#chronic anxiety
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@ my fellow chronically ill/disabled/neurodivergent folks:
friendly reminder that just because you CAN do something doesn't mean you SHOULD and that it isn't harmful for you !!!
be kind to yourself please 🫶
#ily all#its been a difficult stretch and i needed this so im guessing more of us do too#reminder#!!#chronically ill#chronic illness#chronic anxiety#chronic fatigue#mental health#disabled#disability#neurodivergent
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What others see What | feel inside
Always on time — Intense distress and panic when late.
Strong work ethic — Intense fear of doing anything wrong & getting criticized, fired, or punished.
Always in control — Fearing that something will go terribly wrong if l am not in control.
Good at planning — I always need to be prepared for all of the worst-case scenarios to the point that it often overwhelms me.
Very organized — Being organized helps me manage the intense feeling of being constantly overwhelmed.
Super helpful — I'm afraid of what other people will think if I disappoint them and say no.
Zen & relaxed — Implementing coping skills feels like a full-time job. I'm always "coping".
Self-assured — Worrying that if I don't come off as capable | will let others down.
Calm & composed — Constantly in freeze mode to the point that l often check-out and feel numb.
Self-Love Rainbow
#anxiety#what it can look like#what it feels like#high anxiety#chronic anxiety#feel free to share and reblog#Self-Love Rainbow (Facebook)
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Living with avoidant behaviours means that for you to see me and be able to judge me, good or bad, inherently it means I am trying. Maybe not by yours, but by my standards I am succeeding too.
I don't think people understand how earth shatteringly terrifying it is to look for new jobs or meet new people with a panic disorder or social phobia. It puts me in a mindset where I have to actively remind myself that ending my life to escape the perceived danger is counterproductive, I am that out of my mind with panic. I know it doesn't make sense but knowing that doesn't stop the visceral fear from being so real. I wish people knew I don't want to be this way and I am actively fighting against it at all times even when it looks to others like I'm hiding away. The fact that I am still here, the fact that I answer messages sometimes and visit my family, the fact that I apply for jobs and leave the house to run errands at all is testament to how hard I'm trying.
If I stopped trying and gave in to my default state I would be shrivelled and pasty, dehydrated and sick from being too numb to feed myself, curled half-conscious and unshowered in grimy bed sheets, covered in nervous-picking sores, popping pills or drinking myself into slumber. I would not speak to a soul, not even immediate family. I wouldn't post at all. You would not know I exist.
For you to see me and be able to judge me, inherently means I am trying. Because I'm here and I'm not just awake. I'm the scariest thing I can be - perceivable.
#personal#avpd#actually avpd#actually avoidant#avoidant personality disorder#chronic anxiety#anxiety disorder#social anxiety disorder#social phobia#agoraphobia
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Sis just left me alone at hairdressers. I know these people. We’ve been coming here for several years. And in years past she would leave me at my old salon. But it’s been awhile since she’s left me anywhere except physical therapy. My anxiety is through the roof. Which makes me feel ill. Which causes me more anxiety. Most of my anxiety is about a medical emergency happening while Sis is not around. Anxiety makes me feel like I’m on the verge of a medical emergency. I can tell myself that I know it’s just the anxiety…but you can’t logic s anxiety away. I can do this, I can do this.
#my post#anxiety#chronic anxiety#anxiety disorder#mental illness#mental health#spoonies#life#my life#my thoughts#thoughts
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Exploring the spectrum of mood disorders: understanding the varied experiences and challenges individuals may face. Let's raise awareness, foster understanding, and support those navigating their mental health journey.
#yourmentalhealthpal#mental health awareness#mental health#mood disorder#anxiety#anxiety disorder#bipolar disorder#postpartum#postpartum depression#psychotic disorders#seasonal affective disorder#chronic illness#chronic disorder#chronic anxiety#chronic depression#mental health matters#mental health management#mental health support#depression
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Are you even anxious bro?
#sex is great but#anxiety#meme#mental health#mental health awareness#anyone else?#mental health memes#mental health meme#anxiety memes#anxiety meme#relatable meme#relatable memes#relatable#chronic anxiety#you're not alone
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How We Fall
How We Fall
Notes: Poe Dameron/Reader, gender neutral reader, post-sequels, mild hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader, domestic fluff
CW: chronic illness, chronic pain, references to PTSD, implied sexual intimacy
Ao3 Link
★★★★★★★★
He should have been home by now. You check the time on your datapad again, and you can’t help but worry. Normally when he’s running late, he sends you a message to let you know. Poe has been off-planet on a trip to Lothal for two weeks helping a friend repair his home after a tornado came through. “It’s the least I can do,” he told you before he left. “He saved my ass more times than I can count during the war.”
After so many years together, it always feels strange when he’s gone for more than a few days—but not to the point of anxiety. That had started an hour ago, when he didn’t answer your call. You’re reaching for your com to call him again when you hear the garage door squeaking open. Arsix beeps and warbles, a binary phrase somewhere along the lines of told you it would be okay.
BB-8 comes through the door first, chirping a greeting.
