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harway · 9 months

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Having a huge argument with a friend. Free drama read.

Through Discord text chat. The start of the argument was over if the VTuber, Koseki Bijou, sounded younger than 7 or if she sounded 12. My argument was the former, his was the latter. I am bias against high voices and I am deathly allergic to girls that speak high and cutesy perpetually.

It was a decent length argument going back and forth, and my friend said the VTuber sounded older than 12. He would know because he went to a 12 year old's birthday party.

Meanwhile I recently went on vacation that included children ages 2, 7, 9, and 11. The VTuber sounded younger than 7 pit against them. If you're reading this, you can look the VTuber up and make your own judgements.

Anyway, I made a really dry joke that I was sorry the 12-year-old my friend knew was disabled. (The high voice being the 'disability'.) He got really offended because apparently that's his goddaughter and I shouldn't assume she's disabled because she has a high voice.

Now, being upset I made a mean joke is perfectly reasonable, what's not reasonable is how he handled shutting down the conversation which was strong-armed. Words like: "Stop. No, we're not talking about this." "The conversation is over."

Being treated in such a way triggers me really badly. I don't handle being treated like that very well and it snaps something in my brain. It manifests as anger like a fire that sucks out all my oxygen and my head shifts into a hard "you should not exist in this world" / "I don't want to live in a world with people like you in it." I get heavily suicidal, and go insane. I have enough consciousness to not start destroying things or committing to self harm, but the feeling is there—and this only happens when that type of language is used against me.

Should probably get therapy about that type of reaction—why it is and how to avoid situations like that—but that's not important right now.

Anyway, since I got triggered really hard, I ended the conversation and left for the night; I can feel when my sanity is slipping. I had to extract myself from that conversation because I didn't want to say anything I regret. I considered him a precious friend. I said something along the lines of that I was enraged and that I was getting off for the night.

The reason I used the language of "enraged" is because that's what I felt at the time! The feeling is extremely visceral and can be difficult to explain as a result.

Off the computer I was wailing to my friend about it—screaming—Friend B didn't even take me seriously until I dug my fingers into his sides and shook him as hard as my little arms could. I was very not okay. Sliding off the deep end, but he talked me into calming down until I returned to normal after bitching and crying for several hours about it.

End that event.

Six days later Friend A messaged me. At this point I'm extremely stressed because of my job. My boss was asking me to move across the country for an unreasonable amount of money (45k a year), but the company is a start up. The stress of that, I did not have the emotional capacity to explain to my friend he triggered an extreme mental breakdown. How do you explain that to someone anyway? "I had a mental breakdown and it's your fault"?

I did my best to allude to that it was more than just anger, but also firmly said I couldn't talk about it and didn't have the emotional bandwidth. I would discuss it with him later when I did.

I also went over with him in-depth about the other major stressor in my life in which he gave absolutely no sympathy towards. He moved across a few states for an (apparently) bad wage at a hospital (not a start-up company), and lived with a family member in his current state until he could get a house. (I have no family or friends where I would have been moving aside from my boss who has has a wife and 2 kids; I'm not staying with them.)

Also, something, something, I made some assumption and Friend B says that I need to stop making assumptions. He has a habit of lecturing me about how I should be. How I need to use words around him to dictionary definition to prevent misunderstandings. He needs to be interacted with in a precise way and if I don't, I get a small lecture about how I'm interacting with people wrong.

End second event.

Back to the main point, it takes a lot of time for me to think of a super triggering event like that and not go into a flurry of insanity just at the thought. It was important for me to have space so I could get to a point where I don't get suicidal thinking about the event. So three weeks past and I messaged him today asking if he's going to play Armored Core. I know it's within his special interests and it's a good question to test the waters with.

His answers were really short. Okay, fine, I know things aren't good between us, so I just bluntly ask if we're just not going to talk anymore. His response is exactly, "I'm talking with my parents. Not everything revolves around you."

There was not even a hint that he was busy doing something else, only that he was being short. Last time he was short too, which creates the assumption he's angry. These are normal assumptions, and people make and draw conclusions naturally.

But the "not everything revolves around you" really fucking ticked me off. My assumption was a symptom of a greater issue (us being on bad terms) and I explained that.

And then later he writes back to me the giant thing about how I was taking advantage of him, how I have no self-awareness, and goes on this huge rant about how pretty much he makes so many sacrifices to make our friendship work. So patient and tolerant. He even says he wasn't even mad that I insulted his goddaughter. He was drawing his boundaries and calmly letting me know and tried to move the conversation away. If you've forgotten already how that went, he shut down the conversation hard and refused to talk about pitch and age corelation of high voices. If it didn't make him mad, why did he have such a violent reaction to it?

So then I wrote him a 3 page essay response about what happened during event one, how it made me feel, and that if anything I actually felt betrayed. Not too long ago we were talking about hwo we enjoyed each other's company. There were things we could talk about that we couldn't any other. He was also happy I didn't freak out over alone-together silence and generally I was super grounded.

I have no clue what he was talking about regarding everything else. And so, more context:

Friend A was a very special friend to me because he was one of the first people to treat me like a person and want to do things with me back when no one would talk to me in high school. To me he was like a shining sun and I had a lot of fun, happy memories.

I pay special attention to how I talk to him as a result to preserve who he is and our relationship.

I never want to shame him for his hobbies—like once he was really into painting his nails; I encouraged him to do it if it made him happy. I don't really like that in a guy, but my opinion doesn't matter when it comes to his happiness.

I do my best to listen to him talk about games he's interested in, at the very least keep an open ear even if they aren't my kind of game. He does the same for me. I am admittedly bad at engaging and have bad auditory processing, but I will never tell him to stop talking about them even if I'm not all that interested.

I even talk to him about topics he doesn't feel like he can talk about with others. The appreciation for good doujin or weird web comics. I think they're fun too and it's enjoyable!

I don't really like table top games, but I gave Lancer a try for him. It went really badly for me in particular, but the group and story was just not a very good for introduction for a newbie. I ended up having to withdraw and did my best to explain it wasn't their fault, I'm just not used to TTRPGs enough for it.

During this event Friend A actually got upset for not going to him for help. He is just not someone great to ask for things to be explained to from, and last he tried to help me with Lancer it wasn't a very good learning experience. Also I have a lot of trouble with self learning and focus.

Meanwhile he's great at it! Tried playing Kingdom Death with him. I tried to talk to him while he was reading the rules though once and I get a really terse, "I'm not done reading the rules" in the same tone a parent might tell a child that they're busy and to go away because they're a child. Then while playing the game he insisted we follow the rules to a 'T' rather than focus on making the game fun for us. Friend B was there too and not having a great time.

And another great interaction with Friend A was when we were talking about VTuber rigging. He said that IRYS' first model wasn't expressive enough and that was the fault of the modeler. I said that it was the fault of the rigger and 2D rigging is similar to 3D rigging (my main trade), which is how I know. He insisted that it was the modeler's fault, but we both didn't know enough about Live2D to argue about it. He was going to ask another friend who made and rigged her own model. I didn't bother arguing with him about it, but later he said his VTuber friend said it was the fault of the rigger. OK. I don't even think I rubbed it in that I was right or that it was how I said because I'm not looking to pick arguments.

And then us not being able to play a game together he's complained about, because I used to move games a lot... Well, we had different schedules so I just stopped inviting him to try different games. I wasn't going to make a big deal of it. Says it's my fault, whatever, maybe in the future if there's a game we both really like—shelving the idea.

I'm just griping now honestly. Friend B says I shouldn't be friends with Friend A if he brings no joy to my life. The idea of Friend A is probably where the joy is and we have just such different communication styles we probably should just stop being friends.

In the end though, the start of this whole damn thing could have been avoided if he communicated his boundaries with different phrasing. I don't have a problem with his boundaries, but I also got mine. No one else I talk to treats me like I'm below them, even my boss.

It got worse because I needed to look after my mental health since I could easily become actively suicidal. Maybe I didn't communicate that well when I was overwhelmed and stressed. I'll take that L too; I need to get better at controlling my emotions and handle stress better.

But seriously, how are you supposed to tell a precious friend "Your language towards me caused a serious mental breakdown" when just the thought of it caused insanity to ebb at the edge of the mind?

#personal

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getmylife · 10 months

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Update (Game Plan?)

Completed August 3, 2023

I am depressed. There’s no other way to say it, no point in beating around the bush. And depression has a way of interfering with productivity (LOL). July was A LOT. I did my tally of completed tasks this week and I think it was a total of almost 180, which is approximately half of what I do in an entire quarter. So yh, no wonder I’m burnt out.

But more than that, the past five years have been building up to this giant ball of “Why am I even here?” in my chest and it looks like the only way out will be through my mouth. So I’m going back to therapy.

The past few months have made it abundantly clear that I’m not going to survive without some kind of intervention. I was hoping that moving would have been that intervention: cleaner air, more sunlight, my own space, safe ways to exercise. I mean it sounds like heaven.

But moving is taking a lot longer than expected. Money has been the major problem. And energy. Someone has to sort through and pack all of our stuff. Someone has to push for windows and doors and kitchen counters. I’ve tried to be that person but please refer to Sentence #1. I’m barely able to keep myself going at this point. How will I sustain an entire moving operation?

So moving might be a last quarter of the year situation. I’m praying for October, the 7th, to be exact. It’s a Thursday (woot woot) and all our major projects for the year should be done and dusted. We should have the bandwidth to pull off an entire move by then. I can’t wait ‘til October to feel better about life, so therapy it is.

I’m hoping I get some distinct diagnosis so I know what I’m working with. So I have an idea of where to start.

I was talking to my mom today about medication and sharing that I think if I’m ever going to be a functional person again I’m going to have to try medication, but I don’t want to be on medication for the rest of my life. And she was like, you might have to be on it until your body can produce the hormones you need to function. Idk. I don’t want to taste normalcy and then have to give it up. I’m so afraid of messing up my body and mind further. I was like “it’s been ten years, why can’t my body figure itself out yet?”

But she reminded me that it’s been 10 years of going nonstop. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’ve been running so fast that I don’t even know which direction I’m moving in. I don’t know which way is up or down or forward or backwards.

So.

I’m thinking about making October a month of self-discovery. I really want to spend some time figuring out who I am and where I want to go. I think I’ve largely focused on the needs of the people around me and their expectations of me for the past ten years. I think it’s time to be a bit more conscious and deliberate about making this my life. About making it something I’m creating and not something that’s happening to me.

I think this month, and next month, God willing, I’ll spend some time putting together a list of activities I can try throughout October to get to know myself better. Once I figure out who I am and what I want, I think building the life and the routines that facilitate that will be easier. And then I can put things in place over the months to follow to hit the ground running (or walking, if I so decide) in January 2024, God willing.

For anyone else struggling, I hope you find a reason to hold on today. You got this! I believe in you!

#productivity #tw: depression #get my life 2023 #noteworthy #relflection

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whoreforharlow · 11 months

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Ignore me

Okay, but some people really cannot fathom the fact that the world doesn't revolve around them. Like no one owes you anything, get over yourself lol. People have their own shit they're dealing with and your constant taking of offense to people not giving you attention whenever you want it is so harmful to your own mental. Because then it turns into this victim hood of "nobody cares about me", when that's not the case at all. It's just that the constant coddling and need for instant validation and reassurance is too much on us, especially in this economy. Everyone is struggling, the world is crashing around us as we speak, and unfortunately, we just don't have the bandwidth to take on your problems too. Like the moment someone dares to not spread themselves so thin, dares not to give so much of themselves to fight your everlasting war, dares to have their own problems for fucks sake, it's a whole meltdown about how you have no one has your back. It's time for you to grow up, we're getting too old to still be acting like we're in highschool, it's been 6 years. We're grown now, we've got real problems, like rent increases and these egg prices.

