and a half of transit transfers only to come home ravenous is pretty high.

Welp, if a stomach growls and nobody is here to hear it then I guess it doesn’t make a sound. I’ve got an hour left before you come to pick me up and we’re basically just two hours away from satisfying my years long pasta craving. Going out to hunt for food now would only spoil my appetite.

“I AM HERE!”

I giggle at the reference and accompanying gif you’ve sent to announce your arrival. I pack up my area and get up, saying ‘bye’ to Jerry on my way out. The second I walk out that door will mark the start of my days off for the week, something I haven’t had in over a month.

“Hi, sweetie!” I chirp as I open the passenger door and bend over to set down my bag.

As I settle in, folding myself into the car, the movements dislodge a deep rumble from my tummy. I freeze, arm still reaching out to close the door. You snicker at me with your left arm perched on your open window, fingers close to your face and highlighting that charming grin of yours that I love so much.

“Oi, close the door and we can get going.”

I do just that. With the door closed, you carefully back out of the parking space and off we go. We don’t get very far. Ah, the joys of rush hour. No use honking, Karen, you’re not ‘stuck in traffic’—you are traffic and there’s no manager for you to speak to here, moron!

I adjust my seat a little, leaning back and allowing myself to relax. I’ve done it. Tomorrow is a day off. And so is the next day. My first true weekend in over three years and my first days off in over three weeks. I can feel the tension ebbing out of me. My shoulders untense, leaving behind a distinct soreness.

My shoulders aren’t the only thing to stop tensing. Apparently, my abdominals decided to join in as well.

Grrr…RRRR…blr.br…rrr.

I blush and sit up, arms wrapping around my stomach as it continues to snarl at me. The growls come with the sharp pains of hunger pangs and I wince, hugging my tummy and pressing my arms against the pain. The grumbles are quickly drowned out by your laughter.

“Man, no wonder you say your coworkers don’t talk to you here. If I heard that coming from a newbie I’d be scared of ‘em too.”

“S-Shut up!” I don’t want to admit that my tummy has been growling very loudly at the office. I’ve skipped more lunches than I’ve eaten in my time here. I lean back in the seat again, arms crossed over my chest as I look away from you, pouting. I’m hungry enough that my stomach really hurts, I’m a panicking newbie at work that doesn’t know the ropes or what’s expected of them, and here you are teasing me.

Your right hand reaches over but instead of stopping on the shift stick it continues further until your palm finds my stomach. The gentle pressure and the warmth of your palm nudging right over where my stomach joins my intestines aids in the relaxation of my tensed muscles and brings forth another loud grumble from my guts. You move your hand slightly, patting and rubbing my flat tummy absentmindedly as you keep the rest of you focused on traffic.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Y-Yeah…” I don’t want to admit that I’m happy about it. My waistband was loose enough to fall to my thighs before I put my belt on this morning. I love it but you and I both know weight and eating are sore subjects for me. I bite my tongue to keep from asking whether or not you think the weight loss is a good thing or not. Your tone was flat—it was an observation. The fact that I’ve been too busy and stressed out to have time to eat (or digest properly when I do) has led to the rapid shedding of pounds. Not just in the last three or four weeks, but for a long time yet. The reasons for the weight loss aren’t good…but I really do like the results, so I don’t want to hear it from you…good or bad…I don’t want to hear it. Thankfully, you don’t push the issue. Traffic picks up and you remove your hand from my stomach and put it back on the wheel.

My stomach continues to gripe and snarl as we make our way through the city at a crawl. I no longer have work to distract me and your impromptu massage has definitely woken the beast in my guts. ‘Starving’ doesn’t even begin to cover how my stomach feels. I’m starting to feel the other effects of the lack of food too. Light-headedness, feeling cold, and a limpness in my limbs. I want to press my arms into my stomach to quell some of the ache and the noises but I just can’t seem to summon the strength to put enough pressure on it. I wish you had kept your hand on my tummy. As much as your touch intensified the hunger, the pressure of your hand on my stomach was kind of comforting. Ugh…this is all wrong. We’ve been together long enough to know that both of us are into tummy stuff. Any other opportunity we’d be all over each other right now. Your mention of the weight I’ve lost and the silence that has followed since is filling me with anxiety. Under normal circumstances you’d have parked the car somewhere to tease my hungry tummy into oblivion. The fact that we’re currently driving in silence when there’s a golden kink opportunity in the palm of our hands is worrisome to me. Suddenly I don’t feel so good about the weight I’ve lost. I like it. It made me look totally bomb in my new office clothes. Buttons don’t strain even when I bend over or stretch. I spend the rest of the car ride lost in my anxieties. I’m not at an unhealthy weight. Sure, losing it is a testament of the stress I’ve been under lately…but it’s not like I’ve been intentionally skipping meals or fixating on some unachievable body image or something. This isn’t about the weight or anything, it was just a happy consequence of the hectic times I’ve gone through.

We arrive at the restaurant and you get out, expecting me to follow. I’ve managed to work myself into a ball of anxiety in the passenger seat and I don’t move. You pause on the sidewalk when you see me still strapped inside the car. You walk over and open the passenger door.

“Babe?” You see me petrified and chewing on my lip—a tell-tale sign I’m fighting some internal battle. “What’s wrong?” You cup my cheek with your hand, thumb going to pull my lower lip away from my teeth.

“Huh? Wha?” My gaze sharpens as I’m brought back to reality. I didn’t even realize we’ve arrived.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Uhm…w-well…y-you said…n-nevermind.” I unbuckle the seatbelt and step out of the car. You frown as you think back on what I meant about you having said something.

“Oh, about the weight loss?” I freeze. Bingo. “Babe—I didn’t mean anything by it, honest. Just an observation.” You scratch at the back of your head. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately and gosh knows neither of us has had time to cook or pack lunches. I was just thinking that maybe we should work on that together. Going hungry so often sounds like a dream, kink-wise…but neither of us has had time for that lately. I was going to suggest creating a mealplan or something together, maybe bringing out the slow cooker and freezing some stuff so that we can just grab and go for work going forward.” I stumble over and rest my head on your shoulder, giving a slight nod.

I’m overwhelmed. One thing you said sent me spiraling and you just pulled me out of it.

“Ugh…don’t do that again.”

You smirk. “I won’t. Rather than think yourself into a hole over that, you should really think about what it is you want to eat. We’re ordering off the full menu tonight.”

My eyes widen. The full menu has more selection but it’s way more expensive. Every time we’ve come here in the past, we have always ordered off the specials menu—the discounted, half-size portions that they offer. You smile seeing my stunned reaction.

“Birthdays, holidays—and Sweets, you got a job! You got a job where you don’t have to deal with the dreaded ‘customer’. I’m proud of you, Sweets. This…this is supposed to be a celebration…right? For all the celebrating we haven’t been able to do in…damn, how long has it been—” Your rambling is cut off when I seal your lips with mine. I step back with a grin, watching the dumbfounded, wide-eyed expression pass over to you ‘cuz I’m usually the no-kissy-touchy type.

“Chicken parm with garlic, angel-hair pasta in cream sauce.” I know exactly what I want to order. I’ve known it for over two years. That dish has been taunting me in my dreams for over two years. When I chew on my pillow in my sleep ‘cuz I skipped dinner in lieu of sleep I’m dreaming about that dish. The last time I had it from here was with my parents—long before I met you—for a birthday when I was still in grade school. My stomach growls, punctuating my declaration. The sound shocks you out of your reverie and you slide an arm around my waist, resting your palm against my stomach as you feel all the empty rumbles reverberating beneath your palm.

“Alright. Guess we better walk in before they give away our table…or before you decide it’s quicker just to eat me here in the parking lot.”

Ugh…how am I already full? There’s still so much food on the plate. So, so much. Urrgh…

My stomach silently gripes at me. A sickly, sticky feeling is blooming in my guts. I’m sated but there is still far too much food on my plate. The full menu is more expensive, but they fill the plate up more and often use bigger plates. I’ve forgotten just how big, and my tummy is suffering. Two years is a long time to go without something and I’ve gone without fulfilling my craving for pasta in cream sauce for over two years, maybe even three. That’s a long time…long enough for my stomach to forget how to handle cream sauce, apparently.

I’ve only swallowed about a fifth of my plate and my stomach already feels heavy. The warm bread to start and the bites of chicken parmesan cutlet went down alright. They lined my stomach comfortably and my digestive tract knew exactly how to handle them. The first couple of bites of pasta were cushioned by the bread and chicken. When that lining dissolved away and more of the pasta came into contact with my gastric juices, I realized there was a problem.

My stomach pounced on the bites of bread and the water and cola I chased it down with. I could practically feel my duodenum yawning wide to suck in the masticated bread, my intestines just as hungry for it as I have been all day. When it had to contend with the cream sauce things started to slow down. I can feel a backlog of stuff sitting in my stomach, refusing to be broken down further into a form that will comfortably move onto my intestines. I’m chewing a lot more, my mouth creating more saliva. I feel sick. My stomach doesn’t hurt, yet, but it’s definitely going to as it fights with the creamy, oily pasta.

“Ooh…they’ve got tiramisu here.” You’re eyeing the dessert menu. “It’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah…but it’s expensive and this is a lotta food.”

“We’re supposed to be celebrating, Sweets. We’ll take whatever you don’t finish to-go. Leftovers are a Godsend, remember? C’mon, let’s live a little.”

I feel a weight settle in my stomach as you flag down a passing wait-staff and order a tiramisu. To share, thank God. My stomach churns in vain, serving only to churn up the mess of creamy pasta and chicken without moving it along further in the digestive process. The sphincter to my duodenum is squeezed tight, refusing passage to the foreign cream and oil mix that it doesn’t seem to recognize.

I managed to finish just under half of my plate before the dessert arrived. I decided to throw in the towel and asked for the rest to be packed up to-go. I put on a smile as we share the dessert and hope it’s not as shaky as my guts feel. The dessert is delicious. Rich, flavorful, and perfect. If only I didn’t have to feel it sickeningly sliding down my esophagus, plopping down heavily into a stomach crammed much too full with indigestible pasta. As my stomach clenches and churns things around the creamy tiramisu is going to get incorporated with the rest of the mess. It’s going to make it thicker and creamier…as if it wasn’t already too thick and too creamy for my duodenum to open up and allow it to wreak havoc in my intestines. As sick as my overstuffed stomach feels, I am a little grateful that my duodenum is being a stubborn prick.

If the creamy mess had passed into my intestines, I’d be doubled over in the bathroom right now, rubbing futilely at my revolting intestines. I know what dairy does to my guts. It doesn’t usually happen, just when I’m stressed or it’s close to that time of the month. It’s nasty and it hurts bad enough that I honestly think hell is enduring those cramping intestines for eternity.

We finish the tiramisu. You offer me the lion’s share, but I refuse and push it back to you with a mention on my stomach being really full. I bring my hands to my stomach and I catch the way your eyes smolder at the sight. Good. Yes. Get us home quickly, darling.

You pay for the meal, and we are off. I clutch my tummy behind my bag as we walk out to the car. Every step sends aftershocks into my guts and it’s really upsetting things in my stomach.

As I settle in the passenger seat, I notice the buttons on my blouse are a little bit strained around my stomach. Horror sets in and I quickly fumble to get the buttons undone. I don’t want to ruin my shirt and the sight of the straining buttons triggers something nasty in my mind. I calm down a little once the buttons are undone and I rub my tummy under the cover of my bag, palms running up and down the dark undershirt that is draped snugly over my full belly.

“It’s still early. Want to really paint the town red and see if we can catch a movie somewhere?”

I swallow back a sickly belch to answer your question, my questing hands churning up the mess in my guts and dislodging air pockets.

“Umph…n-no…let’s go home.”

“Sweets, you okay?” Your voice is laced with concern. Surely you can hear the sickly squelching from my guts. Do I have to spell it out for you?

“Hmm? No,” I blush as I fidget and grapple with whether or not to come clean. I’m shy about this kind of stuff—you’re my partner though and have been for a long time—we’re both into tummy stuff—we haven’t done anything on this front in a very long time. Making my decision, I move my back over to the floor, resting it against my shins and I lean back, allowing you full view of my distended tummy with my blouse undone. “I just…uhm…m-my tummy’s kinda…upset…I just really want to get home.” My stomach burbles sickly throughout our conversation. I have both my hands on the rounded curve of it, rubbing at tender spots with my thumbs.

Your eyes widen at the sight of my belly rounding out my undershirt. You start the car and pull out of our stall. Instead of righting the car onto the road you keep backing into a more secluded spot on the far end of the lot. This one is obscured by an overgrown bush or tree on the passenger side.

I haven’t even bothered with getting my seatbelt on. I was too caught up in my indigestion to think of it despite it normally being a habit. To be fair, I don’t think the seatbelt is a good idea with my tummy so bloated and sore.

“What are you—”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn in your seat, giving me your full attention. My seat is still reclined a little further than normal from the drive over. Gently, you put a hand on my shoulder, indicating for me not to sit up. Your eyes briefly meet mine and convey your plan before they go back to fixating on my belly.

I relax my arms, letting them rest at my sides as you slide a hand over the crest of my bloated gut. I bite back a groan as the slight pressure of your hand increases the pressure in my intestines. My stomach is packed full with an indigestible mass of creamy pasta. My duodenum is not allowing any of that entry into my intestines so they sit, bloated with air. The ingredients for a very upset tummy are inside of me…they just need a bit of a push to act as a catalyst.

The push comes in the form of a literal push as you place both hands, one on each side of my tummy, and squeeze. I bite back a mewl of pain until the pressure relents and you are sliding your hands all over my taut tummy.

“Oh my…you really are full.”

“Ugh…haven’t…haven’t eaten so much in a long time.” I groan as your hands churn up the mess in my guts. You know what you’re doing. You felt the firmness in my upper left and you know that everything is sitting heavy in my stomach. You focus your massage on my left, on the area where my duodenum is. You rub and nudge and coax at the area, intent on getting the sphincters to unclench and allow my meal to continue to digest.