“Your antenna’s bent,” you say. “Where’s Poe? Is everyone okay?”
Arsix has removed BB-8’s bent antenna and is already repairing it when you hear Poe cursing in the garage. There’s a slam that can only be the speeder door, but there’s also a metal-on-metal screech that startles you. You’re about to go out to the garage to check on him when Poe finally enters the kitchen looking exhausted. His jacket is torn and his hair is a mess—and is that a shadow or a bruise on his chin?
“Poe—”
“Come here, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for you as he drops his duffel bag on the kitchen floor. “Let me hold you.”
“What happened?”
As he pulls you into his arms, BB-8 chirps and whistles.
“A speeder wreck?” you ask. Tenderly you reach for his jaw. It is a bruise and he winces as you touch it.
“It’s not so bad. Kid came out of nowhere, sideswiped me. I would have called but my com went out the window, smashed into a tree.” Poe pulls the remains of his com device from his pocket and sets it on the kitchen counter as he explains how the police droids took forever at the scene of the accident because the other driver had been underage and the vehicle—his father’s—had been reported stolen. “Going to have to have at least one of the speeder doors replaced. Looks like you already fixed the little guy’s antenna.”
“Arsix did,” you say. “Are you hurt?”
“Nothing serious,” Poe says, taking your face in his hand. “Nothing that could keep me from getting back to you.”
This is his way—a little joke instead of answering your serious question. For now you smooth his hair away from his face, his dark curls now threaded with silver.
“At least now I know why you didn’t call,” you say.
“BB-8 tried to get a message to you. I didn’t notice his antenna until we were almost home.”
He does you the courtesy of not asking if you were worried. He knows you too well. Knows that you’ve been pacing between the sofa and the kitchen window for at least an hour. And you do him the courtesy of not telling him any of the horrible circumstances your anxiety conjured in your head. He knows all of those, too.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask one more time.
And he knows better than to lie to you, tells you there’s a pretty bad bruise on his ribs but nothing is broken or bleeding. So you set him up on the couch with an ice pack, a cup of tea, and some low-dose bacta spray.
“You’re too good to me,” he says as you help him out of his jacket.
“I’m feeling okay, and you’re not,” you say. “You’ve certainly taken care of me enough, when I’m not well.”
Poe takes your hand and pulls you down onto the sofa with him. He’s trembling, slightly—this happens sometimes. When he’s finally safe enough to start feeling his feelings. And he won’t want to talk about it right away—probably not until tomorrow. So you just hold his jacket, while he holds you, his heartbeat elevated.
“You were wearing this that day,” you say, running your hands over the soft leather, examining the damage from the crash. It had been so warm on Chandrila this year—you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him in his Resistance jacket.
“The day we met,” he says. “Can you fix it?”
“You know I can.”
Poe kisses you then, his lips pressed against yours with an urgency you haven’t sensed in him in years.
*
You’d met at your favorite spot for an afternoon cup of caf—a little place in your neighborhood that was part café, part bar, and just enough atmosphere for you to get a little work done while getting out of the house. And this place had also begun serve as his favorite spot for an after-work pint of ale. You’d seen him before, noted his jacket, the Resistance starbird on the shoulder. And you couldn’t not note how handsome he was—a man with the easy smile of someone used to getting plenty of attention. But what you’d noticed about him in recent days was his sad eyes.
If it hadn’t been for your droid, you doubt you ever would have talked to Poe. He had the look of someone whose heart had been recently broken, and you’d been down that path before—being the person who is only there to fill the emptiness that an ex-lover left behind. But on an especially quiet afternoon, a BB-unit rolled in to tell him that repairs to his speeder were finished and your R6-unit—assigned to by the New Republic therapy droid program—immediately perked up, beeping and whistling as she made her way to the ball droid who had begun to rock with excitement.
“What is it, buddy?” Poe asked.
When the droid told him an old friend was in the room, Poe immediately recognized your support droid, R6-D4.
“Arsix, is that you?” Poe said as he got up to approach the droid. “Who are you with these days?”
Arsix told Poe she was with you, spinning her head in your direction. So when the man with the sad eyes looked at you, you waved. You weren’t prepared to talk to any living being other than the barista today, so when he started walking toward you, your heart began to race. Seeing him up close, this man was breathtaking, with his dark curls and sharp jawline. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks.
“Poe Dameron,” he said, sticking his hand out for you to shake. “You a pilot?”
You took his hand, rough and warm, and inhaled deeply before you replied—this was a conversation you’d had many times since being paired with Arsix here on Chandrila, a Republic stronghold with several flight schools and Naval bases.
“No,” you said. “Arsix is a support droid. She helps me out—I’m sure you know other folks—”
“Of course,” he said. “You must be a veteran, then?”
Something else you’d heard a thousand times. Between Arsix and your PTSD, there were a lot of assumptions anytime you disclosed these parts of your life to someone new. It was exhausting, but Poe seemed kind. You gave him your patience.