And the fact that you refuse therapy is what's getting on my damn nerves too. Like what am I supposed to do about your trauma? I can be as supportive as can be, but unless you're gonna do the work to heal, I'm just gonna be listening to you relive this trauma over and over, which is exhausting. I'm no super empath, but like reliving someone's trauma constantly as they continue to complain and fall into the exact same cycles, STEP FOR STEP as that, takes it's own toll on the listener. I've got my fair share of trauma, but I'm actually doing the work to be proactive about it. I'm one of those "I won't make the same mistake twice" kind of folk, because what do I look like doing the same shit that put me in this mess???? And I get it, traumatized people have a tendency to make the same mistakes because of the familiarity of it, but like c'mon. At your big age, with so much technology at our fingertips, literally free/discounted therapy available to us, there's no excuse for not pursuing professional help. I'm not trying to shame you, but there comes a time where you gotta look yourself in the mirror and see that there's no one to blame anymore.

The universe isn't out to get you. It's like you see a puddle ahead of you, see the wet floor sign, and just go walking over there and then when you slip and wall pretend like you had no idea it was there and now you want to collect a sympathy cheque. And we've let that shit slide when we were in highschool, so maybe there's a little blame on us for enabling your behavior, but now we're grown and you doing the same shit you did when we were kids and we just not responding like we used to. It doesn't mean we don't care or we don't love you, it just that we can't come racing to pick you up every time, especially when it's the same damn thing over and over again.

Everybody is tired.

I'm tired.

#personal

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ronjona · 1 year

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Semi-ending

I have been running away for so long....knocking on doors and begging to them to give an ounce of peace and security. I have been rejected, ghosted, stonewalled and drove over by people who I thought would have been the ones handling my vulnerabilities with a lot more care. But I was so wrong. I have been proven wrong...sometimes I even knew I was wrong but I still let them in. Mistakes made on my own consciousness.

I feel incredibly lucky that I have someone, who sees all that I am, the mess that I am as something beautiful and courageous and wants to take care of me, be there for me. That scares me very much. Cause I know I won’t be able to deal with it if I face betrayal from this part of my life. I will officially go mad.

What life has taught me and what I have seen all around me is that everyone is ready to betray in fear of being betrayed. We end up hurting people as we are not even slightly willing to go through minor inconvenience. We are willing to bend over backwards for what we have, and we are unable to lift a finger if it is about alleviating or not causing someone pain on our account.

I can write a never-ending list on people who has hurt me and how. But more than therapy I think it will just drain me. I will speak about those exeperiences as a collective rather than singling them out.

The only people I have stonewalled or ghosted in life were the ones that won’t be affected by this. Someone who I have talked to probably merely a second. I do feel about that one guy I used to talk back in the days who was sick and had crippling anxiety. I wish I was communicating with him a lot more than I did.

I wish I was still in touch with him or had let him know that I didn’t have the bandwidth in my life to continue the friendship.

Except for him I don’t think I have really left anyone high and dry.

The thing that I want from people is just genuinity and I know that this is a lot to ask for. But I also think this is something that I am willing to offer as well. I know this world is not really about a fair trade-off. So this isn’t exactly right thing to do.

But human emotions are fluctating nonetheless. And I have been very vulnerable for far too long. But I mistook my cold nature towards other people’s hateful comments as being strong....so now I feel like I am weak.

It is just that I have started to melt. Maybe this is healing, Maybe I misunderstood how healing looked like.

As much as I thought I will be able to move on from people smoothly...I have not been able to. I have been carrying this sense of hurt for a year now.

Also my physical health has deteriorated significantly. And I have been doing absolutely nothing to rectify that situation. I hate that about me.

I need to look at the job as just a job and nothing more. It will provide me with money as long as they let me, and I will toil away. Irregardless of it having to offer anything more.

I will refrain from making friends from this part of my world. Cause I think it messes up a lot of things.

I don’t know what I want to do in life. I think being ambitious will just hurt me more so I have stopped trying to do that. But I want to achieve my goals.

And I want to marry showmic and close few chapters of my life. This is more of a cerebral decision than an emotional one. Showmic made the decision for me which I think is good for long run. I wasn’t able to do so.

Fairwell Single Riva....if you try to look from a vantage point, you did have a lot of fun. Instead of being stuck on the void of gut-wrenching pain or how it ended you might want to focus on the fun/joy you had while doing so. I know, if i measure the two; the pain outweighs the fun significantly. But I would still say, I am glad you took risks.

And I am glad the person you are today,

because of all that happened to you

....despite of all that happened to you.

And your body is doing the best it can. So give it what it needs

Love you Riva.

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its-kall-the-clown · 3 years

Note

If you're still doing prompts, #13 for Silktea? I LOVED the last one and am starved for Silktea content! 💕🕷

God I love silk tea so much *sobs* This is part three of the saga and you can read PART ONE here and PART TWO here.

its like watching two himbos try to flirt and one of them is in major denial.

prompt list (please submit I have more bandwidth to do more writting)

Just Ask

Rating: PG

"Shoo! Go away! Stop following me!"

Huntsman hisses over his shoulder trying to hobble faster with his crutch. The tortie car continues to pad after him with her tail curled upwards and a soft string of mews on her lips. The orange and white cat was the most tolerable of Sandy's therapy cats, and she was the only one he would allow to sleep in the bed with him or sit on his lap when he was reading.

The spider demon was in the shipyard currently, making a break for the sewers so he could slink back to his queen.

His injuries were far from healed but he could walk mostly on his own now which meant it was time to go home. Even if he hadn't finished healing yet he was capable enough to be out back to work. That was the standard under the queen after all. If you could stand on your own it was back to work.

And so he left.

He waited for Sandy to leave to get groceries of course, he couldn't look at them in the eye and tell him it was time to go.

Partly because he knew Sandy would insist he had to stay.

And partly because he knew he would.

His side twinges painfully and suddenly his legs give out. He falls to his face and lets out a strangles yelp. His broken leg throbs from the impact and all he can do is curl inward and let out a string of curses. Concerned mewls circle him and he feels the cat rub up against his side.

"Buzz off fleabag." He growls but there is no heat to it. He pulls himself up enough that he can pull his body forward. He drags himself to the nearest shopping container and leans against it, his head is dizzy and his vision swims so he just lays there for a minute. He huffs, feeling sweat break out across his brow and something wet trails down his back. He opened his wounds again. Damn.

He hardly even left the boat and here he was a weak little gasping mess. What happened to him? He used to be able to power through injuries ten times worse than this. He remembers distinctively one time he had four broken ribs and still was standing tall before his queen waiting for more orders. He had become weak in his absence from her.

Sandy had made him weak.

He closes his four eyes picturing the smiling demon and his large hands that always handled him gently. Sandy always held him he was made of glass, and at first, he hated it, but it slowly grew on him. suddenly all he wanted was to be held and treated gently.

He can hear their baritone laugh in his head, it vibrates in his skull and his chest even when he's not here.

And he feels their lips against his eyelids.

That night when they shared a bed was the catalyst for him leaving. He realized how badly he wanted that companionship and knew he would never leave if he didn't go now.

He whimpers holding his side as he feels slick blood ooze between his fingers. He feels the cat bump against his side and he slits an eye open at them. They are sniffing him gently, probably can smell his blood, and are trying to figure out where he was injured.

"It's okay….I'm not a child." He reassures the cat reaching with his clean hand to scritch under their chin.

"I can handle this." He insists, probably trying to convince himself. Instead of curling in his lap like he expects the tortie ets out a loud mew and then turns and pads away. Leaving him to silk against a shipping container in his own misery and blood. He tries to not let it offend him.

Huntsman leans his head back and lets out a sigh. If he was just a little stronger he would be home by now. And if he was a lot stronger he would tell Sandy how he feels. The demon seemed to be interested, at least he was picking up signals. You don't just kiss the eyelids of someone you don't at least have some feeling for.

But at the same time doubt was seeded in his mind. What if he had imagined it all? what if that's just how Sandy was normally with everyone. Why would he waste time on someone like him when Sandy was so perfect and amazing and probably could woo anyone he wanted. He pictured someone else in Sandy's arms. A nameless demon with curvy hips and delicate horns who laughed like bells and appreciated everything Sandy did for them. He frowns something in his stomach curling like spoiled milk. It was easy to picture, too easy.

He tries to replace the nameless demon with himself. It's much harder to visualize, like looking at a watercolor painting. He didn't fit into Sandy's arms quite right and his laugh was more scratchy.

They didn't fit together. Like puzzle pieces from Two different sets, no matter how much you shoved or pushed you couldn't make them got together.

As much as he wanted to.

"Meeroww!" He opens his eyes to see the same tortie cat approaching, tail up and slightly curved. Why were they coming back? He opens his mouth to ask just that but his words are stolen by an extra presence.

Sandy.

Those sad blue eyes meet him and he can tell he's worried about the spider demon. He's wearing black sweatpants and a loose matching black shirt that just makes him unfairly handsome.

The little cat was a snitch and likely went to fetch him.

Wordlessly he clicks his jaw shut, and wordlessly he's picked up by the gentle giant.

"You reopened your wounds." They scold with a huff and Huntsman shrinks under it. He's never had Sandy treat him with disappointment before and he didn't like it. He fists his hands in Sandy's shirt as he's carried back to the ship.

"I'm sorry…"

"What were you trying to do?" Sandy asked with a sigh and Huntsman grips his shirt tighter.

"Trying to get away…" he admits honestly as they cross the threshold of the ship. He apparently didn't get very far if they were already back home.

He realizes too late he called it home inside his head.

This was home now. Sandy was home.

The demon was lowering him down onto the bed now, likely to tend to his wounds. He throws his arms around Sandy's neck in a panic. They grunt under the changed grip and now Sandy is bending over awkwardly, huntsman sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms around Sandy's neck.

"I need you to let go so I can tend your wounds." He explained his hands trailing to Huntsman's hip where it burns through his clothes and skin.

"No." He huffs burying his face into Sandy's chest. He inhales his comforting scent. A scent of Jasmine, beard oil, and clean laundry. It's intoxicating, he could drown himself in this scent for weeks and it still wouldn't be enough. He pulls away just enough to look Sandy in the eye.

God, he could get lost in those eyes, like endless tunnels he would wander forever in them. He studies their face in the low light of the bedroom, Sandy has a nick over his left brow, a scar from some last battle, his beard and mustache are well kept, brushed, and trimmed to perfection. Huntsman reaches up and cups theire face before he can even think. Sandy's eyes widen under the touch and the larger of the two is now cupping the hand pressed to his face.

Sandy is strong. Stronger than most and where it counts. He's endlessly kind and attentive, he's also mischievous, he had seen that side of him in passing with his time here.

He's precious like jade and like a greedy thief Huntsman wants it

"What do I need to do to have you?" He asked huskily and Sandy pulls the hand away from his face to kiss the wrist there.

"Just ask."

Huntsman could have this. He didn't deserve it but of he asked he could have what he wanted. He licks his lips trying to get the words to come out of his mouth.

"May I kiss you?" He asked, craning his head upward. Sandy's eyes crinkle with a hidden smile and he nods.

Huntsman presses upward, their lips connecting in a short chaste kiss.

It's only for a second, Huntsman is too nervous and shy to demand anything else. But God it felt like a lifetime. In just a few short seconds it feels like a complete rebirth. His whole body reacts, shuddering like he's been shocked and some pathetic noise grows in the back of his throat.