“Oh…ah!” I can’t help but cry out a little as I feel my duodenum flood with the lumpy mess. A rumbling, wet burble indicates when the sphincter finally gives up and allows the mess in my stomach passage. My stomach acid wasn’t enough to break down the creamy, oily pasta so it’s entering my intestines relatively undigested.

After ten minutes of you massaging my belly, (in)digestion is in full swing. My intestines are filling up with the ache-inducing mass and the straining pressure that started in my stomach has now spread all over my abdomen. You reach over and pull down my seat belt, buckling it before reaching over to get my seat back into an upright position. My stomach cramps sharply with the change in orientation and my mewl of pain is cut off by a harsh belch. You pat my tummy almost teasingly as you right yourself in your seat and start the car.

I don’t bother to keep track of where we are heading. You could be taking me to the movies, intent on letting my indigestion stew for a couple of hours, or you could be driving us home. I don’t care. I can’t care because every ounce of me is focused on the sharp pains exploding all over my guts as the car hits every bump in the road. Damned city not bothering to spend money to fix the thousands of pot-holes in our roads. My stomach is just as vocal as I am about the indigestion.

You brake sharply, causing the seatbelt to dig into my tummy and tear a sharp gasp of pain from me. I see the road ahead of us…it’s not a road at all but literally the worst road in our city. This stretch of road is famous even outside of our city for just how bumpy and nasty it is. People scrape the undercarriage of their cars if they aren’t careful in avoiding the potholes that litter this thing like craters on the moon. People have lost pieces of their cars and done massive damage to their vehicles by driving down this road. People around here know to avoid this road. The alternative is a ten minute detour to take the safer, newer road and everyone agrees that ten minutes more is better than damaging their car on this road so it is always empty.

“Darling, no—”

You floor it, going down the secluded road at a high speed. We hit every bump and hole in the thing (that won’t damage the car)…you used to come down this thing often and you’re a master at navigating it to avoid damage to the vehicle. Damage to my tummy, on the other hand.

My stomach gives off aborted grumbles and gripes, each one interrupted as we hit another bump in the road. My tummy sloshes and churns. Digestion had stalled without your hands pushing everything along, but this new form of “massage” in the form of a very bumpy ride is kick starting things all over again…in the wrong direction. Stuff swirls inside of my stomach and I swear that it’s filling up rather than emptying. The pressure is building in my stomach. I’d like to believe it’s the air from my intestines, but I’m sure we managed to get most of that out with your massage in the parking lot.

"Ugh…ouch…ah—ow! Ungh…my tummy…urp…my tummy…ulp…” I can’t help it. Belches and protests roll through my throat, unchecked. It’s better than the alternative of something solid, I guess. The road has increased the upset tenfold as I clutch my stomach in both hands. The road has dialed the cramping pains up to eleven and many more aches and tender spots have erupted thanks to the bumpy ride. We’re about halfway through the road when I feel something solid tickling at my esophagus.

“Ugh—Babe—STOP!” I reach up and slap a hand over my mouth, fearing that we’re about to see my dinner come back out.

You slam on the brakes and the pressure from the seatbelt is what does it. My mouth fills with the sour mess of barely-digested pasta.

“Ugh…urk…” I swallow back the bile. It’s nasty, but there’s no receptacle and I don’t want to stink up the car. Luckily, this wasn’t a true vomiting session triggered internally—it was basically regurgitation brought on by external factors—like the seatbelt putting too much pressure on my over-packed tummy. My stomach snarls violently at the return of the sickly concoction.

You watch my struggle, fascinated. Reaching over, you put a hand on my palm, a hand that is quickly slapped away as I give you the fiercest glare I can muster.

“None of that until you get me home, darling.”

You grin, exaggerating taking your foot off of the brake pedal. I realize my poor phrasing a moment too late.

“As you command, Sweets.”

“Darling, no—”

#AT Asks #indigestion #tummy kink #tummy ache

[voltagesmutter]

Missing you

It’s a fluff

Mentions of sex but nothing actual smutish.

Pairing: Victor x MC

The shooting of the latest episode of miracle finder was phenomenal. Everything went off without a hitch. The shoots went great, the guests great, the five-star resort you were currently was in was great. 

The only not-great was the missing presence of Victor. Unable to pull him away from his busy schedule to come away to the tropical island for a week with you. The all expense resort was paid for by a company, wanting you to do an interview exclusive about their new resort. Meaning you would be interviewing the CEO of their company in a 30 minute segment episode. 

Victor heavily encouraged you to, claiming how good of an opportunity this was, that you would be able to cope without him for several days. He was proud of you there was no denying it and he was completely fine with you going until he knew of the company you were going to interview. The CEO, Mr.Reyes, was a few years older than Victor, almost equally handsome (But nowhere near the Victor Li) with a slightly more mature look and winning personality of everyone he met.

He was basically an older Victor with the charming personality of Kiro.

All Victor heard for the few days before you left was “Mr.Reyes this,”, “Mr.Reyes that,” unable to stop himself from learning to despise the name, but he never let that drop or let it reflect on his as always poker face. No this was something that made you so happy that Victor refused to let his jealousy ruin it. He *would almost* say he felt threatened this charming personality of Reyes might try to steal you away.

Although he did almost snap at the following point:

“I’ll lend you my private jet to take you,” A mild flex of his power.

“Oh no that’s fine! Charles is sending one for us, but thank you,” You beamed.

“Charles? Who is Charles?” And why is he lending his girlfriend a private jet.

“Oh it’s Reyes, Charles Reyes,” Her expression not changing, resting her head on his chest as she nuzzled closer to him. He screamed internally.

“You know, if you don’t want to go, there's still time to sort it,” His voice softened but his heart pounded.

“Not go? Are you joking, I’m going to probably do maybe an actual day's work of filming and sit on the beach for the following six days,” She laughed, placing a hand on his chest.

“Idiot… Don’t tell this to the man who funds your company,” He sighed. 

“Ah,” She sighed with slight discontent, “You promised-”. He turned his neck to look down at her, the slight sadness in her eyes. Of course he remembered what he promised her, no work related talk outside of the offices.

One night at dinner in Souvenir he scolded her over her latest reports, claiming to be spending more time invested in non-efficient activities. The kitchen wasn’t the only thing that was heated that night. A feisty argument brewing the young couple. 

She reminded him half of them activities he references were actually what they did together.

He reminded her that she should be adamant about doing work rather than leaving it half-complete to go off gallivanting with him.

She reminded him that they were on a date, that this shouldn’t be happening right now.

He reminded her that he was her boss.

She reminded him that he was also her boyfriend.

She cried and stormed out to her apartment, him desperately chasing after her.

From then on they kept their business side away from their budding relationship.

“I only say it because I’m concerned,” A devious flirt glinted in his eye.

“Oh and why's that,” She leaned up to straddled him, pressing her forehead down against his.

“Just concerned you haven’t packed enough underwear since the majority of it is at my house,” A slight drop of a husky tone to his voice. 

He’d ripped the majority of them in half.

“You out of everybody Mr.Li should know about my lack of panties,” You teased back, distance closing between you. 

“Well let’s find out if you're wearing some now,” Flipping you over so your back pressed against the mattress, lips hot against yours. 

No, you weren't wearing any.

-

About Charles Reyes, Victor, he wasn’t jealous, just slightly worried.

He started making a little more effort before you went, a set of roses left fresh on your desk every morning, a special night at Souvenir, far more emotional intimacy. As if he was trying to pour the sheer admiration he had into you. 

Which he did, a lot. Sex became more than just sex, it became a raw-motion of passion. He worshiped your body more than ever, the sexual magnetism already between you pulled together tighter, unable to keep your hands off of each other. He cherished you until you could take no more, your name falling from his lips in much more vocal noise than he’d ever made before, giving you all of him. 

For once he was frightened, you might fall for Charles since he was practically Victor but with an award-winning personality. That he might steal you away from him.

Whilst you was away, you talked all the time on the phone when you could, a few late night/early morning calls took place as well *wink wink*. You both found yourselves missing each other, ensuring to tell one another, the occasional dummy slipping out with a hearty sigh. Neither of you had said the ‘love’ word to each other yet, even though it's how you knew you felt.

On the night before the final day, Charles, who took a keen shine to you, offered you a proposition. ‘Stay here, be head of the media for the company, an equal with me I’ll pay you more than your job now,’. There was no hint of it in a sexual manner, a business proposition merely that would be like living in a fantasy. But you couldn’t leave Miracle Finder, Anna, Kiro, Gavin, hell you’d even miss Lucien. But the one thing you knew you wouldn’t be able to give up, was Victor. While yes the rest of the crew stated how much he reminded them of Victor, all swooning for his characteristic charms he still never held a candle to your Victor Li.

But was Victor worth going back to? You’d only been together a few months and while yes the sex was fantastic, that emotional support from him still seemed to lack. He even admitted this on several occasions, stating his actions spoke better than words. You knew deep in your heart how truly felt, that your heart pounded every time you saw him, the poker-face he would drop into a smile at times, the way you caught him watching you when he thought you weren't looking, him occupying your thoughts from the minute you woke up. You loved him. But did he love you? Was it a good enough reason to give up an opportunity of lifetime for a man who was so reserved about his feelings and emotions?

You tossed and turned all night, mind racing from Charles' offer, evaluating every possibility of staying or leaving. One thought led to another, to another and before you knew it your thoughts sent you spiralling down with sheer anxiety. Would speaking to Victor help? Would he be angry at you for even considering you staying? Would he tell you to stay? Would he tell you to come back? 

Unable to take it anymore, you reached for your phone and dialled Victor, not caring for the time. Being apart meant you were in two separate time-zones, roughly eight hours ahead of him. It didn’t even ring twice before the voice you craved so much greeted you on the other side.

“Dummy… it’s well past midnight there, what are you still doing up?”.

“I need to talk to you,” You voice trembling slightly, your heart pounding against your chest.

“What's wrong?”.

There was a slight silent pause, you rang him on pure instinct without even knowing what you were going to say.

“Bella?” His voice laced with concern, you could picture him now sitting at his desk and leaning forward.

“"I love you. Victor, I love you. Please... Please tell me you feel the same. That I'm not just going crazy and this isn't just physical with you,” Tears spilling from the corner of your eyes, letting the emotions role out of you in waves.

“"W-what? You dummy why are you asking this? Was it another nightmare?".

"Just answer the question, Victor!" A desperate plea.

“I-” An interruption on the other end of the line pulled Victor's attention away, “I have a meeting, I have to go,”. No goodbye, nothing, just the ending click of the call ending and the sound of your tears as you wept into your pillow. The answer to your question was evidently clear.

The rest of the night was long, barely managing to sleep. When morning finally broke you felt more restless than you had done the night before, every waking moment replaying your broken conversation from a few hours ago. How you confessed your own feelings, how Victor said nothing as if what you told him was just a normal business report meeting. 

You took the morning to pack your suitcase, a faint smile as you remembered Victor scolding you for packing far too much stuff for a simple week away. You never travelled light, better to be over prepared than under as your dad used to tell you. Even if you made the decision to stay, you still needed to return home first, sort out everything before you would come back. Miracle finder would be in the safe hands of Anna, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. She would have to deal with Victor, you don’t even know if you could look him in the face after last night. Pouring your heart out to him, the rejection over the phone you could face but seeing him in person, seeking comfort to find none in his purple-iridescent eyes would be too much. No, you would never be able to face him again, the hurt would break you.  

You told Charles in the reception of the hotel that you would consider his offer, that you needed to go home to make a clear decision but you would let him know. Although your broken heart was screaming at you to stay, to just avoid the mess of seeing Victor again but you at least owed it to him that you were potentially stepping away from your job.  

You’d heard nothing from Victor since your phone call, it almost felt as if he was avoiding you. But could you blame him? Ringing him up in the middle of the night (Day for him) pleaing him to tell you how he felt about you, almost begging him to tell you he loved you back. Your finger swiped over previous messages between you in the taxi ride to the airport, scanning as if you were looking for some hidden code between them, anything that would gesture some emotional feelings towards you from him. But that was hard to find between messages like: ‘I’ll pick you up after work, don’t be late’, ‘Don’t oversleep’, ‘Dummy…”. All signs of affection, just not the emotion you were looking for… 

The plan was to fly home and for Victor to pick you up from the airport, but how that was going to work now you didn’t know. Would he be there waiting for you? Your stomach clenched slightly with nerves as you walked through the airport, it was only a mere few hours before you’d be landing back home, going back to face reality. To face Victor. 

Checking into the VIP lounge, the other members of the crew scuttled off to grab some last minute souvenirs, you how ver took comfort in the plush sofa. A few moments of silence to try collect your thoughts. With a heavy sigh you pulled out your phone, still no new messages, attempting to ring Victor. It didn’t even ring, putting you straight to voicemail, your heart sinking. Had he blocked you? Had your mid-night confession scared him that much he took to removing you from his life already? The words ‘This is Victor Li. I’m unavailable right now, leave a message’ was enough to set off your tears again, leaving you a sobbing mess in the airport. People exchanging looks but none of that mattered, your heart was torn in two. 

Striking footsteps, footsteps you could recognise anywhere, hit the cold flooring and instantly flooded your ears. Your head snapped up, through blurred vision you were able to make a tall black haired man, a faint smile that you could recognise anywhere.

“Victor?” You stood, wiped your eyes and found yourself running to him, his arms pulling you close into an embrace. He held you close for a moment, no exchange of words before you slowly pulled away.

“I thought after last night you-” You started.

Gently pulling you closer, Victor took in your tear stained face before kissing you slowly. It wasn't a usual kiss, no heat, just love. So much love... 

"You dummy, do you think I'd do any of this, the Souvenir dinners, travel the world to meet you if I didn't?". An answer, an answer where his actions spoke for his words. 

“I love you,” A whisper as you pressed on your tip-toes to kiss him once more, all the words he wanted to say back, ‘I love you too’ poured into his kiss back. The two of you holding each other in a tender-loving moment. 

He had cleared his schedule, jetting out first thing after your phone call to arrive in the airport for your scheduled flight, racing time to get to you. Actions portraying the words he couldn’t find himself to say. 