When he pulls away instead of that being the end, a hand curls around the back of his neck and tilts his head upward. He is putty in Sandy's grip and goes easily letting out another pathetic whimper. The second kiss is more.

More everything! More passion, more tender, more Sandy. He grips the front of Sandy's shirt tightly with his claws as he feels the lips move against his. He feels Sandy nip and his bottom lip and he lets out a surprised noise and he can feel the demon smirking into his lips from the elicit sound.

Too soon Sandy pulls away leaving Huntsman to shake like a leaf in his absence. The thumb on his hip continues to rub back and forth and the added hand to the back of his neck makes him positively weak.

"Will you let me tend to your wounds now?" Sandy's asked and Huntsman just blinks dumbly at him. Eventually, his brain catches up and he nods.

"I'll get the medkit. Stay here." He instructs, laying Huntsman down slowly.

Maybe it's the blood loss talking, but Sandy looks angelic above him. Ge's tempted to try and pull them down into another kiss but honestly, he really should let the demon tend to his reopened wounds.

Kissing him breathless could wait.

#Lego monkie kid #monkie kid #Sandy #Huntsman #Silktea shipping #*SLAMS TABLE* finally they kiss #god damn idiots took forever #this is my favorite ship and I will go down with it #writting prompt #prompt ask #sumbit more yall the varrels getting low LOL #ypu can evem go off list if you want

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jarienn972 · 4 years

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Weathering the Storm - Part Two

When I posted Part 1 of this story several weeks ago, I hadn’t planned on spending nearly a month in a depression-induced haze. I finally managed to convince my head that writing could be good therapy and delved back into the angsty lives of fictional characters.

When we left off, Killian had passed out in pain on Zelena's sofa. In this chapter, I gave a little background into what Emma was up to before jumping back to the present. The forecast is still very stormy... You can catch back up by reading Part 1 here or you can find both chapters on AO3 and FF.net.

"C'mon, kid!" Emma shouted while holding open the front door to the Sheriff's station with her foot as she clung to her pretty much useless umbrella with both hands. She and Henry had gotten caught by the downpour while walking back from the clothing shop several blocks down Main Street from the station. They'd remembered to bring umbrellas with them as heavy rain was forecast but the strong accompanying wind rendered the accessories worthless. Mother and son were both drenched and he hadn't kept up. "Hurry up! Let's get out of this rain and try to dry off."

"I'm coming…," he mumbled as he picked up his pace, hurrying past his mother into the darkened station. Emma followed, waving her hand to magically switch on the squad room lights as she tugged the door closed behind them. "You know, you could have just poofed us over here from the shop so we wouldn't have gotten soaked…" Henry teased.

"Where's the fun in that?" Emma laughed as she closed her wet umbrella and tossed it onto the tile floor to the right of the door, somewhat surprised that Killian hadn't returned from Zelena's place yet.

"Fun?" he scowled as he shook the excess rainwater off his own umbrella before folding it up. He then shed his waterlogged jacket, hanging it on the back of an empty chair to dry out. "Can I go grab a snack from your office?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Dinner will probably be a little late tonight anyway."

"Okay, thanks. You want anything?"

"A cup of coffee to warm my insides," she mused as she shrugged off her saturated crimson leather jacket, draping it on over the back of another unoccupied squad room chair. "And I need to figure out where Killian might be… I can't imagine he's still out at Zelena's place. He left here almost two hours ago."

"That was before this rain started," Henry reminded her. "Maybe he decided to wait out the storm?"

"What? With Zelena? I don't know about that…" Emma leaned over the nearest desk and picked up the handset of the outdated telephone. She pressed a button on the console to open a line but frowned when she heard no dial tone. "Well, phone's out. We really need to work on upgrading the ancient lines around here…. Let's see if I can get a cell signal…" Withdrawing her iPhone from her jeans pocket, she tried Killian's phone first, then Zelena's number, getting a message that both mobile numbers were out of range. "We also clearly need to add another cell tower."

"Is there a way to magically boost the range?" Henry wondered as he returned to the squad room after raiding Emma's snack drawer, crunching a peanut butter granola bar.

"I wish I could. I mean, I suppose I could magically conjure up another cell tower, but there's no guarantee that their phones would even connect to it. It is something that Regina and I do need to discuss. The infrastructure of this town certainly needs some upgrades but magic isn't always the answer. You should know that considering you just spent hours trying on different suits, shirts and shoes when you easily could have had either of your mothers whip up the perfect outfit in a second."

"Point taken," he replied with a shrug. "I suppose that means you aren't going to magically upgrade our router at the house then?"

"Probably not." She shook her head and then chuckled at the sight of the almost sarcastic frown crossing his face. Still grinning, she strolled past her son into the station's break room, pressing the red button atop the coffee maker to get a fresh pot brewing before returning to her office to see if perhaps Killian had left a message on the station's antiquated answering machine. It was yet another on the long list of items in need of replacement. This thing wasn't even digital and no one sold the stupid little cassette tapes anymore. It needed to go to the dumpster as soon as she could find a digital one but for the time being, she'd have to make due. She unfortunately discovered that the machine wasn't flashing any indicator for new messages.

Henry noticed his mother's furrowed brow as she stepped out of her office then paused just outside of the doorframe as a rumble of thunder rattled the windows. Her plan to fetch coffee was momentarily forgotten as she stared blankly at the raindrops pelting the glass.

"You're worried about him, aren't you?" Henry queried, hoping his blunt question wouldn't be too upsetting.

"A little, I guess," she admitted with a reluctant shrug. "Hopefully, he's somewhere safe or he's at least taking his time driving back to town in these conditions. He's only had his license for a few months and we had a pretty dry summer…"

"If he's still in the car, you could try reaching him on the radio, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose I could...Why didn't I think of that?" she scolded herself as she ducked back into the office and snatched the microphone from one of the station's other ancient relics - the old citizens band radio. Pressing the button on the side of the microphone, she brought it closer to her mouth. "Killian, are you there? Over." She'd taught her husband some basic radio etiquette in the event that they needed to contact other emergency services but they tended to be a bit more casual when using Storybrooke's local bandwidth. She allowed a few seconds of static awaiting a response before repeating the message but each time, there was nothing but crackling coming through the speaker.

"Guess he isn't in the car," Henry stated.

"Doesn't seem like it." She was trying very hard to remain upbeat for Henry's sake, but her gut was telling her something might not be right. Maybe Killian was driving like the old man he was and chose not to respond to the radio while he was concentrating on the road. Maybe Zelena had offered for him to wait out the storm at the farmhouse, at least until the worst had passed. Cell service at that old house was practically nonexistent…

Mother and son both hopped in surprise as a brilliant flash of lighting and the accompanying thunder clap startled them just as the power blinked off.

"Well, so much for the WiFi," Henry grumbled.

"The generator should kick on in a minute with emergency lights," Emma reminded him. "Let me go check on it…" She was actually happy to see a couple of the overhead spotlights immediately flickering on, indicating that the backup generator was functioning as it should. "Well, there you go."

"Still no WiFi though," the teen lamented. "I'm going to go sit in the break room and try texting Violet…"

"That's fine. Let me fill my coffee mug and I'll get out of your way." She picked up the stainless steel travel mug from her desk, absentmindedly filling it to the brim while her mind wandered elsewhere. There was little more she could do until the weather let up. She entertained the thought of poofing herself to Killian's location but she dismissed the idea, fearful that she'd startle her husband too much and likely cause him to wreck the cruiser.

She knew Killian was smart. He was a seasoned mariner who had centuries of experience weathering storms and he wouldn't do anything reckless. Why was she so worried?

**********

As much as she tried not to stare, Zelena's gaze kept drifting over to the injured, unplanned houseguest sleeping on her sofa. He wasn't exactly resting easily, his limbs twitching, trembling and even shivering as he fought through intermittent waves of pain. Her drafty living room wasn't helping matters much either, especially after a particularly fierce gust of wind had nearly blown the tarp from the broken window. The covering had remained intact but it was starting to droop, billowing even more as it was pummeled by the storm. If it failed, it was going to be quite difficult to keep the house warm.

Aside from the wind whistling around the tarp and the crackle of the fire, she was grateful for a brief moment of peace. Robin had finally settled while her mother rocked her, her tearful tantrums fading as she gave in to sleep in mere minutes. Zelena dragged the play yard from the kitchen into the warmer living room and lowered the drowsy toddler into it before she collapsed onto her worn velour upholstered wingback chair. She'd hopefully have about an hour of quiet as her child snoozed, thunderstorm temporarily and blissfully forgotten.

She didn't sit still for long though. She soon found herself needing something to busy herself so she decided it was time to take the stained towels and Jones' mud-caked jeans into the bath to try to soak the blood and muck out of them. She dropped the stopper into the drain of her claw foot tub and turned on the faucet before tossing the towels into the basin.

As she watched the water instantly take on a pinkish tint, she found herself oddly transfixed by the crimson swirls. She'd been no stranger to violent outbursts. She'd never denied that she'd killed many in her quest for vengeance against her sister and anyone else she'd felt had wronged her, but then, she'd always had magic to fix her problems for her. She'd been able to wave away whatever impeded her. Not anymore. Now, for some strange reason, the sight of blood filling her bathtub came as a somber, unexpected reminder of all she'd given up and all of the promises that she'd made to her daughter.

She'd always be wicked but she wasn't going to allow darkness to taint her heart any longer. She'd promised Robin that she'd do the right thing - to just be Zelena Mills, not the Wicked Witch anymore. Staring at the blood staining her tub was proof that she was making small but deliberate strides towards righting many wrongs.

She shook off the sting of the memories before adding Jones' blue jeans to the nearly full bathtub, making sure to remove his wallet from his pocket. She was tempted to take a peek inside to see what the pirate was carrying but she resisted the urge, instead shoving the garment beneath the water's surface. Chunks of dirt and gravel sunk to the bottom as she turned off the tap. It was going to take a lot of scrubbing to get the porcelain tub clean again. Maybe she could convince someone with magic to help her with this mess too?

No matter, she thought to herself as she left everything to soak, turning her attention to the sink so she could wash away the lingering blood stains and mud from her hands. After patting them dry, she returned to the living room, checking on her sleeping daughter while her ears perked up at the sound of an anguished moan. A quick glance over to the sofa revealed that her guest was seemingly regaining consciousness. She noticed that his facial features were contorted in obvious discomfort as he pressed his arm tightly into his wounded side. She didn't witness him actually opening his eyes but she definitely heard him gulp down an uneasy breath before yelping in pain as he made a futile attempt to sit up.

"Easy...," she warned, crossing the room swiftly to press his shoulders back down into the pillow. "You don't want to be doing that just yet…"

A weary, disoriented Killian Jones eyed the blurry face that hovered above him with a mix of confusion and suspicion. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear and for recognition to set in but as he regained his coherency, the tension in his limbs relaxed and he sunk back into the cushions.

"Where am I?" he mumbled, eyes blankly scanning the room in search of familiar surroundings. Only the former witch's face was recognizable but he didn't have the foggiest idea why he was looking at her.

"My place," Zelena replied softly. "You showed up at my door over an hour ago, soaking wet with a bloody hole in your side." She gave the briefest synopsis she could to fill in some of the blanks in his memory.

"Is that what that is?" he grimaced, squeezing his eyes closed. "Hurts like the bloody dickens…"

"I'm sure it does. I don't have much here that I can get you to help with the pain either. Everything I have on hand is definitely geared toward toddlers."

"'Could use a fifth of rum…" Killian grumbled as he tried to shift his weight to a less painful position.

"Not hardly," she scoffed. "Let me see what I can muster up... Maybe some children's ibuprofen?" She hurried out of his sight for a moment, returning to the bathroom and throwing open her medicine cabinet. Inside, amongst cosmetics and assorted personal items, she located the bottle of pinkish liquid she'd last used when Robin was cutting a new tooth a few weeks back. She squinted trying to read the dosage instructions in the dim light. It was all determined by a child's age and weight. "Let's see...math was never really my strongest subject… How many teaspoons would make up an adult dose if it's one teaspoon for children twenty to thirty pounds? Oh, bloody hell - here! Just open up and take a swig..."

She grasped his bottom jaw and eased his mouth open, bringing the bottle to his lips. In too much pain to argue, Killian raised his head enough to swallow the sickeningly sweet medicine as she poured it onto his tongue. It took nearly all of his strength not to retch it right back up.

"What the devil is that awful concoction?!"

"It's called bubble gum. I really haven't the faintest idea what it's supposed to be but Robin seems to tolerate it."

"Bloody poison, that's what it is," he sputtered, cringing and hissing as his movements aggravated his wound. "Damn, that hurts…"

"Sorry. It's the best I can do until I can reach your wife."

"Emma doesn't know?"

"Not yet," she reminded him. "These nasty thunderstorms took out the power and the phones. I'll keep trying though."

"She'll be worried…"

"I'm sure she'll be looking for you if she doesn't hear from us soon. For now, just try to rest, especially while the little one's asleep."

"Thank you…"

Those two words were ones that Zelena still wasn't accustomed to hearing. She almost didn't know how to reply. "You're welcome…," she stammered after a moment of awkward silence that Killian didn't even register. "Rest up now."

#cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan #killian whump #whump fic #although this part is more angst #weathering the storm

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hempactivegel · 3 years

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Hemp Joint And Muscle Active Relief Gel With Natural Ingredients

cannabis medicine and I've treated thousands of patients with medical cannabis in CBD over the years and this is where I share all of that knowledge with you so in this episode today we're going to be talking about CBD used for chronic pain so how can CBD help chronic pain conditions what kind of chronic pain conditions it helps with and which ones it may not be so helpful with and then we're going to talk about how to actually use CBD and the experiences I've had using high CBD types of hemp in medical cannabis with my patients with chronic pain so this is a question I get asked all of the time in facebook groups by email and of course with my patients is they really want to try to use CBD and usually in an oil forms of CBD oil for their chronic pain now there's some CBD oils that you can get over-the-counter in some countries that are from hemp and they don't have any THC in it or less than 0.2 percent THC so basically none and then there's the medical cannabis that really has high high high CBD low THC but does it a little bit of detectable THC in it let's say 1% THC so in my medical practice in Canada where medical cannabis is legal I use a lot of very high CBD very low THC oils to help patients with chronic pain now chronic pain it's a just a huge broad area of medicine because there's so many areas where pain can come from pain can come from the nervous system being injured and come from the nerves called neuropathic pain or nerve pain it can come from inflammation so if someone who has an autoimmune disease or they have arthritis from just wear and tear they can all get different types of pain and you have pain in the nerve endings and you have pain in the body and then you have pain that starts in the brain that's again something called central pain so with all of these different types of pain actually one of the most important systems in our body to manage pain is our own cannabis system in our body our endocannabinoids system so what this means is that when we are facing pain whether it's chronic pain or acute pain there's molecules in our body there's chemicals our body makes to help fight that pain and our body makes cannabis like compounds cannabis like molecules called endocannabinoids it helps to really regulate our pain perception how we kind of perceive pain and also how pain really changes the brain over time so a really common question I get is you know what should I do when I've already tried CBD from somewhere over the counter from a hemp store for example for my chronic pain and it didn't do anything does that mean that cannabis medicine in general and CBD in general it just can't help me the answer is usually no usually the answer is that it probably can be helpful somewhat but it really depends on the type of CBD the concentration of CBD it's different for every person in every pain condition and a lot of other factors like was it a full spectrum cannabis medicine product with lots of different chemicals in it besides the CBD or was a just CBD without anything else like a CBD islip what I find with a lot of chronic pain conditions is because CBD actually interacts with our own cannabis system in our own bodies called the endocannabinoid system it doesn't actually turn pain off directly like a painkiller for example what it does instead is it down regulates our perception of pain and the kind of tones our our nervous system so to speak so it can help with chronic pain over a period of time but often times it might take weeks or months to see in effect and it doesn't cure chronic pain so you have to keep taking it so what can happen with a lot of people is they start taking a very small amount of CS CBD oil and they don't really see much difference if anything oftentimes they have to use a different dose a different product or sometimes adding a tiny bit of THC so using in Canada for example where this is legal a strain of cannabis oil that has a tiny bit of THC and still very very high amount of CBD actually works better for chronic pain in many cases because it actually binds directly to some of the the pain receptors using the THC and then the CBD makes the THC work even better even at these tiny little doses so normally even at those tiny doses of THC people don't normally feel impaired or high so a lot of times people think that CBD oil is going to work directly for their chronic pain but again because CBD actually doesn't bind to either one of the cannabis like receptors in our body the cb1 or the CBT receptor like THC does it works in a more kind of overall toning capacity like a lot of herbal medicines it's all about really toning the nervous system and this is where CBD can be helpful over time there's also still so much we don't know about CBD and about the cannabis plant in general we're really only at the beginning of our scientific understanding and this is really I mean I mean when I say the beginning I mean I read the most up-to-date cutting-edge research every week on this topic and I'm still feeling like you know we're really at the beginning so that being said how can you actually use CBD if you have chronic pain well one way that you can use it is you can help use it to help decrease the anxiety that comes with chronic pain because what happens when you have chronic pain is in the back of your mind even though your brain gets used to having chronic pain it takes up so much bandwidth in your brain so much mental and brain energy to basically dampen the pain signals so you can just go about your life and not feel like you're in constant trauma that over time it can cause a lot of brain anxiety and it can cause a lot of fatigue so what I find seem to be helpful with when someone has chronic pain one of the ways there's many but one of the ways is helping to decrease the brain anxiety levels so basically it helps kind of calm their brain down which dampens the fight-or-flight response or you know the danger response system in the brain and that also dampens pain signals and it also dampens our pain perception because when you have chronic your nervous system is on edge all of the time it's like you're caught in this fight or flight running away from a saber-toothed tiger cycle all of the time and everything is heightened so your awareness of everything of sounds of smells of bright lights and of pain everything gets amplified so basically it just helps kind of calm everything down a notch and even in itself that's really helpful with chronic pain sufferers another way that can actually help chronic pain is if the chronic pain has an inflammation component so that's actually most types of chronic pain even indirectly if you have nerve pain sometimes there's an inflammation component as well so what CBD does in animal models we know and we think in humans although we need really bigger research studies to say exactly how this works but it's probably very similar to what we're seeing in animal models is that CBD actually works on inflammation through a number of different pathways in the body so it can shut down inflammation in some pathways so if pain is coming from inflammation CBD used daily over time may help reduce inflammation and that kind of pain as well another factor in many forms of chronic pain even if you didn't start out this way is the longer the pain goes on the nervous system tries to adapt to the pain and basically your own endocannabinoid system in your other pain control systems they get out of whack they just don't work as well and they kind of reach this new baseline this new kind of dysregulated baseline of I'm okay but actually the nervous system is really just regulated so this is where CBD may be able to help again because it may be able to help rebalance the endocannabinoids system when it's gotten out of whack so the last thing that I'm just gonna mention is okay what types of chronic pain do I see enjoy treat with medical cannabis and high CBD strains especially so I see quite a variety of chronic pain conditions one of the really interesting things that I've noticed in my clinical work with patients and this is not something that's really in the published literature yet is after someone's received chemotherapy for cancer in many cases they use different drugs that really affect numbness and tingling and burning sensations of burning pain the hands and the feet and this is kind of a neuropathic or nerve type of pain that specifically people get after a lot of chemo therapies especially the breast cancer chemotherapy regimens and what I've found is when patients use CBD oil after they finish their chemo and they keep using it their pain their burning pain in their hands and their tingling pain in their hands and their feet tend to tend to go away a lot quicker then I would say on average so it may be really a place specifically received II show some promise there's some animal studies on that type of pain specifically using CBD and we need more research to say exactly how it works in humans but it's really promising another type of pain that I treat is fibromyalgia I also treat arthritis pain and pain that's associated with a lot of other chronic diseases so I'm gonna talk about each of those in another video specifically but in general I think for chronic pain CBD holds a lot of promise especially when it's combined with other chemicals in the cannabis plant and potentially with other herbals and other medications so if you like this video please subscribe to our Channel and also please share this video with your friends and family who might benefit from it too and if you want more great free resources from me on CBD cannabis medicine and evidence-based natural medicine come over and join me on dr. Danny Gordon comm and sign up for our emails where you're going to get updates for me personally and exclusive content

#Hemp active gel #hemp gel

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dearholly · 4 years

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Dear Me,

I know why you’re here and I’m not mad. I’m not disappointed. Read this and then go rest. And please be gentle on yourself.

We met at Macy's and immediately hit it off. I think it was a dark sense of humor and a fluency in sarcasm that first bonded us. She was amused and seemingly rapt by everything I had to say. When I eventually left Macy's for a work-at-home job listening to sales calls, I brought her with me. And because he was unemployed, her ex-boyfriend/roommate came with us as well.

They had dated in high school but had long since broken up although hey were still living together in her parent's house after his parents moved to Hawaii without him. I got to know him more when we started at our new positions. As a telecommuting job, here were a lot of opportunities for us to bond over instant messenger. He had a raw, vulnerable quality that drew me to him and I enjoyed how open and free I could be with him. He didn't seem to mind the darker parts of my humor and we bonded over a love of cars and photography.

The first tear in the fabric of everything is, I think, when I admitted to to my husband that I thought I had feelings for Her. He sexualized this confession and internalized it as permission for himself to be attracted to her, which in short turn he started to act on. In some ways, I knew that would happen but but I was terrified of my feelings. I didn't know exactly what I wanted, just that I wanted something else. Something more than what I had. On some level, I believe that I wanted her. But I let my fear and submissiveness get the better of me and chose to put my needs aside for what my husband wanted, which at the time seemed more manageable for me than having to deal with my own inner turmoil.

Throughout their entire flirtation in the beginning, she never came to me to tell me what was going on, or to question it. To this day, I don't even know if she asked my husband whether or not I knew. It might be the years that have since passed shading my opinions in this matter, but I don't believe she ever did ask him. I eventually did come to her to tell her what was going on, but I don't believe that I ever really trusted her again after that, despite our friendship continuing for another five years.

Years later, when I would say all of this out loud to a therapist, I would realize what a hard time I have accepting and advocating for my own feelings. Looking back now, I can tell you I was deeply hurt and extremely angry.

Which is probably what lead me to sleep with Him, her ex-boyfriend slash roommate, on the same night she first slept with my husband. And I did not afford her the same foreknowledge that I had.

But it wasn't all vindication. He and I had been getting very close. We worked together on a wedding I shot in Malibu. I'll never forget when we had some free time in between getting shots and we drove down to the beachier part of the beach to look for some locations to shoot the couple later. It was raining and the beach was empty, so he told me to take the car onto the sand, assuring me that it'd be fine. He was something of an expert on cars, after all. The front tires almost immediately sunk into the sand and we got stuck. As panic mounted in both of us, a friendly gentleman in a Nissan Xterra came by and offered assistance. With some pushing and revving, the car was unstuck. After our Samaritan drove off, He turned to me to apologize and wrapped his arms around me. There's something about being hugged by a person who is much taller than you. In that moment, I fell in love with him. His easy free affection was all it took.