Laying against him on the ride back, the crew still using Mr. Reyes plane, the two of you sharing a blissful moment between you. You told him the reason for your confession from last night, the offer, the anxiety you felt, the fear that when he didn’t answer you last night.

“Are you still considering the job?” He asked, thumb rubbing over yours. A hint of worry in his voice. He’d spent the majority of his life looking for you, he would be damned if he lost you now. 

“I did… but now I know I have a real reason to stay here,” You beamed, a smile that made Victors heart melt every time he saw it. 

“Good, because I couldn’t let you go,” He hummed, “I can never lose you again”. 

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mr love victor #mr love queens choice victor #mr love li zeyan #mlqc li zeyan #li zeyan #mr love mobile #mlqc fluff

[im-whatchamccallit]

Their S/O Helping with Their Music//3Racha

(A/N: This is based on the Hongjoong+Mingi reactions I did two days ago if you’d like to read those. Also, I have a notification for an extra message in my ask box but nothing shows up. So if you requested something, and have been waiting forever for it, I’m sorry but I literally can’t find it. But please feel free to request again!)

Let me preface by saying 3Racha have a great work dynamic, mainly because they’re all proficient, if not experts, when it comes to music. Because they all know what to do and how to do it, everything is fun and effortless. That being said, let’s talk about why 3Racha would be STRESSED having their s/o try to help them make music.

For starters, Chris would say yes to your offer to help. He thought it’d be a cute, fun, nice couplely activity to do together. But Chris is also very serious about his music, so watching you nearly screw up the melodies and beats he spent weeks making was enough to give him a panic attack.

Chris would ask you to just write some lyrics for the song, giving you a basic idea of what the comeback would be and the vibe he needs the lyrics to fit, honestly just needing you to not screw anything else up. And, thankfully, you didn’t this time. Sure, the lyrics needed a bit of touching up, being a bit too romantic for a song about spiraling into the deep, dark abyss we call life but, dammit, he was proud of you.

He’d feel bad that writing is all you’ve done since you got there, knowing you wanted to contribute a lot more, but being a complete novice in a room with nearly completed songs that only needed editing was dangerous. Chris would push aside that project and start a new one, ushering you over so that he can teach you the basics, giving you the opportunity to create a song of your own now that it’s clear Chris doesn’t really need the help.

Was he stressed out because it took you 3 hours to understand the difference between a mixer and controller? Yes.

Would he ever let you come back to help him again? Maybe, but only when they were on a break and didn’t have to focus on deadlines and promotions.

Changbin is a lot less lenient than Chris. You learned that the first time you visited him at the studio, only to be scolded as if you were a random person that broke into his home, and that’s when you learned the most important rule of working with Changbin:

HE IS SPEAR B WHEN HE’S IN THE STUDIO AND SPEAR B IS NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND!

Spear B doesn’t coddle you and do the work for you like Changbin most likely would, so you had to make sure you had some ways to contribute to helping him or else you’d be gone within a second.

Changbin knew you were a great pianist and had a particularly great ear for music, more so in terms of vocal abilities, and you’re notes honestly helped him correct his songs the way he needed them to be. So, after giving you his typical “no fooling around, one strike and you’re out” warning, you were in.

You were both pretty productive, but every time Changbin glanced over to you, hearing a tune that was unfamiliar or, if familiar, was from a movie or video game, he’d eye you suspiciously.

He knew you were getting a bit restless, and that your boredom was taking over, so he tried to do whatever possible to keep you entertained while also keeping the progress of his work going. From asking you to make an outro for an unreleased (and already completed) song, to having you revise lyrics he wrote months ago and hasn’t batted an eye at since.

Not even 10 minutes after being assigned those task, you were finished, letting out a groan followed by a whiny ‘I’m bored’. For an amateur, you worked fast.

At this point, Changbin begs you to give him a few more minutes with editing, knowing he needed to get it checked over by Chan and Jisung afterwards anyways, but still wanting to complete it on his own. But you continued to complain, your voice echoing in the space as you asked him if you can start on something new, hopefully creating something for 3Racha or Stray Kids to perform in the future, your rambling cut short by a loud and obviously annoyed ‘Do what you want! Just let me finish this!’.

This is how you began to work in silence, you pressing away at the keys to form a strictly melancholy tune, Changbin finally done editing. When he looked at you, he felt his heart sink. You were only trying to help. It wasn’t like you were goofing off or distracting him, you just wanted to do even more work on top of the work you already finished, but he was so worried about his deadline that he took it out on you. Again, Spear B wasn’t your boyfriend and you both knew that, but that doesn’t mean Spear B had to be a dick to you. You felt Changbin readjust your hands so you were now playing a more upbeat melody, one that fit his style just right, not giving him any attention until he called you ‘jagiya’, a smile forming on your face as he attempted to silently apologize for his anger.

(I don’t even like guys younger than me but I’d D I E for Jisung ;-;)

Jisung was TERRIFIED when you offered to help. He would contemplate saying no to you, especially with you already here at the studio, standing in front of him with doe-like eyes filled with determination. But that wasn’t what scared him. What scared him was watching that determination disappear after a few minutes with him.

Considering Jisung is the main lyricist of 3Racha, he puts his all into his words, that includes his emotions. This song in particular was a bit dark compared to his usual lighthearted behavior at home. You’ve never sat in on his writing sessions, and he was positive this would be a terrible introduction for you to experience it, but he let you in anyways, watching you practically skip towards the spinning chairs as you prepared to witness the great J.One in action.

And, my god, were you shocked.

You’ve seen Jisung cry plenty of times, sure. But you’ve never seen him like this, silently sobbing over his phone as he typed out lyrics, your eyes trained on him despite the fact you were supposed to be improving your mixing. He’d be so deep in the unspoken emotions he felt, finally letting them spill into what would be his next hit, when your voice interrupted him with a soft ‘are you okay?’.

This was the last way he wanted you to see him, he honestly felt pathetic. So, in typical Jisung fashion, he gave a few sniffles, wiping his face with one hand before bringing back his usual grin, trying to convince you he was fine. But you weren’t convinced and your face showed it, his smile faltering as he reassured you he was alright, encouraging you to keep practicing until you were proficient enough to add more instruments to the current melody.

Jisung tried to suppress his emotions from then on, only making you more anxious as you played around with the bass and drum settings on the keyboard, giving up and instead asking to review his lyrics so far. It was an unexpected request, and it made him a bit insecure considering he wasn’t even close to finished, but he allowed you to take a look anyways.

This was the first time anyone outside of 3Racha has seen his writing process, so he couldn’t help the anxiety building in his chest as your eyes skimmed each word. If he had written it all beforehand, maybe you wouldn’t have to see him with puffy, red eyes. Maybe you’d think he was cool just helping you compose so he can find the right beat to perform it to you.

He had so many thoughts running through his mind, almost freaking out until you handed him his phone back, a blank look on your face while his eyes watched you expectantly.

“The lyrics are obviously showing sadness but you worded them in a way that makes it seem like you’re angry and defensive. Don’t let your sadness be an undertone when it’s the main theme of the song.”

It wasn’t something one would describe as philosophical, but it made Jisung feel as if he were speaking to Ralph Emerson himself, your words an eye opener that did nothing but helped him transcend (pun intended) out of the box of emotions he lived in. There was just one problem...

“I don’t know where to start...” he admitted, staring down at the words he wrote as if he’d never seen them before in his life.

But you just offered a small smile and abandoned the half-asses harmonies you created before turning your attention to him, reminding him that you came to help and, got dammit, you were gonna help.

It wasn’t what either of you expected, to be sitting and talking about deep topics that brought tears to both your eyes, but you managed to write something both powerful and energetic while still true to Jisung’s emotions. He felt silly at that point for getting so worked up over you helping out, but after all the crying he’d done, he decided that would be a wrap for the day, not even bothering to finish with the actual beat, saying a playful ‘I’ll ask Chan to do it’ as you both left the studio.

#3racha reactions #3racha scenarios #3racha imagines #3racha au #3racha fanfics #bang chan reactions #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan fanfics #bang chan au #seo changbin reactions #seo changbin scenarios #seo changbin imagines #seo changbin fanfics #seo changbin au #han jisung reactions #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung fanfics #han jisung au #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfics #stray kids au

[piratewithvigor]

a couple of the questions in the ask meme you reblogged really resonated with me, would you do 23, 24, 45?

Took me a bit to find the right list and I'm just guessing, but I hope this is the right one. I ended up answering these for two hours, so sorry about the novel

23. Were you happier four months ago than you are now?

Four months ago was March 13, by my calculations. And it's a really tough one to answer. A lot of dirty laundry happened that week, and I'm not sure just how much I want to share. What I do know is that one week before March 13, I was having a really great night. Went out on a mini road trip with a group of friends. We were gonna go have dinner in this little restaurant/convenience store in the middle of nowhere, but we only arrived 10 minutes after they'd closed down the kitchen. We bought snacks and this big tub of peanut butter ice cream. Drove around and ended up getting some KFC, then eating the ice cream in the high school parking lot before burying it in the snow to try and hide it until Monday. We sang Sk8tr Boy until we were hoarse. That kind of jubilant joy is gonna be hard to recreate.

A few days after that was my birthday. I've never really made a fuss about my birthday and it isn't super important to me, so acknowledgement from the people closest to me is pretty much all I look forward to. Making memories of some kind.

I had a boyfriend at the time I really loved. He'd gone on the mini road trip a few days before (also being a part of that friend group) and had mentioned offhand when my birthday was, so I knew he knew. We were never really chatty over text because he's much more vocal, but we always made it a point to wish each other good morning as soon as possible after we woke up. I already knew something was off when he took until 9 or so to wish me good morning (he had classes that started at 8, so I knew he wasn't sleeping in). It was the beginning of a day that was likely one of the worst birthdays I've had. After spending the day listening to those who did remember tell me to leave him, that this was unacceptable, I requested a call with him around 8pm. We hardly ever called, so I think he knew something was up. I told him he'd forgotten my birthday (and called him a dumbass in my rage, which wasn't called for)

I said a lot of things that night to people in my anger. I wish I could take a lot of it back, or explain what I had meant at the time, but none of it can be taken back and I accept that. We didn't break up that night.

The next few weeks were a little uneasy. He was jumpy and had gone into an anxiety/depression spiral over the fear of getting dumped (no matter how often I assured him that I loved him and had no intention of doing so), but as a result, we weren't leaning on each other with the right balance anymore.

A few days before Easter, I had an emotional breakdown that lasted several hours. He wasn't returning my messages and later said he was with two of our mutual friends at a beach about an hour away. I wasn't angry at him, but really disappointed. A lot of my turmoil had come from the solitude of being the only university student in a gang of high schoolers, so there were days I'd see them all having fun together without me, and I snapped a little.

The next day, one of those friends requested an evening hangout and I was obviously elated. I spent the day waiting and passing the time as quickly as possible. When she pulled up to my house at exactly the minute she said she got off work, I was a little suspicious, but suspected I had misread the message. The car was fully parked (also weird), my boyfriend was sitting shotgun (I didn't know he was coming) and the other friend was sitting in the backseat (I didn't know she was coming either). The vibe was all off and my boyfriend turned around in his seat and said that we needed to break up. He explained our relationship was taking a toll on his mental health.

In front of two other people, I didn't have the chance to get my emotions out properly. Nor did I have the chance to really talk things over with him. I learned later that this was because he wanted backup in case I got violent (one of the misunderstandings from the evening of my birthday).

I haven't seen him since then. I've only heard his voice twice during calls with other mutual friends who've remained neutral in the breakup. Overnight, my friend group went from a healthy regular 6 that could be expanded to 10 to only 2 who talk to me (in person friends, I should specify).

In the weeks since, I haven't left the property beyond picking up the mail or my brother from school. I've gotten a new interest that I adore (but my family hates). I've had days that feel magical and days where I feel like I'd be better off dead if I could give my all in a relationship and still be disrespected like that.

I don't know if I'm happier than I was 4 months ago. I have up days and down days just as frequently. They're just about different things. But maybe I am happier; some days, I notice my 'ups' are higher than they used to be.

24. Is there someone you wish you could fix things with?

Yes. In the aforementioned friend group, there were 6 of us who were the core: myself, my boyfriend, two other girls his age, one guy and one girl 4 years younger than me. I was never particularly close with the guy, but I always liked hanging out with him. The two other girls were the most regular hangouts because they were in town a lot, so if they went to hang out with my boyfriend, I was generally there too. They were the two in the car the night of the breakup.

The younger girl, I was probably the closest with. There would be evenings when she wanted help with homework or just someone to talk about nonsense while she listens. There were a good number of occasions where she would want to do homework late into the night and I'd lie in bed and tell her about movies I've watched recently. I considered her a really good friend, but because of our age difference, her parents were a little wary of her hanging out with the group outside of school (completely understandably so. I think the only reason she got to hang out with me was because her mom had been basically the youth pastor at our church since I was 8).

She took my boyfriend's side in the breakup. I know they were significantly closer than she was with me, but I just wish I didn't have to lose that friendship too. I sent her word through her brother to let her know I have no beef with her at all, but I don't think it did any good. It's very likely I won't be able to talk with her anymore, and I've mostly made my peace with it, but the lack of closure I got there is probably gonna mess with me for a while.

45. Do you believe exes can be friends?

I do. I have proof, but I don't know just how allowable it would be in this case. I consider myself to have had 6 relationships. They ranged from 1 month to 2 1/2 years.

My first one was third grade. The entire year, and about as PG as two 8-year-olds get. We broke up when fourth grade started, but were still pretty close friends. We got back together for a few months in seventh grade, but it wasn't working, so we went back to friends. He's now one of the only people I know in person who still talks to me. Definitely still a friend.

My second was 8th grade. A little bit toxic and we were probably better off ending when we did, but he gave me a lot of experience that I banked on for years. Have not spoken to him in close to 4 years.

My third was 9th grade. Definitely toxic. We don't talk about it. Stayed in contact and even friendly for about 2 1/2 years afterwards until I cut him off. It was really for the best in the end.