And she had no clue about any of it because I did not do the courtesy of cluing her in. This is what is so dangerous about people who are not even aware of the emotions they're having.

Also, I knew that she would cock block. So the night that she came to my house to fuck my husband, I set up a little date with her ex boyfriend. I took him to a local bar, and explained what was happening with Her and my husband. And then I told him, "But I am here with you." Couldn't keep our hands off each other after that.

I didn't tell her until after the fact and I am positive that there was never a moment after that that she fully trusted me either. We cursed ourselves from the very beginning. And then made things truly awkward by attempting to have a four-way.

They say ignorance is bliss, but denial is true euphoria. And that is where we lived for the next 6 years. We changed our state abbreviation from CA to WA, but we lived in the same place, ignoring red flag after red flag. The chemistry was just bad. But we plundered ahead, all four of us. And when three of us lost our telecommuting jobs, it was Him that found us work again.

I hated the idea from the very beginning (red flag) but said nothing. I resented that he got her a job at the same place he'd gotten me a job and that she'd be starting the day after me, leaving me no time at all to have this one thing for myself. I knew even then that working and living with her would turn out to be a problem. And it did; when something bad happened at work, there was no escape from it at home. When something bad happened at home, there was no escape from it at work. Even though we were on opposite ends of the house, there was just no escaping it. When she was upset, there was a toxic cloud that hung over the whole house. It seeped into everything and was unescapable. It left no room for anyone else to take up any emotional space.

After a while, I stopped getting a period. But because I was living on Denial St, I ignored it for over a year. My doctors wholly admitted that they have no idea how this could have happened at such an early point in my life, but all of them speculated stress, both physical and mental. Prior to losing my period, I had lost a great deal of weight in a small time by over-exercising and under-eating. I was starving myself and then working myself to the point of exhaustion, and if this were the cause of my early menopause, I would not be surprised to find that out.

However, there was no space in my home to have any feelings about this. Because I was of a mind to never have children anyway, it was easy for most people to minimize how deeply it was affecting me, and ignore the active signs that it was doing so. And I never talked about. The feelings were too confusing, too mixed up, to talk about. I didn't understand them myself and there was no room to figure them out there.

A couple months after I got my menopause diagnosis, I started having regular panic attacks. She is the one who suggested I speak to a therapist. She's the one who recommended my first one, actually. And I am still glad that she did. My life really started to turn around at that point. I started in May of that year and by the end of the summer, I had finalized my divorce and moved into my own apartment. And later that year, I started anti depressants.

It is my belief that all of the improvements and growth in my life are what lead she and I to have our initial falling out that next Spring. Through therapy, and medication, and meditation, and all the other ways in which I was working on improving myself, I did eventually grow strong. And so did my boundaries. I started saying "No." more and "Sorry" less. And I stopped accepting unnecessary bullshit that was launched in my direction.

Especially when it is in a shared space in which professionalism is mandatory. After a five month hiatus from the office in which she recovered from an exploding kidney, I invited her to help me train a batch of new hires. During which, at some point, I explained something to one of them which was news to her. She started raising her voice in frustration, demanding to know why she was never told anything, and in general being extremely negative. To be clear, this type of behavior was just something she did. And it always bothered me - something that should be of little to no consequence to her personally, blown up in decibels and f-bombs. Like her brother dating someone she didn't approve of. Or her roommate's cousin marrying someone she didn't approve of. Or her cousin dating someone she didn't approve of. Or her aunts doing or saying something she didn't approve of. I often thought about buying her a robe and gavel for how judgmental and salty she could be to the people she supposedly loved. But I digress....

I am a deeply private person. So in that moment in our office, I was completely mortified. Here are these strangers I am trying to set a good example for, and here she comes with her Debbie Downer bullshit. I shut the conversation down as fast as I could by leaving it immediately. But later I sent a text explaining why that was over the line and why I was upset. A day later, I received some half assed apology about how she felt she was being left behind at work, and that somehow justified the disrespect. Like it was acceptable behavior because she was in pain.

I didn't respond. For one, because I was knee deep (literally) in dog fur, trying to shave my Maltese mutt. And for another, I thought that what needed to be said had been said. Her response didn't change mine. And so the next day, I went to her apartment as I did every Monday to do my laundry. As I was putting the laundry into the washing machine, I heard her bedroom door open. Before I could even look up from my dirty jeans and towels, I hear "Oh... Hi." and I turn just in time to see a flash of red hair whipping behind a slamming door.

At that point, I start to have a panic attack, assuming the slammed door was for me and my face. But I breathe through it and decide its best left aone. She's still upset and I don't have the bandwidth to find out why. I'm done volunteering for whatever that is. At work, I try to be cordial. With Him, I try to maintain boundaries and I tell him nothing that happens between she and I.

A few days go by. One night, I go pick him up and we have dinner at a diner down the street from his place. He's visibly upset, and he's using that soft whispery tone that usually precedes a fucking nightmare. Over my country fried chicken, I ask him what's wrong. He asks why I am ignoring her. I tell him I am not. And that after having a door slammed at me, I'm giving whatever she is dealing with a wide berth. He convinces me to reach out to her to try and resolve the issue.

So I try to do that. But I'm annoyed and I say entirely the wrong thing, from the very start. I tell her "Stop telling people I'm ignoring you." Rather than "I am not ignoring you, Friend. Rather trying to give you space to deal with whatever it is you're dealing with because I don't understand it"... which eventually I do say, but it's too late. My tone is too incendiary. I'm too angry now. And I no longer feel as if this is anything worth saving anymore. She feels the same way. So she tells me we can no longer be friends. I'm hurt that she said that, but more disappointed that she said it first, and I accept that this is the way things will be. I block her on every social media platform we have in common.

Things are instantly strained between He and I. I ask him repeatedly not to get involved because I will be the one accused of it. But he can't help himself from being upset because she's upset. They have no boundaries at all between them. I tell him I need a break from him. He accuses me of "dropping him" the same way I "dropped Her" And so we break up.

For about 2 months. And then one night, I happen to get a late bus out of Seattle and sit across from him. He was coming from work. And I was coming from a bar. Were it not for the tequila, I probably would never have moved next to him. We made very little conversation all the way to our bus stop. I don't remember what I said. Probably just that I missed him and that I wish things had been different. We started talking again after that. And things were better, for a time. Between he and I, anyways.

What happened then between she and I is what sealed our friendship to the annals of history forever...

One night, while late in bed, I get an email notification from tumblr telling me I had a new follower. And its Her. Through several name/address changes, on the one platform I did not think to block her from, there she was following me. Looking down on that message as it glowed up at me from under the covers, witnessing the little smirk in her user avatar, I started to shake. The blog I thought I had made for myself, similar to this one, where I had the space to ruminate and collect thoughts, had been violated and invaded. Like every other aspect of my life, by her.

I did not react well to this discovery. At first, I made several passive aggressive posts directed at her and then deleted each one. And then I went directly to her, asking her to stop as I didn't think it was appropriate for her to be following me. Her response was to laugh at me, and mock something I had said in one of the passive aggressive and deleted posts I made. I'm not ashamed to admit that my reaction was explosive. I hurled every shitty thing I could think of to say inside one sentence and then deleted the entire messaging system we were using to communicate (which at the time was Slack). Later, when I apologized for my terrible reaction, she doubled down on the insults and called me a hypocrite for expecting that there be boundaries between myself and the person who said they never wanted to speak to me again. And so a final decision was made that this was not worth saving. So I blew it up over two lengthy emails.

I don't even remember what I said. And I don't want to. I suspect my brain is protecting me like a heat shield protects a satellite that is being hurled back to earth. I do remember what she said, which is that I proved her therapists right and that I had always been a bad person. I remember this because my therapist had lead me to the same conclusion about herself. Funny how even in our friendship death, we still have things in common.

A day or two after she followed me on tumblr, I updated the configuration of my blog that said no one could access via the app that wasn’t one of my followers, essentially ensuring that whoever was going to visit my site was going to do so in broad daylight. And then I installed a counter that tracked IP addresses of visitors who came to my blog. For months, she continued to check on it. It was like she couldn’t help it. She was clearly sick. So to test the lengths to which she would go to find it, I changed the name once again and sent Him a link to a post. Lo and behold one week later, there is the entry from his phone visiting. And then a few days later another, closely followed by Her IP again. Tumblr would be the first of many spaces that she colonized and evicted me from. It's not a coincidence that I struggled to find a voice after that or that I have not been able to write with anything approaching ease in the last few years.

I didn't see her or talk to her for months. She had stopped coming into the office. I stopped hearing sirens in my head when I saw her name, so I unblocked her on social media. After all, we still share friends and having gotten what I wanted all along (space), my anger had evaporated.

But according to my boss, she still used the fact that we no longer got along as an excuse to work from home. As if I had been the one shouting at her in the office, as if I had caused a hostile work place. It's no small coincidence, in my mind, that I was let go by our boss very shortly after she returned to the office regularly. I can't prove it, but I believe she contributed to it. And unfortunately, it wouldn't be the last time she actively set out to hurt me.

When I lost my job, I lost my insurance and therefore, access to my therapist. And I had to start rationing my anti-depressants. I fell into the deepest darkest depression of my life. And it did not help that this was all in the dead of winter, when the sun barely came out long enough for me to see it and run outside. Through the rest of December and January, I submitted dozens of applications and copies of my resume. Finally, at the end of January when I had had to start cutting each of my Lexapro's in half to get by, I got a call for an interview for a company in New York. They hired me almost immediately, and before I knew it I was being sent to New York to be trained. It was right around the same time that I found out the remaining members of the team I had hired at my previous job, Her and several others had been let go unexpectedly. I'd love to say that there was no part of me that received any amount of pleasure upon hearing that, but I'd be lying. I definitely gloated. It felt good to know that things were going wrong for them, for her, when things had just started to go right for me after they messed them up so poorly. In all of my self righteousness I opined to a mutual friend about how bleak Her household must be because I believed it probably was. It sucks to lose one's job and I would know all about that. That mutual friend, knowing that I had a relationship with Him at this time, mistook my opinion as though I had heard it was bleak in the household directly from Him. So the next time our mutual friend spoke with Her, our mutual friend voiced some concerns about the state of how things were going for the two of them. Her spoke to Him later, demanding to know why He is telling me in particular that things in their house are not fine. Which leads him to send a group chat message...

It's 7AM EST early February and I'm in the Best Western of Troy, New York reading my text messages. He has sent one to our entire friend group, demanding that if any of us are speaking about him to stop it immediately; leave him out of all conversation - She is upset that there has been any talk at all. I tell him that request is impossible as we're all friends who care about each other and I refuse to be isolated in any way from any of them. Meanwhile, sirens are going off in my head. I hear my mother's voice, warning me about domestic abusers who isolate their victims from their friends to perpetuate their abuse. I silence it. After all, I still live on the corner of Denial St and The-Dick- Is-Big Ave.

Eventually, a one-on-one conversation is started between He and I. He insinuates that it is the group chat itself that is the issue, because she is not allowed to be in it. I tell him I think it's valid that she is not in it as I am, and I want her to remain firmly out of my space. Which is a mutual feeling between the two of us, or so I thought. And anyway, I tell him, it's her that has me blocked on every social media platform we had in common.

It's at this point he calls me a liar. And it's at this point the story should have ended but I still have a severe lack of love for myself, no therapeutic support, am low on my anti depressants, and completely isolated in New York for the next two weeks.

He tells me he has her search for me on Facebook and Instagram and she finds nothing, which proves that it is I that have her blocked therefore I it is me doing the lying. Which, anyone who knows anything about social media will tell you, this is expected behavior if you have someone blocked. But he hardly ever engages with social media, let alone take the time to understand it, so this is lost on him.

I'm immediately triggered. I have to leave the office where I'm being trained for my new job and walk back to my hotel to catch my breath before I vomit up the coffee and cake that our sales manager brought as a welcome gift. The words "At this point, yeah I do think you're lying." keep swimming back up to me from a little grey bubble. I call him and scream into his voicemail. "...I do think you're lying to me," ... My hands practically vibrating, I take a screen recording of all of my blocked lists and send it to him. "...you're lying to me..." I black out for a moment, thoughts of my mothers fists raining down on me as I'm being called a liar in the backseat of her car. I sob into my hotel pillow. I feel broken.

But it’s the middle of the day, I’ve had this job for all of two days and I cannot be having a massive freak out this early on. I take one of my precious remaining Ativan and try to breathe. Eventually, I calm myself. In a sick twist, I end up apologizing to him for screaming and overreacting. I open myself up further and explain to him why being called a liar is a trigger for me. This was a pattern with us; The only way he ever had compassion for me when we argued (and sometimes when we weren't) was when I spelled out exactly what I was going through. I thought if I was honest about my feelings with him, he would treat me with more dignity. But as a matter of fact, it turned out when I was crying on his shoulder, he felt as if I was manipulating him. He told me that once when I called him, sad because someone I had a crush on had started dating someone else. I was never sure what I was supposedly manipulating him to do. Spend time with me? Show concern for me? But despite that, I take a huge risk, expose my jugular to him again and beg for him to understand where I am coming from.

He apologizes. He comes over and we have a quiet talk. For a very short time, things go back to whatever normal is to us. We're communicating a little more and I think we're being more honest. But things aren't the same. We're still very vulnerable. I never knew if he sensed that or not. I'd like to believe that if he did, his behavior would have been different. But his behavior remained rough, and careless.

A little over a month after I returned from New York, he had invited me to his house while she was away. The entire experience was unnerving. For one, the apartment felt cold and dark. It was not very inviting. For another, He was relegated to sleeping on a roll up mat on the floor while She had a bed and a closing door with a closet and a window. This really bothered me. I thought there would be more of a separation, or a at least a clear division of space. A boundary. I look desperately for boundaries, but there were none. Her makeup vanity was directly behind his work desk and above the space he used to sleep in. And there was no trace of me there at all. But of course there wouldn't be. She wouldn't allow it. And he never cared enough about me to change that in any sense. So I started to really see for the first time that our relationship was just sex for him. I couldn't see clearly that we even had a friendship anymore and this really bothered me.

I wanted to talk to him about it, and I asked him if we could. I'm not even sure what I wanted to say, but I just needed reassurance that he was still friends with me. That he still liked me. That he was, even though he was far away, still somewhat in my corner. I was feeling anxious, I was low on my medicine, with no therapist, working 12 hour days and still broke from being unemployed for months. I just wanted to talk and have him reassure me that at the very least, he was there for me and would be there for me. He agreed to that and we scheduled a time to talk, because at that point he was extremely busy with work and trying to balance everything, as was I. The afternoon we had worked out to talk comes and goes, and I don't hear from him. I message him and I express annoyance because we had plans, but he tells me that he had an outing with Her, and it went long. And then he expresses annoyance at me for being annoyed at him. He goes on the defensive. I completely unravel over a string of messages, which of course are poorly timed and one right after the other, which I know he hates. He engages his favorite tactic which is to leave the conversation entirely, tell me he's not speaking to me for a while, and then come back at his whim. He does this over a few days. He responds to each of my texts individually, escalating in each response until he's screaming at me in all caps and has worked himself back into the rage which makes him walk away.

I'm at the point where I'm looking at this pile of garbage relationship which has twice in the past two months shoved me into two of the worst, most ill-timed panic attacks I've ever had - and finally I hear my therapist's voice ring back to me as clear as a bell: He will never leave her, and he will never choose you. Everything that my denial had been holding at bay like a sweet little naïve raincloud crashed down all at once around me with the force of a tornado. It was the way there was never any compassion or kindness shown to me at the worst time of my life. It was the way he called me a liar and a manipulator when I was trying to include him in my deepest most personal feelings and experiences. It was the way he never noticed that I was blowing up my life with alcohol or that I was deeply depressed. It was the way he lied over and over again, telling me that he cared about me and then turning around to demonstrate why that wasn't actually true. It was the way I had to bend over backwards to accommodate his feelings, while there was never any room for mine.

And so, as anticlimactically as it began, our relationship finally ended. I don't even remember what the final blow was, or what I said in response. No doubt something shaky and angry and ugly. But I have never regretted it. For as ugly as I know it probably was, I do not regret it. My life, my health both mental and physical, has improved exponentially since that day in late April.

But if there is a hopeful epilogue to the story, it would pick up six months later when I had settled into my new place in the city, to be closer to work. I started to feel those pangs again. Those little flighty feathery feelings that can be so strong they echo across decades with such intensity that you can almost physically feel their presence inside your skin where they hibernate. It was the same feeling that made me sit down next to him on the bus all that time ago. I missed him. In spite of everything that happened, everything I learned, and went through, I did. But it wasn't until I started to feel as though I missed Her too that I knew I had to get back into therapy. A queer friend of mine who had been struggling through their own relationship issues, suggested a co-op place in Seattle they'd been using which was geared specifically to women and those who identify as such. Signing up with them was probably the best decision I'd end up making in my 30's. The therapist I was paired with was understanding, validating, and I never sensed once that she was bored with anything I had to say. She equipped me with the best tools to deal with my feelings, she taught that it's okay to love and protect myself through setting and maintaining healthy boundaries. And the best part about her is that she herself maintained extremely healthy boundaries. I never knew more about her than I needed to know. Yet I felt like I connected with her on a very deep level. And through talking to her, working with her, I was able to fully understand and appreciate what I had just been through, and how to exercise compassion for myself when I would find myself in situations where I would start reliving all of that trauma. Because of her, I found myself again. Or maybe I found myself for the first time. She helped me understand the feelings I'd been having for years but hadn't had the space or emotional support to explore. She helped me put a name to a feeling I’d had since childhood but never knew there was a word for. Not long after I started working with her, I came out as non-binary. Through our work, I found a deep well of love for myself that allows me to firmly (but with patience and love) define and protect my boundaries, and still have enough energy left over show interest, compassion and love for others in their journeys. And I stopped trying to avoid feeling like shit through drinking. Literally, everything became better a result of my therapist's influence on me.

But try as I might, there are some days in the year where my mind wanders back to the grey north where I tried to make a home. When I can almost hear the drizzle of rain in Occidental Park as I cried my eyes out there over something He said. In my mind's eye, I turn away, but the neighborhood is haunted with these types of traumas for me. Nowhere is safe, my mind panics, and I get turned around in the horrid memories; screaming at each other on 1st Avenue outside E Smith, sobbing so hard on 2nd that a stranger asked me if I was okay, countless arguments in the park that followed us to the bus stop and back to our home. Eventually, my mind grows desperate for answers, and it carries me back in time... all the way back to 2010 at Macy's when it began, and the loop starts again.

Which brings me to today. I've lost count of how many times we've been down this road. But I know grief is hard. And so is recovery. One of the ways in which I see to my recovery now is to write more. I don't usually publish what I write because it's just for me and I still have a lot of residual anxiety about posting anything personal online. Another reason is that my writing is so fluid that publishing it seems too final. Like... what if I change my mind about that way I've structured a sentence? What if I think of a better way to phrase that feeling? What if I change my mind entirely about the thing that I've written about? ...Why use a period if I could use a comma?

But I'm publishing this note anyway. For you, future Holly. Because you need this to be over. And because whenever we get into this rut, the only thing we seem to be able to do to stop ourselves from missing them and reminiscing about the good times is to walk ourselves through the trauma that they ended up causing. Which is effective in getting the sad feelings to stop, but you know is burning you alive on the inside. And so I'm writing this note to tell you (future me) that we don't have to do that anymore. You can set these thoughts and feelings down in language and writing, and be done. You can publish them, and move on. You can walk away. Put a period on the end of the sentence and close the book.

But if you ever feel as though you need to mutilate yourself mentally by trying to list it all out again, so that you can poke it and dissect it and review it in triplicate... I will be here. Waiting to remind you that nothing you have ever done disqualifies you from being afforded compassion and kindness. Waiting to remind you that you deserve better friends, better love, than those that would afford you only scraps. Waiting to remind you that your anger is valid, along with your hurt and your sadness. And also waiting to remind you that this is temporary. These feelings are temporary. Give yourself the space today to feel what you are feeling. Let yourself be sad. Let yourself be angry. And tomorrow when you wake up, let it all go.

I love you. -H

#note to self #aubviously #muad-dweeb #fear is the mind killer #holly hearts

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lansdellicious · 4 years

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Being Not OK

Almost everything I post on this blog is about food. As a writer at heart though, sometimes I need a place to express other things that really aren’t for Facebook, but are important to share. Normalizing these things is important to me, and the catharsis provided by putting feelings into words is not to be understated. In case you haven’t realised, this is very much not a food post. It will contain some topics that may be triggering for some, so feel free to click away now. I don’t anticipate this being an easy read.

For most of this isolation period, I was fine. I made a concerted effort to check in with friends, I was keeping my mood light, and aside from some “survivor’s” guilt over getting paid despite being unable to work I was largely unscarred mentally.I was able and happy to use my extra emotional bandwidth to support my loved ones who needed it, and all was well.

I’m not sure when it changed. I am what you might call an introverted extrovert; while I love being around people and adore performing and the spotlight, I need my alone time to decompress and “decontaminate” to a degree. A combination of the destruction of my routine, an inability to get the level of exercise I need, the slow onset of self-loathing as I felt my fitness slipping away, a hefty slice of cabin fever, the inability to see and hug my friends, the panic of the general public, the stupidity of some members of that public, losing my cat after 14 years of companionship (and the sickness the came before it), and the cycle of frustration and anger that went with it - it’s been hard. I am lucky enough to have a super-strong family support network who understand my needs to get me through, at least to the point I’m at now where I am somewhat close to functioning below par.

I have always been proud of my talent for listening to people. I’ve been told that I am easy to talk to, that I listen well, that I give good advice. I try to understand and to learn all I can about people because I genuinely care, and I think that makes me a better listener and support person. My fiancée calls me (jokingly...I hope) Lucifer because I seem to have a talent for making people comfortable enough to share things with me they otherwise would not share with anyone. All these little things that were weighing on me left me feeling like I couldn’t offer that support to people who needed it. Now for many people that would be an intelligent, self-preserving decision. For me though, I derive genuine joy from helping others. It might actually go beyond that, to the point where I need it on some level to feel valued and to earn the gratitude of others. I got angry with myself because I could not fill that role, and then got frustrated with myself for getting angry with myself. I knew I was doing it to save myself and practice some self-care, but that didn’t seem to be enough for some part of my asshole brain.

Over the past couple of years I have been working hard to change me on a body and fitness level. It was slow going and it took effort, but I was finally getting to a point where I was proud of what I had accomplished and starting to like how I was looking. I have joked that my Fitbit now thinks I sold it, because my average daily step count is literally a third of what it was. I can’t go to the gym. I tried using resistance bands but there’s only so many times I can do the same things before it becomes boring. I have not weighed myself, but I know I am not in the shape I was. And that hurts, because I know how hard it was to get here and I know I had work still to do, and now I am set back. I get that I am not alone, and I know I can do it again, but still...irrational brain is irrational.