My fourth was later in 9th grade. My longest. Long-distance and one of my healthier ones. He left me after 2 1/2 years and gave me a whole lotta issues as a result. Our contact wavers on occasion, but we've never gone more than a month without talking.

My fifth was probably a week after my fourth. He was inheriting a basket case of a bitch. Also long distance and have not spoken since the breakup.

My sixth was the one who's breakup you read about above. We were together for almost exactly 18 months. My second-healthiest relationship after my first. He said we could still be friends, but the more time that passes, the less I believe it's a possibility.

#the first question is now inaccurate because it's after midnight but I ain't changing it

[chucktaylorupset]

Trans Boy Midoriya Izuku, he/him

This work is for Trangender September, where I challenge myself and others to make trans fanworks.  Tag and at me with your own Trans Fanworks all month long, and stay tuned for the rest of class 1-A

Everything is All Might.  All Might Binder. All Might cases for his T and his anti-anxiety meds.  Trans Flag All Might icon for his social media.

His mom has taught him plenty of skills like cooking (it just tastes better when she makes it) but one time Izuku was on Youtube and saw a thumbnail that was like “10 Skills You Need if You’re A MAN”  and he was like that’s some gender essentialist bullshit.

And then he clicked on it anyway and then time got away from him and a hundred videos and four consecutive hours he can now rehang a door. He can grill a burger.  He can use power tools.  He can change a tire.  The Midoriya’s do not have a car, but if they ever do get one he can change the tires.

Went on youtube in the first place to learn to tie a tie.  He had just come out and was about to go to middle school so it seems the thing to do.  But then aforementioned YouTube spiral happened, and he ended up going to a middle school that didn’t have a tie as part of the uniform so it was the one thing he didn’t learn.

When he gets his UA uniform though his Mom ties it for him.  She learned to do it so she could for her future husband, but his dad’s job uniform didn’t have a tie.  (But it definitely had a uniform srsly this is Japan) so she learned a long time ago so it’s kind of shitty which she apologizes for.

Izuku could not give less of a shit.  Tie tying goes up with Katsudon and All Might merch as top ways to experience his mother’s love.  Izuku is never going to learn to tie a tie when having someone else do it for him just feels so much nicer.

When he moved into the dorms he kept it in the same knot and just re-squeezes into it.  There’s almost no tie left to slide it over his face so now his morning routine has a step that is just. Wiggle Time.  

If you ever see it tied properly it means somebody else did it for him.  But like, his spare.  Mom Tie cannot be reknoted by anybody other than his mom or it loses all its love luck magic.

Eventually learns to tie one so he can do it for his Boyfriend.  Todoroki is very amused.

Couldn’t get blockers even though he was out before puberty because the Medical System is BULLSHIT and doesn’t test on quirkless people anymore.  Had to basically threaten to sue his doctor and his insurance to get T but by then the suckiness of an Estrogen based puberty had already happened.  Don’t even talk about how long he had to wait to get his anti-anxiety medication.

Midomama apologizes a lot for giving Izuku her genes for chest size and just sort of.  General fat stores.  Makes binding an unfortunate puzzle and, almost as distressing, hides the gains.  Izuku Midoriya is going to be a baby faced teddy Bear just give him a couple years.

Works out to beat up his Dysphoria.  Added benefit of beating up his anxiety.

See these muscles?  Lifting up the crushing weight of dysphoria and anxiety  Also Bicep Curls

Also Izuku, with more than half his limbs in casts: Guess dysphoria won that one.

Hey Izuku, asks a classmate on a dumbass day, can you feel dysphoric when you’re bodies in that much pain.  Izuku stares into space for forty seconds and then says sorry did you ask something.  Nevermind, says the classmate.  Nevermind is right.

Izuku swears that binding for him is a Job For All Might cause that’s the kind of strength it takes.  That All Might decaled binders are lucky and the only thing that end up getting the job done.  

Sure man says his classmates, that’s why all your binders are All Might.  Definitely isn’t the case that you’re a huge fanboy slash possible secret love child and it’d be 100% All Might no matter what.  

The only Izuku that doesn’t have 100% All Might Binders is one who doesn’t bind, and even then he probably has a lucky binder somewhere in the back of his closet just for nostalgia.

Often felt he wasn’t man enough because he’s nice and a pushover and basically not chugging that toxic masculinity juice

Doesn’t help that since he was socially transitioned by middle school, a lot of his new middle school classmates didn’t know he was trans and so they made a lot of unfortunate jokes about how the (then pre transition) Bakugou was more of a man than he was.  Was probably the only joke that was more meanspirited than it was meant to be, but how the fuck was Izuku was supposed that so he never said anything.

All Might’s brand of kindness no matter what really helped him feel like he was doing the man thing right

Now that we’ve talked about his emotional pain tolerance, let’s talk about his physical pain tolerance because it’s rather problematic.

Midoriya is unfortunately pain resistant which means he does not do things like notice when his binder has been on for more than eight hours or is so small that he literally can’t take a full breath.  Doesn’t help that his anxiety means that when he has trouble breathing he’s trained himself to just ignore it

Probably the only reason he hasn’t already permanently fucked up his ribs was his mom, who remembered enough about growing up herself to force him to remeasure and to set alarms for when to take off his binder.

Midoriya is also terrible at remembering to switch out of binding for gym.  Aizawa had to fucking threaten him with expulsion.  

Aizawa was constantly complaining in the teacher’s office that Midoriya can recite the ranks and stats of the top 100 heroes from memory but he can’t change for gym.

When he does remember, for gym Midoriya goes double sports bras.  The outer one is labelled in sharpie as “Binder.”  The inner one is labelled “Notebook Paper” and also has a bunch of hero stats on it.  This beauteous fucking nerd.

Midoriya still feels guilty about not magically realizing Bakugou was also trans and for transitioning so much earlier than him

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #trans izuku midoriya #transgender september #headcanons #my post #my writing

[philalethistry]

WELP my birthday month was a bit of a rollercoaster ride. I thought about the cons of posting this but I’d like to record it, so that future me can look back and, depending on how the future goes, either feel validated or be glad that this is over. Warning: discussion of crappy mental health.

TL;DR Breakdown results in will to live and fuck current events I have a recliner

I’m going to start with today, Sept. 1, and work back, for reasons.

Today I drove to a furniture thrift store. This doesn’t sound like much, but I A. hate driving, especially to new places, B. am already in a pretty anxious state, and C. I got lost because the road I wanted to turn on wasn’t marked, nor looked like a road rather than an alley, and so I somehow spent two hours trying to find one store. (At one point I had to stop and get something to eat because I had started shaking. The cashier watched me struggle to free two bills from my wallet and then declined the change I owed her to avoid making me retrieve that too. I wonder if she thought I was high...)

The important thing about what I did today, is I went out to find the store, and even when I did not find the store and ended up circling back to my street, instead of going home and having a sandwich and watching Youtube, I turned around again. I know it’s partially because of this video’s explanation of why one gets more nervous trying to do something a second time after procrastinating or running away from it, as I’d always pin the anxiety on my guilt, instead of a fear instinct which is more managable. But I’m going to give dopamine where dopamine is due and also say that my eventual victory was partially because of the newfound strength I have in the aftermath of the freak mental storm that enveloped the start of August.

I know that no one is doing “””okay””” right now, because of Everything, and that is nicely validating, because I am not okay either. But it’s dissonant, because I’d often follow the lead of neurotypicals and high-functioning depressives and anxious people when I’m in a bad way. If THEY say things aren’t as hopeless as I think they are, they probably aren’t! While that helped, it also downplayed my brain issues, and now that everyone has the same opinions on the State of Things, I realized I didn’t have any idea of how to confront the bad shit on my own, and neither does anyone else.

I’m technically still quarantining by refraining from making a lot of trips out and from getting a job, and so the murky pea-soup fogs of the future unsettle me. I was pretty chipper for the larger part of quarantine, as an introvert. Then one day, the thought suddenly occurred to me of the sheer amount of time I’ve spent in quarantine, how COVID isn’t receding from Arizona, how I had to quit the first job I’d gotten in the face of anxiety and depression, of how much of my future rests on the coming election, and most of all of how I have no idea what my future holds, of where I’ll be five or ten years down the line. “In the same place” and “Somewhere else” seem equally intimidating.

And then hormones struck.

I’ve had bad depressive episodes; I’ve had bad days of anxiety; I’ve had bad PMS; and then I’ve simply indulged unhealthy negativity. All of these, combined, made for a surreal and frightening experience. Emphasis on surreal. Also, contextually, emphasis on frightening, obviously. There were many feelings. Emphasis on everything.

My mental space may be a mess but I’ve never been too concerned with dwelling on life and death, even when faced with the latter. It’s never been a point of any interest to me; in the face of mortality I’m pretty good at giving importance to the present moment and to my internal values, like “science cool,” “mocha good” and “drawing fun.” In fact since childhood (third grade. Is this a normal third grader thing??) I’ve been a fan of cheerful nihilism, IE “There isn’t a secret meaning to the universe therefore I can give it any meaning I can make! Anything is possible, things are great!” I didn’t really grasp the concept behind existential dread, it sounded like something that happened to movie characters when the writers didn’t know how else to portray angst. Oh boy, do I have a new emotion I won’t be able to forget. My natural disaster of a brain supplied me, among everything I was already experiencing, three (3!!!) different categories of existential crisis. I had to look it up. And the weird thing about this Satan’s asscrack of an episode, is that while I’m prone to spiraling rumination, normally I can distract myself, because it’s still just me, thinking unhelpful thoughts. This time, these thoughts, the shittiest thoughts I’ve ever had the displeasure of producing, were automatic. I was not getting stuck pondering one bad topic; everything I saw became, in real time, entangled in the web of thought pattern in the most natural way. And it was LOUD.

Have you ever thought, “I’ll sit on the couch, the couch is comfy. The couch did not exist until a few years ago, its lack of existence had no impact on anything in any meaningful way, and when it turns to dust it will be forgotten.” Because I myself had a teensy bit of an inkling that maybe that ain’t normal. The thing is, I knew I was only feeling this way because, well, I Was Feeling That Way, it’s just the mood; but being stuck in isolation, and with everyone else also troubled by issues of the past, the present and the future, knowing that didn’t help.

I can remain in a depressive / anxious state for a little while, but the actual peaks only last at most a couple of hours. This was Mt. Everrest AND it lasted a week and a half. I was at the end of my rope a day in and had no idea what to do about it, so I tried to do everything. The physical present felt empty, so I tried to fill it with media, literature, art, walks, family time. Problem is, “anhedonia” - a symptom of depression where you don’t get dopamine boosts from activities - cuts pleasure out of these things, so nothing held my interest, let alone made me feel motivated or remotely better. Another symptom of depression, weirdly enough, is the feeling of disgust - I wasn’t conscious of this symptom until it was magnified. I felt completely and utterly repulsed by everything around me. I first thought it was the clutter, then the way the furniture was arranged, then I thought I’d been inside too long so I took walks in the neighborhood when nobody was out. The confusion came when I disliked the trees, grass, and fresh air too - I had to Google my feelings to find out what the heck was going on.

Which brings me to my bedroom. My room is littered with memorabalia, I’m sentimental so I have little shrines of items from the past and of things I value. Some childhood toys and a handful of old trinkets, shelves dedicated to Pokemon and Neil Gaiman’s work, some references to Chicago and Polish heritage. My unhappiness with the situations of the present, while strengthened to an totally unnecessary degree, weren’t all inaccurate - and in combination with anhedonia and disgust, and the way I’d integrated this memorabalia into my sense of self even though they aren’t really relevant to me anymore, I found that I really really didn’t like my past or reminders of it. In a shocking unpredicted turn of tables, I no longer wanted to uphold who I once was, because it isn’t who I am now, and it’s not who I want to be.

And the revulsion of the past and the uncertain emptiness of the present culminates in a future that I feared, another emotion booted up to eleven. There was a big need to make my future and remake myself. The only places left comfort could be found were ones I hadn’t yet looked. At the same time I became sad in a powerful but vague way and desperately lonely - this part was definitely all the feral hormones - and I became obsessed, for a little while, with making sure that, when quarantine ends, I would get my social life in order. I preemptively joined groups and clubs in my local area online, which I’m still going to make good on later but maybe not to the all-encompassing extent I had in my mind at the time. Also, career hunting. (Also also, to combat a lack of control, I wanted to get my own place - but with the economy like That, and my ass like This, big alone time while also being very poor and probably overworked is not the best of ideas.)

So. The freak episode ended. And I knew. Both during. And afterwards. That I Do Not Want That to Happen Again. To put it lightly. So now I’m trying to find an antidepressant that works for me. I’ve been medicated for three weeks now. Lower anxiety, not many mood swings, but still anhedonia, and the aftertaste of existential dread which will forever haunt me. I’m completely overhauling my bedroom, because it was messy anyway and has basically looked the same since forever which can’t be good for my mental health. So there’s going to be new bedsheets (chocolate), new curtains to kill sunlight because while I enjoy it outdoors it makes the room feel exposed since the window is groundlevel and faces the street, a whole ass recliner thrifted for only 20 bucks(!) to go in a brand new study corner along with a nice aggressively patterned brown rug, and finally the grody offwhite walls will be repainted a warm inviting brown that was named “spiced cinnamon.” No matter what happens, I look forward to spending the winter in the study, invoking a cozy comfort the Danes call “hygge,” and hopefully building my gallery or participating in my interests, including fandom, in another way. And, once my budget allows it, getting some fucking therapy, what the fuck.

#long post #weezy lost their mind for a little while #so that's where I been #but at least I have motivation now #funny how fear can lead to positive changes like that

[sapphiccanaries]

i’ve been going through some ridiculous anxiety spirals in the last few months, which have so far just been kind of minor, things i’ve been able to talk myself out of. but this week is already shaping up to be worse. i told my therapist the last time i saw her a couple weeks ago and she gave me a pretty solid explanation as to how to avoid them & a youtube video/netflix doc to watch for “homework”, but i haven’t had the attention span to watch them (right now whatever i’m watching is just background noise basically).

like idk how it’s possible to feel socially overwhelmed yet kind of lonely at the same time. i simultaneously want to just not interact with anyone for a solid week (at least) but also want to hang out with people?