It’s been a week now since I lost Vader. He was sick for at least a week before that, although we didn’t know it. I cried more in that week between vet visits than in the three prior years combined. Until that time, I never really understood the people who talked about “fur babies” and the depth of the love some people seemed to have for their pets. I loved Vader, sure, but I somehow made it to 41 without ever having to make the call to say goodbye to a pet. The only loved ones I can remember losing, my two maternal grandparents, both died while I was in Canada and they were in England, and the distance insulated me. Vader was the first loved one I had to watch deteriorate, the first pet I had to lose. I was not prepared for the pain. Strangely though, it seems to have unclogged my emotional drain if you will. After 14 years of watching me cry, struggle, wallow, try and fail to find happiness, and finally find it, I lost my most loyal and consistent companion and friend...and he still found a way, in leaving me, to make me better. The inability to cry has plagued me, and I knew it needed to change but nothing I tried would work. Now, I feel like my full range of emotions is open to me again.

It’s ironic that I, as a person who will tell all and sundry that therapy is excellent and that everyone should see a therapist, have resisted going for so long. I have spent so long analyzing myself and trying to understand things that I had myself convinced that I would not be a good candidate for it, because I will see through everything and just game the system. That’s ludicrous of course, but so is everything else I have been feeling. It’s not out of fear of the stigma that I haven’t seen a professional, it’s hubris that I could do this on my own, or that others needed me, or some other confluence of nonsense that made me think I knew better than...myself, really. I will be getting help.

I would not be able to say all this were it not for some wonderful friends and the most amazing family. I don’t need to list the people who have held me up; they know who they are and they should know that I love them endlessly. I love love, giving it and receiving it. It’s something else that I feel needs to be normalised, the expression of platonic love and the comfort to admit that we need each other as humans. Independence is desirable and admirable but ultimately not the only trait worth pursuing. Even the most independent among us will occasionally need others, not for validation or completion but for amplification. Love amplifies us.

I don’t really know why I felt like I had to write this. I don’t know if it’s finished. I know it feels better now though.If you stuck with me all the way, thanks and I’m sorry you were that bored! I love you all. Be well.

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ninjasmart · 5 years

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I know it’s easy to laugh at them but it’s actually kind of sad if you think about it they want to be fd either for escapism like maybe they don’t have a social life or home life or they have really low esteem. I admit I like to escape from my problems but I think maybe a healthier option for these girls that identify with fd so strongly should probably try directing that escapism into jdramas like Hana Nochi hare or webtoons like true beauty it has the sort of plot lines these girls want

Let us separate the behavior from the character of a person. The first one is a coping mechanism and the other one is offensive. Staying clear of being offensive let’s talk about escapism.

It is a good way to escape reality where there’s something painful in your reality that you don’t like to face and you’r rather avoid it than look at it. An example is - you don’t have friends or you don’t have a boyfriend or you come from a broken family with lots of drama or you’re all on your own in the world or you don’t have enough money. You feel that you don’t have the capacity to face that reality and instead you binge watch tv or follow a celebrity’s private life falling apart in front of your life.

Then you can say to yourself: Look, I don’t have a family but in Fuller house there’s so much love and togetherness; Look, I don’t have friends but in Sex and the City and in Friends there’s so much togetherness; Look, I don’t have a special someone in my life but boy, those Hallmark movies make me believe in love again and maybe my love will be around the corner; Look, I don’t have enough money but boy, are the people in Dynasty total nutjobs.

Escapism allows you to nurture your wounds in a dreamland and that’s ok as long as you don’t loose touch with reality cause your own life happens in reality and this is where you need to change things if you want something else to happen to you.

Positive examples of fulfilling your emotional needs somewhere else is art therapy or manual work at home or in the garden. Moms everywhere in the world admit more and more that me-time where they switch off from their many roles and read a book is helping them re-charge their batteries.

Escapism on it own is not a bad thing. I personally have a mop around Mondays. I hate Mondays and how everyone must go to work and work hard so on that day I schedule a couple of hours for a complete switch off from the busyness of the week ahead and thus I have a mini Sunday on that day.

The problem comes when you vicariously live in the alternate reality - with the tv shows, the books, the concerts, the self improvement seminars, the gossip magazines, the number of likes on facebook or instagram. What you get is the result of banging your head on the wall and hoping that there’s a door you can walk through instead. Just like with the alcoholics - the answer is not there. The answer is in going back to reality and facing it with all of its problems. It will not be pretty, it will hurt but in the end you’ll know where to start from.

The dangerous part is to really, really want to be with someone you have never met with. There’s not that many convinced to the marrow of their bones FDs around but still. I’ll explain one more time what fancying a man who is waaay out of your orbit means. Choosing such fancies, long distance relationships, partners that are impossible loves (other faith, or race, or social standing, or different country, even continent, etc) - these are all symptoms of the same problem that the lady has. This is the problem with commitment.

The lady chooses relationships that are doomed to fail because it’s less scary to not fully open your heart and your trust but to just know that it won’t work out. In other words it’s easier (or so it seems) to break your heart a little every time an impossible love falls apart than to open your heart fully, dive in and end up with your heart broken in a million peaces. And that’s not a girls only problem. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve even seen guys who have in their head the image of the ideal woman for them and if you’re with such guy you know that you’re competing against an impossible standard. He’ll try to mold you into the ideal one in his head but you’re doomed to never be as perfect as the one in his head. After some time the guy will dump you so that he devotes all his free time to fantasize about this ideal woman in his head with whom he has a relationship in his head while he’s spending the nights alone in his bed.

By the way, drama sister here :) I don’t have the bandwidth for it right now or in the next 2 months but when I do, oh boy.

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leoninapelliolovesconchitawurst · 4 years

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ENGLISH TRANSLATION (by me)

Wurst in the old FM4 Studio

Photo by Lukas Lottersberger

"I am both Conchita and WURST."

By Daniela Derntl

https://fm4.orf.at/stories/2995448/

Songcontest winner Tom Neuwirth has on his new album "T.O.M. - Truth Over Magnitude quasi reinvented "as WURST. Instead of Conchita's glamorous diva ballads, evening gowns and wigs, there's now danceable electro-pop, vinyl, leather and sex. A conversation about the new record, self-discovery, the jurors activity on "Queen of Drags" and the upcoming tour.

FM4: Recently your new record "T.O.M. - Truth Over Magnitude "came out. And that's also your debut album for your new project WURST. The CD has been out for a few weeks. How were the reactions?

WURST: The reactions were very positive. I think I was the least nervous. Probably the people around me a little more, because you do not know if that happens or not. I was extremely pleased that what was happening was understood , and the music is also liked. I love this album, I can hear it up and down, which is not so obvious to me. I'm more of the category: I do not look and listen to my own stuff. But I love this album!

FM4: Which song is on Heavy Rotation right now?

WURST: Currently it's "Can’t Come Back" because I'm going to perform live soon, in a very special cast. And that's why I have to listen to it a bit, so I know the text. It's always a story with the text. Sometimes I like to improvise.

FM4: I also wanted to talk to you about this song anyway. Because it is interesting that you speak now also as WURST in dialect, and before as Conchita only spoke High German. Are there any other entrances when singing? Because in this just mentioned "Can’t Come Back", you also sound quite different, especially at the beginning of the song.

WURST: I sing so deeply, like never before, and that's actually not that easy. So to intonate is a challenge. But that's also a point of this album that I can really show my full range. And also show a bandwidth that I did not even know I had.

WURST about the start of the new project

FM4: When was it clear to you that Conchita could not go on like that - and you have to change. When was the starting signal for the new project?

WURST: The starting signal came after the decision that things could not go on like this. I think - quite banal - when I got up, and was no longer happy and had no mood for anything. I put that on for a few months, and I thought, yes, that will be all right. But it did not happen again. And then I dealt with myself. Then I also started talking therapy because I thought I could not go on alone, I seemed to need a new input somehow. That helped me a lot. And then I also really understood that I am responsible for my own life and I cannot fool around and say: They do not understand me. And they did not understand me. No! I did not understand it anymore and that's why I had to do something new.

FM4: What other insights have you got there, especially on the artistic path?

WURST: First and foremost, I looked closely at my ego and thought about how I go through the world and how to deal with people. Whether I'm really as fabulous as I think? And unfortunately we are not all! (laughs) We hurt people with our behaviour, and seeing and accepting that in its entirety has given me, I believe, this freedom boost to do something where nobody would have said, yes! Electropop! Great idea! And with that freedom it was ‘wurst’ (not important) for me. I did not care, I just had to do it, and then it all happened.

WURST about working with Eva Klampfer and Albin Janoska

FM4: So you had to go through a dark tunnel and then, together with songwriter Eva Klampfer aka Lylit and producer Albin Janoska, saw a light together at the end of the tunnel? Can one say that?

WURST: Definitely! I have wandered through many songwriting camps in recent years. Unsuccessful, because I'm not terribly talented when it comes to it. And then, by some coincidence, Severin Trogbacher, who plays the guitar in my band and is also my band leader, introduced me to Albin Janoska. And Albin says: Would you like to work with Eva? And I thought, that is not possible. You travel all over Europe to somehow write songs, and then they're all sitting there waiting.

FM4: Albin Janoska maybe known from Count Basic ...

WURST: He also produces Count Basic and son. You listen to the record, and understand what it's all about!

FM4: Eva Klampfer aka Lylit wrote the songs for you. And I've read - and I'm asking you now if that's true - that the character WURST was created while working on the album. So it was not clear at the beginning who the songs would be written for now?

WURST: Exactly! Eva and I have talked a lot about who this is for now. What is my name? Is that somehow okay? Actually, some songs were finished and I knew that "Trash All The Glam" would be the first single. That was the moment we sat together and kind of wondered what the video might look like. And I'm a very visual person and it just came suddenly. We went on location scouting and we just saw this shot that I was driving down the escalator, and then I said: There must be WURST in red letters like an exit sign. That was a moment when everything was clear to me. That's it: I'm both Conchita and WURST. It's so absurd, if you think about it in hindsight. It all happened to me by accident. But that's me. I love kitsch and pomp, and all the madness that the show business brings with it, but I like it a bit rude, simpler, clearer and without much frills.

WURST has reconciled with Conchita

FM4: You've reconciled yourself to Conchita through this metamorphosis? Can you say that?

WURST: Yes. In fact, I almost fell into the same trap again, because at the beginning of the project WURST I thought to myself: Now there are no high heels and wigs anymore, and the look is that, and blah. And then I'm like this: Oh wow! I'm doing the same thing again as I did before and restricting myself again. Of course, then came this TV show "Queen Of Drags" where it was all about showing all facets. Then I painted myself, and thought: Oh, there she is! And she is more beautiful than ever! And I think I did not get away from the mirror for half an hour because I thought: Oh yes! (Laughing). I love it!

WURST about his future plans

FM4: I have the impression that your metamorphosis is far from complete. You have a lot more sides, people, maybe even a whole ensemble in the quiver?

WURST: Yes, I also believe that there is still something in me that I do not yet know about. I also do not think that for ever and ever I'll just "stay in the music" under quotes. I also want to design sets, I also want to do fashion, I want to be a director and scream at actors. I want to write a musical about my life, because the boy from the mountains who wins the song contest is like "Sound Of Music". Sorry! And that's the way it will sound (laughs). Of course I'm wondering what the next one might be because the album is out now and I'm going on tour with it next year. I'm looking forward to it, but I do not want a standstill. I stir around a bit ...