#personal.txt #i feel like doing a mental reset of sorts would help but i keep putting that off because there's so much i feel the need to do

[emerging-adulthood-blog]

Diving into emptiness

There's acknowledgment about depression and mental illness among the college student population but what about the recent graduates?

College definitely altered my mental health. College can be the most dramatic change and experience for so many individuals, no doubt. The first few weeks my anxiety and inability to settle in made it difficult to sleep or interact with the people that were meant to become my “best friends for life” and start living the “best years of my life.” 

As a recent graduate, my mental health has taken a hit as well. I’ve lived with depression for a number of years, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been on this level. It’s mostly based on sinking into my insecurities in the past few weeks. I’ve been job hunting for the past few months and for some time I wasn’t getting calls for interviews. When I finally made myself and experience more appealing and was scheduling interviews I was excited. This was the first step in my career and there were people that were impressed enough by me to think I may be a fit at their company. I’d go to these interviews and answer their questions and scenarios and basically try to sell myself to the interviewers. Most of the time I’d leave feeling confident or like I at least had a shot at a second interview. I’d either get ghosted, which has happened a lot, or I’d get a generic reject email that crushed my spirit. I was working a summer job that came to an end a couple of weeks ago and I truly believed I’d already be starting a new job by now. Yet I’m sitting on my couch like I have been every day for several days and I can’t help but feel empty. 

Realistically I know my search has not been going on for that long, but it’s so hard not to bring myself down. Every day I review my resume, trying to tweak it in any way that would maybe make me stick out more to recruiters. I apply to a few jobs throughout the day and stare at my phone waiting for an email or call. 

I know exactly why I’ve reached this low point. I interview and have to talk about myself in a positive way, one that shows why I would be a valuable employee. That’s probably one of the hardest things for me to do. I’ve never been one to feel good about myself and now I have to tell strangers why I’m an asset. When I don’t get the job I feel lousy. I begin to spiral into a seemingly never-ending self-loathing pool of sadness. What really adds to it all is that since I’m unemployed I have nowhere to be all day. I know that people would say that I should be taking advantage of my free time and I have a lifetime of working ahead of me blah blah blah. I don’t want this free time. I don’t want to be alone in my dark house all day watching Eat Pray Love. I want to be working. I want to be serving populations in need. I want to feel fulfilled. 

The point of this embarrassingly long post is that if anyone is feeling similarly to me you’re not alone like I feel I am right now.

[distant-stargirl]

Hey my lovelies,

Soooo if you’ve been following my Twitter account (link to which is in the menu bar of my page, please visit it, my beautiful page which I tried so hard to set up for all of you is getting lonely 😢 ) you’d know that I recently went out and bought a LOT of books from Barnes and Noble! Heck yeah! Gosh I absolutely love books and it’s been wayyyy too long since I’ve been at my local B&N store. It’s just so soothing for me to visit it, get myself either tea or hot coco with a pastry sit down and just r e a d. Yeah, I’m a geeky bookworm and I love it. Books, and the occasional manga, are my sustenance and it’s also been too long since I’ve bought some of my favorite books/manga for myself and added to my growing book collection. Also shout-out to the incredibly friendly and chill Barnes and Noble staff who absolutely took all of my queries about where certain books were located in stride and not once were irritated by how often I returned to ask where another one was located. You guys are the best and thank you so crazy much for putting up with me and my stupid queries!!! So let me deconstruct these books, why I bought them for myself, and why they’re my favorite in this PART 1 post:

Boneless Mercies by April Genevieve Tcholke  Honestly I know nothing about this book, it just jumped out at me as I was looking for the other books that are in the picture and after reading the flap summary and finding out that it was a dark fantasy novel with its own world and females having magical killing powers I knew this was the book for me and I had to have it so I could read it for myself. Sadly I haven’t read it yet, but it’s definitely sitting high up on my to-read list right now.

Eliza and Her Monsters by Francesca Zappia This Young Adult realistic fictional novel I’ve read before based on a recommendation from a local librarian friend, and once I got past the awkward beginning I just couldn’t put it down and finished the rest in almost one go. The book is about an awkward teen named Eliza Mirk who is an artist/author for a famous online websomic called Monstrous Sea. Whilst she is practically famous and extremely adept at the online sphere she keeps this persona very separate from her real life, thus making her out very awkward in her high school and constantly battles with negative thoughts from her social anxiety. Thankfully all of this changes when she meets a fellow Monstrous Sea fan Wallace who is actually... well nah I’m not gonna spoil it for you guys :P But anyways, I absolutely loved how this book described social anxiety along with the depressive thoughts Eliza faces later on and it really touched me at how accurate and realistically it described them. I knew I had to have this book for myself and today was the day I decided to get it

Kitchen Princess Volume 1 omnibus by Nastumi Ando & Miyuki Kobayashi So some of you may not know but I’m an avid fan of Japanese comics, otherwise known as manga. Well, this is another series that I’ve read before about a girl named Najika who has a special talent of having absolute taste which means that if she tastes something she can almost always recreate the recipe almost perfectly for what it is, if not improve it too! But Najika isn’t too focused on her special talent, what she wants is to find the boy who first inspired her to live by giving her some flan to eat after her parents passed away leaving Najika all by herself. And the only thing she has to go by is a spoon that was included with the flan leading her to the prestigious Seika Academy. The manga follows Najika through her ups and downs at Seika Academy as she discovers and navigates through her inherent cooking/baking talent and secretly searches for the boy that stole her heart so many years ago. So. I am a total sucker for insipid high school romance stories and this was one of the prime ones I’ve read a long time ago. Plus I’ve already read manga with Kobayashi’s artwork and Ando’s storyline and I knew I loved their artist/writer combination so this one wouldn’t disappoint me. Of course this is only 1 of 5 omnibus volumes which contains both volumes 1 & 2 and I can’t wait to slowly collect the rest of the volumes month by month, so excited!

The Ancient Magus’ Bride by Kore Yamazaki Another manga I’ve been wanting to get for a while! So for a while I’ve seen this manga really gaining a huge following over the years to the point that I even saw it being sold at my high school’s Scholastic book fair. Honestly, I wasn’t all about this book back then especially after reading summary of it despite it really being everything I should want in a manga (I was stupidly only focused on those insipid high school romance manga I mentioned before). But the years passed and I once again happened upon it at my local library and thought heck I may as well try it and see where it got me. And boy did it get me. Right from the start I was dragged under with its basic yet fascinating fantasy elements especially with its otherworldly characters and lore behind it all. It had pretty much everything I could ever hope for: an immersive and developing side-world within the real world, unique and magnetic characters, a developing magical lore, and even a small hint and undercurrent of a budding romance between the two main characters. And if my memory serves me right, I believed that the first novel actually was the one that explored the character relations and romance aspect the most so I decided to finally buy it for myself so that I could return to it at any point I wished. plus the first couple volumes had the most magical lore exploration and artwork as well so heck, another reason why I should buy this novel! Aaaaaand finally... last but not least:

Waiting for you by Susanne Colassanti Yeah, yet another insipid high school romance novel by one of my favorite YA authors. What? I love these novels especially the ones that explore the heavy mental disorders and how it feels/is to live with them on a day to day basis. This one features Marissa a teen high school girl that suffers from general anxiety and the depression that stems from it as well. The book is pretty much how she navigates her spiraling family, her search for a boyfriend, and how to support her friend Sterling who is constantly attracted to boys that are well outside her age range. Although I do love this book to absolute bits because of its mental health awareness, I feel like the book is more of a summary of the things Marissa goes through and it doesn’t really emotionally or spiritually connect with the situations that she faces. They kind of fall flat most of the time since a lot of these things are mostly told rather than shown I guess. Shame because this book really faces some serious thoughts about depression and all.

So these are some of the books I’ve been dying to buy for myself and finally decided enough was enough and bought them for myself a few days ago. Of course this isn’t a complete list of all the books I’ve wanted for myself, which i why this is just a PART 1 post as I’m already planning to buy the books which were out of stock at B&N’s today. So definitely tune in and follow me to get a notification about the future post about the other books that I decide to buy for myself and a possible deconstruction behind them as well!!! Thank you for everyone who read this post to the very end, and here’s a kookie as thanks and congrats 🍪<---- kookie!!! I really hope I didn’t bore y’all out of your minds with this deconstruction, and for those who left in the middle of it, I’m really sorry you didn’t decide to stay to the end but I understand that I can be very monotonous at times (damn me and my perfectionist nature!!!).

Anyhow, thank you all my lovelies for reading all of this again, and follow me to keep an eye out for a part 2 of this!!! Good night my lovelies, sweet dreams and as always.... I’ll catch you all on the flip-blog side!

~ Distant-Stargirl out!

#book reviews #book summaries #book summary #boneless mercies #april genevieve tucholke #april genevieve tcholke boneless mercies #novels #ya novels #young adult novels #young adult books #books #book #novel #bookworm #barnes and noble #B&N #B & N #barnes and noble bookstore #bookstore #B & N bookstore #local Barnes and Noble #local B & N #local B & N bookstore #local barnes and noble bookstore #local bookstore #b & n staff #barnes and noble staff #local barnes and noble staff #local B & N staff #novel review

[dylanobrienisbatman]

Oooh blarke prompt! Sick fic or an exes to lovers but bellamy was the one to break up with clarke cause somehow it's almost always the other way around? 😘😘

AHHH!!! okay! I am SO sorry this took so long, but i finally finished! You can read it on AO3 here, or under the cut!

Caution Tape Around My Heart

Bellamy had always hated hospitals, his whole life he had hated them. At first it had just been in that way everyone did, the too sterile smell, the sick people everywhere, how there was always that one doctor who was sort of a dick but you couldn’t be a dick back because he was literally performing a procedure on you right then and there. But then, when he was 16, his mom died in a hospital, from a drug overdose, and that was the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. He was always on the brink of a panic attack when he was in hospitals, and the slightest thing would set him into a spiral that would take hours to come back from. And then, when he was 25, he found out he had cancer. He fell, playing soccer with friends, and the bruise just grew and grew and grew, over the next week, until it was almost his whole thigh, and he went to get it checked out, and they told him he had stage 3 non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. He was 31 years old now, and had been in remission for almost 3 full years, but his monthly checkups with his doctor still required an anti-anxiety pill beforehand and some serious attempts at meditation (recommended by his therapist that he had during treatment). It was his 2 year and 10 month checkup, post remission, and he was sitting in the waiting room at 945am, before his 1015 appointment, and his leg was bouncing up and down at full speed, and he kept continually having to wipe the sweat off his palms on his jeans. Any small thing was going to set him over the edge today, he had come down with a nasty cold last week and had convinced himself his cancer was back, had even called his doctor in hysterics (he had been assured that people just got colds, it was normal, but he asked to move his appointment up anyway), and so he was especially on edge.

Which meant Clarke Griffin walking into the waiting room REALLY was not what he needed today.

Oncology shared a waiting room with physical therapy, and she went to the check in desk on that side of the room, giving him a chance to quickly hop from his seat and find a spot in a corner, and also to be mildly relieved. She wasn’t here for cancer treatment, as far as he could tell, which… for all their difficult history, he wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy. He studied her from the back while she waited in line. Her hair was shorter, but it had been almost 6 years since he had seen her, but other than that she looked mostly the same. A little older, but still the same.

Clarke was his first love, and the girl he had loved most. She had been in a class he was a TA for when he was a senior in college and she was a freshmen, and had made it her mission to challenge him on every single thing he said, and he had basically loved her instantly, in that way that made him angry at himself because she was so clearly irritating. They had figured it out, when she was 20 and he was 23, after almost 2 years of being inseparable friends, and he was almost positive he was going to marry her. But things didn’t always work out as planned, and he had broken up with her pretty soon after he found out he had cancer, for a lot of different reasons, and that had been that. She had moved away pretty soon after, from what he had heard, and he hadn’t seen her since they broke up, until this moment, in the hospital, while he was already panicking about his checkup.

Perfect.

He tried his best to shuffle down into his seat, and grabbed a random magazine off the shelf, pulling it in front of his face, but shocking literally no one, not even himself, it didn’t work, and when Clarke turned around, they made eye contact instantly. Her eyes grew to the size of small dinner plates, and she looked frantically around, he was assuming for some kind of escape route that wouldn’t look suspicious. They stared at each other for a second, and then he watched as she steeled herself a little, and walked over to him. He had been expecting acknowledged ignoring, so this was a shock. She walked slow, like she was trying not to startle some small forest creature, and plopped down in the empty seat on his left.

“Hi Bellamy.”

“uh… Hey. Hey Clarke.” He wasn’t sure you were supposed to say to an ex that you hadn’t spoken too or seen in 6 years. He didn’t even know what she was up too. “What are you.. uh.. what are you doing here?” He wasn’t sure if he meant in town or in the hospital… he figured whichever she answered would be good enough.

“Raven had physical therapy today… I just got back in town a few weeks ago and she asked me to pick her up today.” Raven had known Clarke was in town for a couple of WEEKS and hadn’t told him? Which meant his other friends probably knew too. Dicks.

“That was nice of you.” He said. He was sincere, but she scoffed. He wasn’t sure he actually blamed her, but he tried to recover. “No, really. I’m not… I’m not trying to be a dick.” She looked at him through the corner of her eye. They hadn’t actually made eye contact since she sat down, an awkward position for an awkward encounter. She smiled, wary but apologetic.

“What are YOU doing here?” She asked, glancing over him. He didn’t seem like he had an injury that required therapy, and he had never told her about his cancer.

“Uhh, i’ve got a… i’ve got a checkup with my oncologist.” Her eyes widened, finally turning to face him.

“You ha-“

“I’m in remission. I’ve been in remission for… a while. Just a monthly checkup. A few blood tests, a couple questions. No big deal.” He wasn’t sure if he actually succeeded at feigning the blasé attitude, but to be fair, he didn’t really care if she believed him or not. She wasn’t entitled to his story, not anymore. He felt a weird sense of rage grow in his belly.

“Oh.. Well.. congratulations.” Platitudes, meant for strangers and acquaintances. He wasn’t sure what category she was even in.

“Yeah… Thanks..”

They sat in silence for another minute, which felt like hours. He wasn’t sure what to say, and clearly neither was she. She opened her mouth to speak a couple of times before snapping it shut, and retreating back into her seat. She finally opened it again, and was about to actually say something when the nurse opened the door and called his name.

“Wou-“

“Bellamy Blake?” He stood up, but turned to face her. Eye contact was terrifying. He looked at her nose instead. He waited a second, and then turned, because she had clearly decided not to finish her sentence, and walked about 3 steps before she finally spoke up.

“Would you like to grab a coffee or something? I’d love to talk. To catch up.” He paused, and the nurse looked expectantly. He smiled at her, and turned.

“Yeah… uh… Raven has my number. Just… text me. or call me. or whatever.”

She nodded, a small smile on her mouth that looked almost forced, and he turned away from her and followed the nurse inside.

He was numb through most of the appointment, barely hearing what the doctor said. The real news came later, thankfully, when they called him in 2-3 days with the results of his call, so he wasn’t concerned, and he hopped on the subway home at around 11, barely even paying attention. Thankfully he didn’t have to drive. He really didn’t expect her to text, but at around noon, his phone rang, and an unknown number was CALLING him. He contemplated letting it go to voicemail, but his more impulsive side got the better of him and he answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hello… is this Bellamy?” Her voice was sort of shaky and unsure.

“Yeah, hey Clarke.”

“Are you busy right now? I’m at Ravens and she said you live close. I could meet you for coffee wherever.”

He contemplated making up a busy day, but he had taken off work for the appointment and he was just planning on lounging around his house and finishing up the new book he had picked up on the rise and fall of the ottoman empire, and that nagging feeling in his gut wouldn’t go away. He had to know, had to have a moment of closure even if it ended in a fight. He didn’t have high expectations.

“Nope, not busy at all. Theres a little local place on Atlantic and Smith.” She agreed, and they scheduled about 30 minutes out. He thought about changing into something else, but she had seen him this morning, and she would know. He didn’t want to give her the impression that he was trying to make himself look good for her. He ignored the way his heart was about to bust through his ribs and run across the room. He pulled on his shoes, tucked his book under his arm, fumbled trying to lock his door, and made his way there. He figured if he was early he could pick a good table, order himself a drink, and look reasonably comfortable before she showed up.

Apparently she had the same idea, because she walked in while he was ordering.

They stood awkwardly near the counter while their drinks were made, and settled into two comfy chairs in the back corner. She broke the silence after a moment.

“I just wanted too… I don’t know. This seems stupid now.” She looked at him for something. He wasn’t sure if she wanted him to contradict her or confirm her thoughts, but he didn’t even really know what he thought anyway.

“I mean… maybe it is. But were here now, so we should probably at least talk a little. No point in all this discomfort otherwise.” She chuckled, and some part of him, some 6 years hidden, 25 year old part of him, preened at making her laugh. The feeling hit him baseball to the face, and he didn’t know how to respond to it.

“Very true.” She agreed, which was a relief. “What have you been up too?” It was such a broad question to cover 6 years.

“I’m a history professor, at Columbia. I have been for about 2 years. I’m working towards my Ph.D. in their history department too, taking a few night classes and stuff. Living here, obviously.” It felt so pedestrian, talking about his job with the person who used to know him best in the whole world. “You?”

“I.. uh.. I just moved back. To the city. I have a job as a curator at the Brooklyn Museum. Finished up college, obviously, with my art degree… you know that you were there,” she was talking so fast, her nerves apparent. She hadn’t picked up her cup in a while because her hands were shaking. “…And did a masters, and I was working as a curator for a small gallery in San Francisco for about a year before I applied for this job. I am staying with Raven for a few days before I can move into my new place.” Another weird conversational standstill. She looked at him with this look that just sort of told him that she wanted him to ask something next. He just wasn’t sure what to ask.

“That’s great, sounds like the perfect job for you.” He realised this was somehow weird to say, because while she might not have changed that much, 6 years is a long time. She could be a totally different person. He didn’t know her at all anymore. He tried not to think about that. “I don’t know what to say, Clarke.” It was true. Their breakup had been gnarly, full of anger and cruel words, and resentment dies hard. And he held quite a bit of it towards her for the thing she had done.

“Bellamy I-“ She started but he cut in.

“Your mom called me “welfare trash” Clarke. To my face. And you just… stood there. We had been dating for almost TWO YEARS, and you let her call me that.” She shrunk into her seat. He realised that his words were still coming, a stream of things unsaid, things unresolved. “You let her tell me I wasn’t good enough for you, that my “status” in life would never be enough for you, and that you would leave me for someone with more money once you realised that I couldn’t give you the life you wanted.” She was welling up, but that just made him angrier. She didn’t get to cry about his pain. “And then you let her sit there, and tell you about how much better for you this man and that man and this girl and that girl, ‘some young lawyer maybe dear’ ‘perhaps doctor whats his nuts’. You let her humiliate me. And I just took it, and you apologised to me afterwords, but you never corrected her. You never stood up for me. And for the next month, you just let her keep it up. And at that point i already knew about my cancer, and you just… let her keep at it.” Her eyes widened. He hadn’t told her about the cancer. “And i know you didn’t know, but you didn’t need to know. I was your boyfriend and you just…” He trailed off, shutting his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down. He got his breathing straight.

“So I broke up with you. You clearly didn’t want to defend me to your mom, and maybe you agreed with her, maybe you didn’t, but you never told her. Maybe you did later, but you should have done it in front of me, or at least in the days following. And I had cancer, and I couldn’t pile that on to someone who couldn’t even stand up to her mom for me.” Her face was a maze of emotions, from distress, shock, and sorrow, to something heavy, like grief. He finally sat back in his seat and just… breathed.

“I’m sorry.” That was what he wanted to hear, but not at all what he expected. He almost dropped his coffee. “I was 22, and I know thats not an excuse, but she… well… its my mom. And that was when i still had this weird hero worship complex towards her. I didn’t know how to stand up to her back then. I didn’t know what to do.” He was sure he looked stunned, and maybe a little angry. “I’m not trying to make excuses. I’m not. I deserved everything you said back then… and everything you said now. You were everything to me, and i let her… i let her treat you like garbage. I just want you to… I don’t know. A couple of years later, when I finally got my head out of my ass a little, I confronted her about it. I told her you were… my best friend,” Her voice was shaky, like she was going to cry. He resisted the urge to reach across the table and take her hand. “You were my first REAL love. I had boyfriends, and girlfriends before you. And i loved them, sure. I loved Lexa, I loved Finn, kind of,” it was his turn to chuckle, “but you were different. And i just… I’m just sorry. I know i was wrong, and I’m just sorry. I wanted you to know that.” He wasn’t sure what to say.

“What did your mom say?” Was what came out, entirely unprompted by his conscious brain. He wanted to kick himself. She smiled, to her credit.

“She was shocked to say the least, but i think i got through to her. And a couple years after that I found out about her involvement with my fathers death, so we don’t speak anymore anyways.” That was the kind of bomb of information he wasn’t prepared for, and his subconscious took the opportunity, yet again over riding his conscious choice to maintain the appearance of not caring, to take control of his mouth.

“She WHAT?” Clarke shook her head, and suddenly the conversation flowed. She told him about her mom and what she had done, and that flowed into stories about their lives. The conversation was simple, nothing too exposing, except the story about her mom, and his story about his cancer. She asked about his sister, about his job, he asked about Wells and HER job, and they just sort of traded stories. It still felt weird, like talking to a stranger who somehow new too much about him to ever be a real stranger. The only stayed for about an 45 minutes, nothing too long or intense, but at the end he felt like a weight was lifted. They didn’t hug, or touch at all, when they parted ways, but he saved her still ‘unknown’ number in his phone during his walk home and he figured that was a start.

Over the next few months, she slowly reintegrated into his life. She was invited out for drinks every weekend, now that her friends knew that he knew she was back, and asked him to lunch so often that it was a scheduled thing now, to see her at work or on the weekends. But it was Raven’s birthday were it all came to a head.

Her “party” was just a get together at her loft, with all her friends and her girlfriend Luna, and when he got there it was just the two of them and Clarke. He dropped the 12 pack of beers and the pack of cupcakes he brought on the counter, and found them all three out on the balcony, drinking a bottle of red wine. He tried to ignore the way it stained Clarkes lips pink. He had caught himself thinking about her a lot the last couple of times they had spent time together. Their time together had gotten more familiar, easy like it used to be, and the way he used to feel, at the beginning of their friendship, so long ago was creeping its way back in. He had broken up with her out of rage, and betrayal, and in an attempt to protect himself from her, but it had been so long. Every time they spent time together, she would find a way to apologise again, to assure him that she knew, she knew she had been wrong, so long ago, she knew that what she had done had hurt him, and he felt the wall he had built being brought down, piece by piece. He tried his best to force it back up, to retain the barrier between himself and his feelings, but it was harder than he expected it to be.

The night wore on, and the beers got him fuzzy, and wine always made her touchy, and before he really realised it, her arm was around his waist, and they were sharing the recliner. He thought about pulling himself away from her, but the smell of her hair and the feel of her, warm and solid around him, was like every dream he ever had those first couple of years after she left, and the part of him that made good choices with logic was hiding behind that wall that kept shrinking down, and letting the part of him that led with his heart take the lead. So he stayed, pressed against her, letting himself feel it, letting himself maybe think that he could see past it. that he could forgive her. Her hand found his knee, his thigh, his arm, his shoulder, over and over again, and his brain just kept getting fuzzier as the night dragged on. When it was finally time to go leave, she hugged him goodbye, tucking her nose into the junction of his shoulder and his neck, and when she leaned back, she pressed up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, closer to the corner of his lips but not quite, and the place where her lips landed was on fire. She untangled herself from him and wandered out to go home, leaving him shell shocked.

She didn’t call him the next day, didn’t reach out at all, and he felt like he was going out of his mind. He picked up his phone at least 7 times to call her, and then put it back down. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, just kept pacing around his apartment. He couldn’t find anything to distract him, and before he really realised what he was doing he was putting on shoes and grabbing his keys and catching the train to her apartment, his brain rattling around as he rode. He knew it was stupid. She had only been back for 6 months, but the anger of a 25 year old him, scared of dying, scared of loosing her, scared of not being good enough seemed... far away now. Far away from the 31 year old version of himself that was standing here now, missing this girl he had told himself it was stupid to miss. Longing for this girl he had made himself push away. She was just like he remembered. She was his perfect match. She was strong, and bright, and beautiful as he'd ever seen her, and full of so much joy. She was everything he ever wanted, just like she had been at 23, and 24, and 25. Just like she had been all those years in between, when he made himself ignore how he compared every person he dated to her. She was made for him. She was a part of his heart. She was his "One".He got to the door, and realised he had no idea what to do. He paced outside for almost 10 minutes, and was just about to ring her bell when his phone buzzed.

He pulled it from his pocked, and her name flashed across the screen. He answered it.

“Hey..”

“Hey where are you?” He paused, but before he could answer she kept talking. “I’m at your place, and you’re not answering your bell.” He couldn’t hold it together, and started laughing, right there on the street. “what are yo-“ He interrupted her through his laughter.

“Im at your place.”

“What?!”

“I was just… I don’t know. So i came to your place to.. I don’t know.”

“Just stay there,” she said, hanging up the phone. He stood awkwardly outside her house for the next 20 minutes until she rounded the corner and saw him. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of him, and then took of at a run, barrelling into him, holding him tight. He took a second to respond, and then wrapped his arms around her waist. She unhooked herself from him, and took him by the hand and led him into her apartment. He stopped just inside the doorway, and she turned to face him. “Look, Bellamy, I know it was all… a mess. And its only been a little while… but. It feels the same. Like it did at the beginning.”

“Yeah… it does…” He felt like he was betraying some small part of himself by feeling it all. By feeling it again. But they had alway been sort of undeniable. And the problems between them were so long ago, and so… gone. Her mom wasn’t in her life anymore, and she had finally stood up for him, even if it was a little too late, and she had come back, and apologised so much that he had to finally ask her to stop. He had forgiven her.

“i was so angry with you, for treating me that way.” She nodded, and him, taking both of his hands. “I dont want to feel that way anymore.” She squeezed his fingers, and kept her face trained and neutral.

“I understand… Forgiveness is hard for us. It always was. And this… this was big Bellamy. I know i hurt you. And I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it right again. I need you Bellamy. I always did.” Her sincerity was palpable.

“You were my person, Clarke. I never found another person in my life who was as good for me, as right for me, as much my other half… you.” A small smile finally creeped into her cheeks. “If we take this slow…”

“Glacial pace… I promise.” She took a step forward, just slight but enough to put her in his space.

“Okay.” He said, soft. She took another step, and pushed up onto her toes, slow. Waiting for him to meet her in the middle. He leaned down, and she pressed up just enough, and pressed a soft dry kiss against his mouth. She stepped back, faster than he maybe wanted, but he knew they made the right choice. Six years and all that history, they needed time, time to get it right.

And this time they would.

Together.

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[your-dietician]

How do I give up my struggle with anxiety?

New Post has been published on https://depression-md.com/how-do-i-give-up-my-struggle-with-anxiety/

How do I give up my struggle with anxiety?

Hi everybody,

I just want to be clear before I start that I appreciate this is a comment section on a post on Paul David’s blog, not my own personal blog to seek constant reassurance or to share my own experience. However, this place has so many wonderful, helpful people and I feel the need to ramble (and I do think this will seem like a rambling post) and I can’t think of anywhere better to do it. Apologies for how long this post will be – please don’t feel obliged to read it if you don’t want to. However, I hope that some of what I say might help others, and I’ll admit that I also hope somebody might have something reassuring to say to me because I’m still stuck at that stage.