WURST about "Queen Of Drags"

FM4: You're now also a juror on the new German TV show "Queen Of Drags", and there it hails from the queer community criticism of your co-juror Heidi Klum, because she has nothing to do with Queer and Drag. You clearly defend your colleague. But it's pretty much off, right?

WURST: Yes, fully. For one thing, I think everyone has an opinion. Hey, awesome! What this outcry from the community has just shown is that your character does not depend on your sexual orientation, because this community wants so much inclusion and understanding, and then somehow that does not work out. I find that a bit contradictory now. Yes, of course, there are not only fans of Heidi Klum, and I did not know her before either, and I have to say that this collaboration was just easy. And she was fully aware that it was somehow controversial, and she was just so respectful and so inside, asking questions without end, just wanting to be a part of it. I think that when it comes to judging candidates, we've always wanted to judge whether they're getting better. Because I would like to have all these ten Queens have a career after that and live on it. And I would like to give them what I have already learned.

FM4: Drag culture is also about body positivity. And that's just Heidi Klum as an executioner of "Germanys Next Top Model" not necessarily the right thing for something?

WURST: Yes, "Germanys Next Top Model" is a completely different format. And absolutely right there was a body awareness that was mediated, which is definitely not healthy. But even in this program, there was a learning process that has seen over the last few years.

WURST about pink-washing

FM4: Another reproach on the show was also the so-called "Pink Washing". So that now a broadcaster and a presenter who otherwise have nothing to do with this queer culture and scene capitalize on it. And you're almost the queer fig leaf on the whole. What do you say?

WURST: That's an absolutely legitimate comment. I want to say that I use it as well. Because I did not know Heidi before either, but she gives us the best slot on one of the biggest private channels to show what the queer community has on it to show people what's left. Of course! Excuse me! I get it - pinkwashing, et cetera. But I also take advantage of it to show how cool it is to be casual with each other, and how great it is to be supported. And how great it is when everyone can just be what he wants to be. And I love that too on this show. It works like nothing else. But when it comes down to it, keep it together. And I think that's exactly what it's about!

WURST about the Eurosonic Festival

FM4: Let's talk about your upcoming tour. In January you play at the Eurosonic Festival in Groningen, and that's a showcase festival for newcomers. And you're not really a newcomer anymore! But how is it for you to start from the beginning? Smaller halls to play, maybe not so many amenities to have. What is it like for you playing at a newcomer festival?

WURST: I think it's so cool that I'm allowed to get involved with the cool kids, and of course I'm really looking forward to this festival because it's something new for me. I do not know this kind of festival. Especially not as an artist. And I do not know the audience. And that's why I feel like a newcomer. But I'm no longer a newcomer in that sense, I realize. But I said it aloud, and now everyone believes it! (Laughing).

WURST about the concerts in Poland

FM4: No one believes you! It will also be exciting for you at the beginning of February, as you will play twice in Poland, in Warsaw and in Krakow. And the head of the Polish governing party PIS this year has declared homosexuals and transgender people to be "enemies of the state". So you can only be there with massive protective measures and safety precautions. How are you doing there? On the one hand you want to set a signal, on the other hand it is not without danger.

WURST: Yes, on the one hand, I am a pretty unconscious lamb when it comes to that, because in my opinion I always see only the good. I once had personal security for 24 hours when I was in St. Petersburg. That feels weird. I do not know if it will be the case in Poland. I do not want to sound cynical, but I - as such a public person - already have some protection because of this publicity, because if anything should happen then it would attract a lot of attention. And that's why I may not see my safety in the foreground right now. I'm just happy that I can play there for my fans, because I have so many from the East, and I just want to have a great time with them!

FM4: Thanks for the interview and all the best!

#conchitawurst #wurst #tomneuwirth #singer #artist #esc2014 #escwinner #music #performer #celebrity #lgbt #interview #translation

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newbi-ginning · 5 years

Text

More of my bistory... (bi-story?)

So... why now?

(This took a long time to finish, a lot of days coming back to it to add or reframe something. If you think that someone could benefit, please share this with them.)

I’m ok with not getting the clue until now, late bloomer (flower out of season or obit for old fashioned underwear? you decide) and all. But why did it take this long to figure it out? Part of it was the culture I grew up in, and part of it is that I was so attracted to the opposite sex that I didn’t have the bandwidth to notice guys.

When I was a little kid, like kindergarten age, I had two really good friends, we’ll call them Jack and Jill. Jack was my friend that I hung out with all the time, and had sleepovers with, but I crushed hard on Jill. I didn’t save points from some ridiculous school fundraiser to buy a pretty necklace for Jack... but I did for Jill.

There was one playing doctor episode with another boy, which has always creeped me out when I think about it. I don’t know where he got the idea, was it his invention or something taught to him? I made a point of not staying in contact with him... and he wouldn’t have been my type, regardless. Creepy.

Middle school, no guy crushes, piles of girl crushes, nothing interesting so let’s skip ahead. High school, still all girl crushes, all girlfriends, probably 95% straight wet dreams, started a collection of porn mags, all very straight... except for the bisexual section of Penthouse Letters. I mean, I paid for it, I’m gonna read every damn page looking for something to give me an excuse to jack off over. Most followed a trope of being at an orgy or couples swap and finding a dick conveniently in mouth’s reach to suck, that it was fun, writer might do it again, no big deal.

So it wasn’t that I didn’t know it was an option, but in the throes of the gonadal madness called puberty, Amok Time... the light coming from girls and women was a supernova, but from other boys and men, just a candle. This moth was heading towards the brighter of the two.

College, not much changed. The signal from WOMN-FM was 100k watts and five by five. The KOCK station was barely 50 watts and was on the other side of the Mississippi. A bit of that broadcast might sneak through on a clear night and remind my brain to sneak a guy into a sex dream.

Some guy friends were a bit more interesting than others. But nothing overpowered my interest in women, especially when I was in a relationship with one. Boobs are fucking hypnotic when you have permission to play with them! And when you don’t, the key to not being hypnotized by them is to not stare. Don’t make eye contact with the breasts, make eye contact with the person.

Grad school... A couple guys were a bit more than interesting, but that was it. I got married, and my world was focused on Her. Its not like I didn’t find other people attractive, I found some of my classmates to be incredibly attractive, one coworker was a bombshell and a half, but I never felt drawn to cheat. Instead, I had a lot of a really good friends. (This is also when I am pretty sure a couple was feeling me out for a threesome.)

Damn, but grad school is stressful. Thankfully, we found good doctors that worked with both of us to find medications that helped us cope with the mental illnesses that grad school brought to the fore. Depression. Anxiety. For me, my PTSD had put me in a constant state of hypervigilance, caused me to freeze and withdraw when my brain responded to anything it considered a threat, neglecting my research duties, my responsibilities as a spouse and partner, and broke my sleep up with waking from nightmares where I was being physically attacked by throwing kicks and punches before I was fully aware that I was safe, it had been a dream, and that isn’t a good thing when you are sleeping next to someone.

Clonazepam helped a hell of a lot with sleep disturbances, but it wiped out most of my memories of dreams. I happily exchanged both nightmares and sexy dreams for pleasant and restful sleep. But every now and then, one slipped in. Some were sexy and fun, some were horrible, but they were both rare.

Without medication and therapy, I wouldn’t have finished my PhD. I would probably be divorced and remarried (probably several times, like most of my siblings. My whole family needs help, but most won’t seek it out. I’ve tried to encourage them to do so... You can bring a horse to water, but you can’t make it stay in the kitchen. (That was a joke. Sorry.)

And I definitely don’t think I would be in as good of a place as I am now to deal with this change so easily and healthfully. Bi people have higher rates of mental illness than lesbian or gay people, so I was ahead of the curve. I was already diagnosed and receiving treatment, and I had learned a lot of ways to control intrusive thoughts, whether they were self abuse... or just homoerotic. Now I don’t have to push the homoerotic ones aside. I can choose to set them aside if they are inappropriate, or just smile to myself.

Graduation, a couple “real” jobs, some world travel, and a trend starts to show up in my sex dreams, sometimes wet, sometimes just sexy. Some were a bit kinky, most were straight, but a lot of them included me sucking cock. How is that straight? Most of the time, I was sucking my own dick (which, as a teenager, I had already determined was impossible for me). That was fun and it felt good to do to myself what had only been done to me. Other times, I was sucking someone else’s dick. That was very hot, too. That felt really good, too.

This is when I had some of my first really strong guy crushes. We would be hanging out, and if we were alone, I’d want to make out with them, or push them back in a chair to go down on them. WTF, brain?

🧠 What the heart wants, the heart wants.

❤️ Don’t blame me, jackass, I’m just here to pump some iron (rich blood)!

A couple of these crushes were on openly gay men, so potential openness probably played a part to my attraction, and that was probably why I had such intense feelings for them. I would just want to kiss them, fool around a bit, see what happened. I basically told my brain to shut it, and moved on.

🧠 You should listen to me. I know you. I have your best interests at heart.

Bullshit. If you had our best interests at heart, you wouldn’t torment me over things that happened 30 years ago.

❤️ Don’t bring me into this! I have one job, and that is pumping! CARDIO, BABY! WOOOOOO!

I also deconverted, realized that I no longer believed in a god or anything supernatural, so I have no reason to think these lusty thoughts are shameful. My wedding vows were always to Her, and still are. It was important to me then that we were married in a church. Now, that is just a detail in the most wonderful days of my life.

If you are thinking of leaving religion or already have, the Recovering from Religion group can help you deal with any trauma you experienced in religion, fears or guilt from the religion you have left, being shunned, or are facing social pressure from your friends. You can find them on the Recovering from Religion website, social media, or by phone (1-844-368-2848, which is, clever them, 1-8-I-DOUBT-IT).

If I had the same feelings about a woman or NB person, I would have told my brain to shut up, I’d get back to that later, and it went into the spank bank. The guy crushes were just suppressed, and they found their expression in my dreams. but now, I recognize that this is a valid and real part of my life.

There are a lot of things I want to try, but I don’t know that I need to try them. If it becomes a need, we will need to reevaluate our boundaries. We have a different relationship now compared to what we had a year ago, ten years ago, or even twenty. This year has already brought a big change in who I am, and this year will probably include some more changes. Ten years from now, I don’t know what our relationship will look like... but I want to be with Her, because She has helped me grow so much already. When you have something this good...

The simple answer to “Why now?” is I don’t really know. I just really preferred women that I didn’t notice that I liked guys, and when I had those feelings, I treated them like an unwanted, intrusive thought. It took me this long to figure it out because it took me this long.

Is a puddle designed to fit into a pothole, or does it simply flow to fit the hole that it is in? (apologies to the late Douglas Adams) Pretty clearly, it fits the hole. My life may have had the shape of a bisexual man all along, but I just didn’t notice it.

I’m happy to be bisexual now, instead of in high school, where I would have been bullied even more than I already was. If I had realized this in high school, I would have survived and found my way.

College would have been similarly difficult. College, I would have had friends that would have supported me.

Grad school was enough all on its own. But now, I can do this. I can be me. Grad school... Fuck grad school. If I could handle that, I can handle damn near anything. I would have been ok. A bit more bruised, maybe, but I’m here now, and its because I always believed that this could get better.

And it did.

I’m in a very good place.

I’m Bisexual today.

I was Bisexual then, even if I didn’t know it.

I’ll be Bisexual tomorrow.

#bisexual #bisexual visibility #coming out #bi #bisexual me #retrospective #late bloomer

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