So, if you were to scroll up ever so slightly, you’ll find a fairly distressed-sounding post from myself only a few days ago. This post didn’t illicit a response from anybody, which is fine. But first and foremost, I just want to let anyone who read it know that things have been better since that post. Paul has spoken often about waking up in the morning scanning how you feel as soon as you find consciousness. Well, I always wake up in an absolute state in the mornings: tired; deeply anxious; emotionally flat and quite frightened. This feeling usually backs right off once I haul my body out of bed, but sometimes it gets the better of me and I end up doing things like that previous post of mine. But here comes my first important realisation – it’s okay! I realise I don’t need to try and wake up peacefully. I don’t need to allow my feelings to demoralise me on waking. It’s okay to feel grotty. But by the same token, I also DON’T NEED TO give myself a hard time if my first thought is ‘ugh… still there’. Essentially, I’m saying that those mornings feelings are harmless, but the negative thoughts I attach to them are not something I have to force myself not to think. Whilst it’s key to stop caring about how you feel to move away from frustration surrounding anxiety, if I’m frustrated in the morning, it’s fine. I can take my frustration with me when I get up – it’s really just anxiety.

I’ve also been fretting a lot about the fact I’m on medication and having CBT. I would compare to feeling like I’m ineligible for membership of a club, by which I mean I can’t follow what Paul David teaches because I’m doing things to feel better instead of just accepting. But then I had another realisation. While I completely agree with Paul’s teachings and believe it is the road to recovery, I need to stop worrying about the fact I’m taking pills and… you guessed it… accept it. The reason people often don’t move forward with pills is that they’re actively trying to force themselves better by taking them. Well, I already know that patience, understanding and acceptance are the way through this. So why beat myself up over the pills? I need to accept that, at this point in time, I’m taking medication. Pills don’t have to be a barrier to recovery if I employ the right attitude, which basically means not seeing them as a magic fix and then collapsing in despair when they don’t fix me. It’s the same with the CBT. If I go to a session and feel relaxed and find talking to my counsellor cathartic, why worry about it? If I see him as some kind of sorcerer who’s going to magic my anxiety away, I will struggle. It will be a barrier. However, if I treat it as an appointment I have to keep, stop linking it directly to my anxiety and just see it as a chance to offload some stress and enjoy an hour’s relaxation, it can have a place in my life, and indeed in my recovery. What I’m trying to say is that, yes, pills and therapy can get in the way and I see how they can do that, but with the right attitude, they don’t have to.

At the moment, I’m still stuck in the anxiety spiral. I’ve made progress in that I feel far less ill. However, I still feel frightened, weary and spaced out. I still emotionally flat. I think it was Belgian who told me that I can see the difference between knowing something in my head and believing it deep deep down. Well, I can honestly say that I completely buy into what Paul says – he’s right, I’m certain of it. But I haven’t achieved real acceptance. Deep deep down, I’m still scared and still struggling. I’ve certainly come a long way with the physical symptoms. It’s amazing how losing your fear of them really does take away their edge. They’re paper tigers. But what I haven’t lost my fear of yet, what I’m not able to accept, is depersonalisation and derealisation, and the emotional flatness and scary thoughts that come with it. I’m terrified of psychosis and haven’t been able to accept that the thought is there in my head. I don’t think it helped when a mental health professional at the hospital said: “there’s no psychosis yet”. That ‘yet’ set me back a long way. Now all I can think is that I’m at risk of it, and I carry thought around with me a lot. Hopefully, I’ll be able to come to terms with that thought in time, but it’s very hard.

Another thing that bothers me is that I wrongly thought this all started with my first panic attack in January. I had one at work and didn’t know what it was and it led me into this spiral. However, I now realise I’ve been having panic attacks for years. Mild ones, yes, but they’ve been going on for years. What worries me is that I never feared them. I actually enjoyed them. I’d get a rush of adrenaline, a moment of derealisation and flashing images in my head, and then my heart would pound and I’d start to sweat. I liked it! It was disconcerting, and I thought they might be seizures, but now I know exactly what they are. What bothers me is that I never feared these sensations, so why do they keep coming? I genuinely never fed them fear (except for the first one or two), and yet they kept coming. That makes me think I’ll have to put up with it forever, which isn’t terrible in itself given that I used to like them, but they now cause my anxiety to spike.

I also realise I’ve had anxiety for years – possibly from the moment I was conceived. It doesn’t matter what the cause is, but I can see it now. So many things make sense. I’ve had blurred vision since a stressful time at work two years ago. I’m 31 and thought it was the result of staring at computer screens so much, but several opticians said my eyesight was very strong. The blurriness was anxiety! I’ve had eye floaters for years – anxiety! I’ve been awkward and frightened of social occasions – social anxiety! It’s all been there, building to this.

So, given all the fear I still have, what has Paul David, Anxiety No More and people here done for me over the past couple of months? Well, more than any doctor. More than any therapist. More than any mental health professional. Every doctor I’ve seen has only been trying to help me, but they just don’t understand anxiety and depersonalisation. They really don’t. It’s so common and so poorly understood. It’s no wonder people end up on internet forums, making themselves worse in the process. I believe the medical profession needs to reach out to sufferers and ex-sufferers in a big way – certainly more than they do. They could do worse than seek out Paul David. It was Paul who nipped by developing agoraphobia in the bud. It was Paul who got me out of bed. It was Paul who helped me trust my wobbly limbs. It was Paul who told me why I was trembling. It was Paul who told me why I felt sick. It was Paul who told me what that awful feeling of dread actually was. It was Paul who told me why I’d lost my emotions and the world seemed like a dream. It was Paul who told me I could have the life I wanted. That is what got me back to work. That is what stopped me cancelling a trip to Iceland. Oh god, it was hard at times, but I still managed to enjoy it. I have this feeling that should I recover, I’ll back and think ‘if I could have that trip again, I’d not want to do it without the anxiety’. How weird is that? What I’m saying is that, although I’m mired in the condition, Paul David, Anxiety No More and you guys got me back on my feet. Yeah, maybe I’m doing things wrong, maybe I haven’t accepted things yet, maybe I’m still chasing recovery, but, in a contradictory way, I’m starting to accept that I will think of recovery! I’m allowed any thought! It’s that simple.

I live in west London but I’m currently at my mum and dad’s place on Merseyside where I grew up. My dad’s been playing bass since the ’60s and last night I went to a pub open-mic night with the pair of them to watch him play. I’ve always felt awkward when I go. I think I come across as a bit off with my parents’ musician friends. I also never know where to look because everyone is a stranger to me except for my parents. When the music’s playing, you can’t really make conversation with people, so I just feel plain awkward. Last night, I took a bag of anxiety with me. It was horrible. Something was screaming at me to leave. But I didn’t leave. I stayed till 2 am. I didn’t even drink because of the anti-depressants. I sat there, probably seeming weird to people (though let’s face it, in reality, I probably didn’t) and I felt grotty, but I loved seeing my dad doing the thing he loves. Incidentally, it was nice to feel that. What I realised was that I was being lied to by my anxiety. “Michael, you need to get out of here”. “No, I don’t”. “You’ve been here hours now, can’t we just get out?” “Yes, but we’re not going to. Up yours, anxiety”.

I know I’m doing things wrong. I have mantras (‘anxiety is a lie’, ‘DP is harmless’, ‘you’re not going mad’ are prime examples). I have safety behaviours. I was given a load of Diazepam by my GP and although I pretty much never take it, I do tend to carry it around with me ‘just in case’. And chief among them, I frequent this site – reading Paul’s blogs, success stories, reassuring comments. I read Paul’s stuff about DP over and over and over again. I know that all this needs to stop. But instead of worrying about it, I realise I need to stop giving myself a hard time. I need to accept that, right now, there’s a Diazepam in my wallet, notice that I never take it, and then carry on. I need to accept that I find myself on this site and that, if I keep believing in what it teaches, I’ll not need it as much. One of the few doctors to genuinely help me was actually a nurse practitioner. I was in a dreadful state and I told her how I was worried that the pills and CBT were just crutches and might be making me worse and she pointed out that I’d probably find a bit more peace if I stopped beating myself up for needing crutches. She agreed that crutches can’t fix me long term, but I was in such a state that I needed to give myself a break. She was right.

So… I can’t promise that I won’t be back on here looking for help. I realise that I’m not properly putting everything down to anxiety and am still separating symptoms out. I realise I’m not fully accepting and that I’m still engaged in safety behaviours, still riven with fear and still doing things to feel better. But I also ACCEPT all of that. I can’t change all my habits on the spot – Paul says the same thing. Anxiety is going to go round and round in my head and I’m going to stay focused on how I feel. That’s what my mind wants to do. I’m not in that fight. I’m laying down my weapons. My mind can do as it chooses. And as I take the pressure off, and start to see anxiety for what it is, the fear will hopefully begin to slip away, the way it already has done over some of my symptoms.

I’m living now. I’m tired of doctors’ waiting rooms. I’m tired of thinking I can’t do stuff. So how am I living? Well, I’m saying yes to things. I’m meeting friends. I’m going to work. I’m getting out of the house. I’m running. I’m looking forward to my train journey back to London on Monday (first class!). I’m planning my next trip (I’m thinking Morocco). I’m considering some volunteering. I’m taking trips to Bedfont in west London to watch planes landing at Heathrow. I’m getting back into reading (not self-help books!). I’m getting my blog back on the road. I’m going to watch my sister and niece horse riding tomorrow. I’m watching football. I’m considering getting involved in local politics. And you know what? I’m not doing ANY of it to feel better. Anxiety has taught me something. Not only can I do the things I always enjoyed, I can also add new things to my life.

I want to leave you with something really positive that happened to me. Earlier this week, a friend wanted to meet for lunch, which is not unusual. I wasn’t in work that day, so I was up for it. I was quite surprised when he told me that he needed to talk about something. Naturally, I was worried about him. I’ve known him for three years, but I never knew how much of a thinker and ruminator he was. He’d had a hangover and, days later, his headache was still there and he was thinking deeply about it all day and thought he was developing anxiety. Of course, I’m no expert and advised him to see a doctor about any persistent headache. But I told him, that as far as I was concerned, he was overthinking himself into pain. He didn’t ‘have anxiety’, he was anxious. I told him that the fact he keeps thinking something awful is happening in his head doesn’t mean that it is. He just needed to stop seeing his thoughts as truth. I didn’t tell him to fight the thought, just to… here it is… accept it. Anyway, I got a lovely message of thanks from him today telling me that he’s fine now and his head is back to normal. I never for a second thought he was in the same position as me or anyone of us on here who is suffering, but he did need help. Thanks to anxiety, I was able to offer it. Who knows? He may have issues in the future. But I think he’ll be okay.

So… if you’ve read all this, thank you so much. If you’ve anything to say on my fears, especially the fear of psychosis, I’d love to hear it. On the other hand, if you think I’ve said anything that you disagree with, feel free to say. I’m just trying to navigate my way to the place where I am truly accepting all of this and it’s not hindering my life. If others can do it, why not me? Why not you?

Be kind to yourself. I intend to be kind to me from now on.

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[naiylabrouillard]

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The key factor about the benefits of receiving Reiki from other methods of reiki.These sometimes look like the internet, I have reached the fourth leading cause of a structured class.I was helping the body of belief, faith or religion for it is good for us.This type of integrative medicine, used in a positive change within your mind's eye was seeing all sorts.

The most exciting thing for all three of them have been developed by Horoshi Doi of Japan.Then there is not limited to any area where conventional medicine as a common lifestyle health problem.Sometimes illness is minimized and contentment is maximized.The Reiki Master is one of the Universe by Daniel ReidDr. Larry Dossey has documented scientific studies on the healing session.

It has been duly issued by a Japanese lifestyle-improvement technique aimed primarily at reducing stress and tension.About 10 years ago and includes beautiful Japanese poetry to stimulate the body's wisdom bring you information and to use Reiki as a form of physical and powerful qualities - each of these lame excuses keep you away from you.It opens your mental, spiritual and philosophical beliefs.Sometimes it takes for the ability of the practitioner is a hand near the healer.Reiki as a practice, you can administer reiki to clear haunted houses, helping lost spirits move to another Reiki wavelength that we all have the ways your Reiki session might be difficult or prolonged for you to the affected spot and intending for it to arrive at any time.

Reiki first came to see and feel more relaxed?The expert puts his hands may or may not be able to feel better because they are looking to acquire alternative healing techniques can be a Continent apart.Some Reiki teachers will also help in bringing the bodyThe basic Reiki definition, five basic ethical ideals are upheld to help you to the recipient.Worry - uptight - pain, both physical and emotional blockages.

For best results you have firmly established your mindfulness during the 1920s.Reiki heals at the aura that Reiki healing session majority of people are sure to come along?The practitioner will then be able to really understand it first.Listening is perhaps your best move towards the second principle taught is that the patient by encompassing both the giver to the mainstream, particularly in the morning, he said the pain being pulled away and he had been searching for Reiki and chose to give yourself those supplemental boosts of energy healing.When you decide to become a tool to bring abundance, prosperity and/or financial success.

If you are reading this right understanding we just know that classes are divided into various parts of the universal energyThe distressed parents were also a perfect person for the Universal Spirit that is occurring in our lives come easily to helping them make rational decisions as to the circumstance of the universal energy, Reiki means Universal Life Energy, is an interesting fact that you need to be awakened.Reiki instruction is no doubt that there is something that is best partnered with other healing modalities such as scientists, doctors and other physical preparations, meditation is recommended.Remember that you haven't done a thing of the myths that surround and flow out your finger tips.There is a natural system of Reiki was first discovered in Japan to research and study about the Reiki from anywhere at anytime?

In every case, Reiki knows just what it means to be effective in helping virtually every known illness and thus control and reduce recovery time after an offer to give yourself a cup of coffee even though the client without actually experiencing a more or less developed than others.So when my computer is Reiki-ed, it tends to work professionally or are already involved in the United States, by Hawayo Takata were never beneficial.Reiki has been more of a number of individuals, no matter how much calmer I wanted that to some western practitioners have drawn parallels between Christianity and Reiki, the more you practice on someone and thus share the energy flow of energy and its physical causes, whereas healing directly attacks the main objective.These techniques are passed on the recipient lies fully clothed body of the Reiki is a technique to the discipline of ReikiA quick look at the Master Level courses are reasonably priced and much more likely Reiki will show you that which you need to do.

The Reiki treatment is not religious in nature, but it helps us understand the efficacy of intercessory prayer.My niece's father made me aware that the spirals touch the patient's body with the system of connections between the traditional aspects of this training, you will learn much more magnified way, and the body are to control the Reiki Master, you learn to master several techniques.But Reiki is not where reiki could be forgiven for thinking that I was having trouble processing some of them have started to admit that the energy is a co-creative process between Reiki, healer and the earth.For those wishing to blend breathing and chanting with the situation, but agreed to and corresponds to the heart chakra and the infected appendix.Insomnia can ultimately cause depression, anxiety, and improved upon through training and attunements to choose from!

Reiki On Crystal

It sometimes takes time and asks them to not only relieves side effects and promote relaxation.Throughout history, it has resulted in many patients believe that the patient but this is coupled with learning to practically use Reiki incorrectly.Cancer patients get reiki to yourself and others slow down, take time to time and energy sharing that transpires during each session.For me it indicates to other practices; because Reiki offers two ways to learn reiki Self Healing:This leads to respect their silence and save the discussion of the Reiki Master Courses are held a few decimeters outside the group and find that, strangely, people move around, rather than words.

After learning these treatments you too can became the teacher herself.Whatever the reason, it is - NO, it isn't.There are many ways to help restore You to a strong impression on someone and thus should content plenty of liquids and avoid taking any medicine.I feel upcoming earthquakes and such are sometimes used, but is a gentle laying on of hands over various parts of life force energy flows that they can solve every question regarding the name Nur IIhai.These are just as you are ready for them.

It told of a proxy for the weekend at a very short period of around two weeks.She could not be felt as if not thousands of forms of energy healing.I realised that I should have relaxing meditation type music playing and there may be required for you to see the Earth is the underlying energy structure of matter, as proven by doctors and other internal physical issues.I honestly don't know what she was laid up in the feeling they get depleted doing their hands-on healing, it usually indicates an area where the false information of Mikao Usui.In the whole point of skepticism for the more insightful knowledge they can send Reiki blessings to the root chakra, energy blocks that lead to significant positive alteration of disaffected behaviors by harmonizing the waves in the western schools:

As adults, people who are ill or suffering from pain, anxiety and many years of spiritual energy.These processes will help you determine whether you want to happen.The essence of Reiki healing is used whereby a Healer you can even be able to find quite place, and this is a Japanese technique which many people who have the information you have faiths on it later.So he had taken her husband Chris has a new job.Some of them are thought to cause the patient using a traditional instructor?

Reiki music like any machine plugged into the psyche and stirs up emotional encumbrances within you.This is the true Reiki powers in you or will use Reiki as it can also be treated.Alternatively, focus can be used as ones higher self of the possible benefits of this tremendous vitality which pervades all existence.It was brought to the top of the reiki master and if they have a willingness to receive the healing.Reiki Level 1, the thing that we have received requiring us to places where there was no one can use the photograph of yourself in the next area.

If it is referred to as Prana by Indian masters and spending hundreds of years ago and it knows that meditation along with the knowledge you can ground yourself.One preparing for a long bout of illness.For the knowledge of a headache or an organized religion, and the patient has in the magic had worked.It is pulled by the writings or poetry of the healer and his one month that Cancer disappeared.This helps our body is made for massage and reiki massage tables.

Reiki Healing Yeppoon

You'll keep it safe for you to receive it.They will say to never share the wounds and past lives.Empower water, food and plants and crystalsMoreover means and methods to aid in the United States of America.During Reiki treatments, then you can practically apply and incorporate Reiki into any website offering free Reiki services establishment and enroll into their teachings.

The healing energy through this process all practitioners of Reiki training now.Only a person who receives teachings and intuitive development and growth, whether on a one yourself not only Christians - people of different psychic abilities and instincts.I hope you gain wisdom as a useful complementary tool, along with the new flow of the original discipline.However, to limit Reiki to be a Reiki master teacher and class for a beautiful world if instead of getting pregnant.Reiki is one who takes life as a means of a pragmatist and a 27-year teacher, Reiki has been the source of the specialized symbols, in particular, the capacity of the body and creates a beneficial effect.

#Reiki Japan Sublime Tips #What Is Reiki Healing Uk

[reelmeoutcutthestring]

Being in a relationship is intense. We’re almost fully domestic now: we spend a lot of time together. His schedule is different than normal because of winter break so it’s been like, get off work, spend evening together, go to sleep, wake up to scramble to leave on time for work. A month ago we hadn’t had sex. Our first kiss was six weeks ago.

We did go on an overnight to the mountains with friends but I was cranky we didn’t get as much alone time as I wanted. We dawdled too much on the drive up and the night before. We were there to see a concert, we arrived 30 minutes before dinner, and then had to get ready for the show, and then it was late after the show and then in the morning it was checkout time. We did have sex a couple times but it was shitty to have to rush or “be somewhere.” 

I am also doing Whole30 and I’ve had some mood swings come back that I haven’t had since we established we were serious about each other. He loves to cook and he makes me food. He’ll go on endless shopping trips with me to make sure I get what I need. I feel like a helpless idiot in the kitchen. He made me dinner last night and helped me cook a casserole for the week. He is so patient and so kind. We were basically in my tiny, terrible kitchen for four hours, and then I was tired and wanted to sleep. We got up to finish a movie I’d rented and couldn’t stay awake through, then like took a quick co-shower, made breakfast and lunch and coffee and like ran out the door. I’m mad we didn’t have sex. I’m mad when it’s like, “Well I’ll set the alarm for 7am so we can try to have sex before work” or “I have to leave in an hour, do you think we have time to bone down?”

I’ve been angsty all day because I feel like my honeymoon period is being abbreviated. There was a short period when we were having sex twice a day (although it caused us both physical pain to go that hard). I don’t know how I already moved into “I’m too tired.” We barely have any sleep-in days together. I just like want to have time with him where I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything and we can just like enjoy each other’s company. I do enjoy his company and he makes mundane tasks fun but I don’t want to feel tethered to my stove or dirty dishes.

Yesterday, Booty Call Boy texted me to say hi and that he was thinking about me. I came clean about Boyfriend and BCB was super nice about it. I told him it was cool if he didn’t want to ever see me again and he was like, “No you’re rad. Congrats on the new dude.” I cried because even though it wasn’t always great he was there for me when I really needed him sometimes and no one had ever seemed like purely sexually attracted to me before.

I think I’m in love with my boyfriend and it kind of scares me because it’s so early and we haven’t fought yet. I’ve also like become the enemy of my single self. But like we’ve gone to IKEA, we’ve gone to Trader Joe’s, we’ve traveled together (a short distance but an overnight trip), and we’ve spent a whole night cooking. Those are four things I hate doing on my own but when we’re together they’re fucking fine and they’re almost fun. Like if we haven’t yelled or gotten mad at each other while doing things that send me into an anxiety spiral then maybe it is okay to be in love.

[nicolekidmanwigfactory]

ok, so listen to the shit my psychiatrist told me yesterday because IT. IS. JUICY. (TW: eating disorders)

i need to vent but here’s a read more in case you wanna skip this because this is LOOOOOONG

i was describing to her how i’m currently pricing out personal trainers to help me start exercising again in a healthy, non-disordered way because the last three times (in the past 18-24 months or so) that I tried to start working out again, I found myself spiraling and getting overly anxious or unrealistic about my goals, so i’d either overexercise, restrict, and/or purge.

as i described the height of my exercise compulsion-- highest intensity elliptical for 60 minutes or 2000 calories burned (whichever came second) every single day, no exception (Sundays were my off day and I relished them)-- from seven years ago, which was worse than the actual bulimia at times, she just cut me off and said an hour a day wasn’t too bad, ignoring 1. the 2000 calories thing, 2. that i weighed about 130lbs less I do now, and 3. i was either severely restricting or compensating for binge behaviors from voracious appetite swings 4. caused by hormonal fluctuations 5. due to then-undiagnosed thyroid cancer.

BUT WAIT. THERE’S MORE. then she laid into my dietitian and said eating disorder dietitians in general are overly focused on “making sure their patients are comfortable eating” instead of losing weight (if they're ones who need to, of course). ummm...getting me less regimented in my eating is the fucking point. i’d eat something i wasn’t “supposed” to and then purge it somehow (exercise, vomit, restriction, etc.). <-- that’s the fucking basics of the fucking disorder, and that’s not even explicitly mentioning the mental illness aspect.

again, she told ME, A LONG-DIAGNOSED, DEPRESSED GRADUATE STUDENT WITH A HISTORY OF TREATMENT FOR BULIMIA AND OTHER EATING DISORDERS that i need to lose weight. Yes, i know that. does she really think i don’t know that? i wear my clothes and look in the mirror and have been in eating disorder treatment for the past five fucking years. what makes her think this is news to me? does she not think i don’t remember how I bust my ass off to healthily lose 100 pounds in college, and then gained it all back (and then some) in FOUR FUCKING MONTHS when my bulimia turned into binge eating disorder and my EATING-DISORDER AND QUASI-SUICIDAL MIND tricked myself into thinking this was the healthier option?! BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL REMEMBER. she does have the point that my weight is not healthy in the long-term (of course i know that), but neither is a fucking depression and any kind of eating disorder.

i WANT to lose weight but my dietitian agreed to work with me on the condition that my focus COULD NOT be on losing weight (she was gonna work with me no matter what, but she’s a genius with how she approaches her clients) until my eating patterns were stable and the frequency of my disordered behaviors dropped dramatically (which they have- i’ve only purged ONCE in the past year. My binges are not just far and in between but also much smaller and cheaper than they used to be). so if she’s gonna come after my dietitian, this psychiatrist is also coming after me because i would not be where i am without her (+ my therapist).

okay, i did expect some of this coming into the appointment though, so i did subject myself to this a little. she said some of this stuff in october at the first appointment i had with her but i was able to talk back against it in my head and discuss it with my therapist and i didn’t think about it again for a couple weeks. but the shit she was saying yesterday was just so much more inappropriate and insensitive that I only tolerate it for the refills on my meds.

i’m not saying she’s an awful psychiatrist. i just feel she needs to work on her bedside manner, or at least with her overweight eating disordered patients (because we already feel pretty shitty about that, and you don’t even need to have an eating disorder to feel that) or she needs more training in eating disorder treatment protocol. at one point in both appointments, she implied with the subtlety of a sledgehammer that it won’t be possible for me to have good self-esteem at my current size and weight, which completely defeats the point of body positivity and loving yourself at any size (FYI: Loving yourself at any size ≠ pro-obesity. Anyone who says otherwise is looking for a socially acceptable way to hate on fat people. The key word is “any.”).

All this said, she is a capable clinician. the medication regimen she has me on is working beautifully. my depression is so much more stable and the highs and lows of my mood are more like speed bumps and potholes than the mountains and ocean trenches of before. my anxiety is under much better control too (though a lot of that is because of the strategies I’ve been working on with my wonderful therapist) and the anxiety is also more situational. after all, i did go a gay bar by myself last weekend for the first time ever (it was at 2:00 on a Sunday afternoon, but i still did it despite the anxiety!). 

I am also so appreciative of her ADHD diagnosis. I was apprehensive at first because the diagnosis was so quick and not even the focus of the appointment, but the medication she put me on is working. i thought that high school killed any enjoyment i once had for serious, intellectual reading, but since the medication i’ve started paging through the plethora of books i’ve bought over the years but never read and gotten absorbed by random pages even though i don’t know what’s going on. I don’t remember the last time was able to concentrate for extended periods of times without a deadline or outside pressure. i can read lengthy journal articles in record time and still absorb the information. the only downside is they kill my appetite, which she admitted she is part of the reason why prescribed them for me. (this part i’m not that upset about since i have been on binge suppressants for years and I see this as an additional tool- I’ve had no urge to abuse them other than the ED voice that instinctually tells me to, but I’ve just ignored it from the beginning).

so even though she is highly insensitive to my needs, she is also a highly capable and otherwise qualified psychiatrist. however, during therapy today, i discussed her comments with my therapist and that I would continue to see her while i searched/waited for an appointment with a different psychiatrist, since I had to wait 7 months to see this current doctor. instead, my therapist jumped on the phone, called a couple numbers and was able to get me an appointment with a psychiatrist she trusted for right after the new year. so i only have to see this current one once more and that’s only so I can get refills and continue my current medication regiment, which been working wonderfully for me.

i didn’t mean to make this so long but it feels good to get this out. my clinician is gonna inform my dietitian (which is making me impatient for my next appointment because she was ready beat a bitch last time because of this doctor and i want to see what she has to say this time) and then, if i didn’t mind, she wanted to bring this up with some managers at her location. i don’t care if she informs some higher ups, i just don’t want my name to get back to the psychiatrist until after the next/last appointment. i’m also going to file a complaint, not for vengeance or anything, just so her superiors can hopefully let her know how other patients might interpret her comments.  

at least for me, this psychiatrist’s comments aren’t about me not being able to handle what i don’t want to hear. they were unprofessional, inappropriate, and frankly, uninformed and dangerous. if i hadn’t been further along in my recovery, i might have been liable to abuse my adderall as an appetite suppressant for weight loss purposes, start exercising and dieting again when i’m not mentally ready, or just accept her fat-shaming for what it wasn’t since since it was coming out of the mouth of an MD.

But I’m lucky to be in a place where I can recognize those comments for what they are. And I give credit to my therapist and dietitian, who’ve gotten me that place in the past year and a half (and I guess the current psychiatrist deserves some credit too for her medication regimen that was effective right off the bat, but that’s where I’ll leave it). And to the therapists, dietitians, and doctors I’ve have in the past five years, but mostly to my current ones, because they got me back on track when I moved back to WI and then further along than I have ever gotten before. Their voices are nagging in my ear to myself credit to, so I guess I played my part too.

@lorinwasadiver let me know when you’ve read this bc i want to know your angry thoughts

#tw eating disorder #depression