“No,” you said. “There’s a program here—I’ve been with Arsix for about a year now. They’re working on getting disabled folks set up with droids. Not just vets, but civilians as well. Arsix is the only veteran in our household. But we do meet a lot of people who know her from the war.”
Poe sat down immediately and dropped his face into his hands in a moment of embarrassment before brushing his hair back with his fingers. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I haven’t even asked you your name and I’ve managed to pry into your personal life.”
You told him your name and said, “We get this a lot. What we don’t usually get is an apology.”
“I shouldn’t have assumed. I knew the pilot she used to fly with, so I imagined when he passed…”
Arsix cooed in a low tone, and you knew she was thinking of the man she’d spent most of her life with.
“Is your droid a vet?” you asked.
He laughed, his eyes brightening. “Yeah,” he said. “We both are.”
Arsix lets out an excited series of whistles and beeps, telling you that the man you were talking to was the general who lead the Battle of Exegol.
“Co-lead,” Poe corrected. He looked back to you and smiled. “Hey, would you want to get dinner? Nothing fancy, but I think these guys would like some time to catch up and I really should get away from the bar. Rough week, you know?”
You switched off your datapad and put it in your shoulder bag. “Why not,” you said. “I don’t usually go out with strange men but Arsix seems to think you’re respectable.”
Poe laughed and asked you if you’d been to the diner that had just opened up near the park. And since you hadn’t, you piled into his speeder with your two droids and headed into town.
*
“You know,” Poe says, “I actually had been hoping to be the big hero tonight.”
“Oh?”
“I got you this thing…” he starts, before calling down the hall, “BB-8, can you bring me the thing? It’s in the outside pocket.”
Poe runs his fingers along your jaw and cups your face in his hand before kissing you tenderly, slowly, his hand moving to the nape of your neck as he deepens the kiss—a kiss you return, your hands in his soft hair.
BB-8 chirps, interrupting with a small shopping bag. Poe smiles and thanks the droid.
“There was a little market on Lothal on the last day I was there,” he says, opening the bag. “And I’ve been meaning to get you one of these for a long time.”
Poe holds out a small box and you open it, revealing a pendant on a silver chain—a small stone set in several intricately carved interlocking rings.
“It’s kyber,” he says. “It’s not fancy kyber, but it’s kyber. And the way the stone sits in the silverr—I know this sounds insane but it’s supposed to produce a subtle vibration that helps with anxiety. You just sort of switch it on, if you slide the rings like this—”
The pendant is so delicate in his hands—rough hands from his years as a soldier, from his current job as a flight instructor, from his inability to not tinker with anything mechanical. But these were also the hands that held you through every panic attack, every difficult doctor visit, every night your joints hurt to the point of insomnia.
“Rey told me about it. Said she knew of jewelers that did this sort of thing. I just hadn’t found one until now.”
“It’s beautiful,” you say. “Will you help me put it on?”
As Poe clasps the necklace at the back of your neck, you’re not sure if you’re feeling the pleasant weight of his kindness or the calming vibration of the kyber. But you find yourself overwhelmed with love.
BB-8 chirps something about tending to his succulents and rolls out to the patio where he’s created a little space for his collection of cacti—all sourced from local nurseries. They’re like his pets, and you remember his worry about their stability when you and Poe moved to this house.
“If I hadn’t met you that day,” he says. “I think I would have drunk myself into a stupor. They would have had to peel me off the floor with a shovel and send me home in a taxi.”
“You were a bit of a mess,” you admit. “But it turns out that underneath that mess was a beautiful heart. I’m kind of glad your therapist chose that week to take a little time off.”
“Yeah,” he says with a laugh. “Me, too.”
*
“Do you want to tell me about your rough week?” you asked.
Poe ran a hand through his hair and in the brighter light of the diner you noticed a handsome streak of silver in his dark curls.
“You know,” he said, “I can tell you the version that’s appropriate for having just met you or I can tell you the messy version that’s the truth and I’m not really sure what version you want to hear.”
“Tell me whatever you feel comfortable with,” you said. “We’re just two people in a diner.”
Just two people because you’d given Arsix a handful of credits to go to the shopping center a few blocks over and BB-8 had joined her. Arsix had developed an odd passion for reading paper books—something that had come back into vogue on several core planets, though not for most droids who preferred Binary to Basic. You heard BB-8 chirp something about gardening, but they were already halfway out the door when they’d begun to discuss their new peacetime hobbies.
“Well,” he said, “My two best friends got married this week.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“It was. Honestly, it was great. But I used to be more than friends with one of them, and I thought I’d moved on from that. From him. And I have. I really have. Wartime relationships, you know? But I guess the whole thing hit me kind of funny and I’m trying not to feel it. Which…not healthy, right?”
“Oh,” you said. “That actually sounds really difficult.”
“And the kicker is…my therapist is on vacation,” he said with a smile.
You weren’t sure whether he was joking but you surprised yourself, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Something always happens when my therapist is on vacation, too,” you said. “It’s the worst. And probably why you wanted to get away from the bar.”
“Exactly.”
“Even though I’ve been seeing you there for months now, so it’s clearly your preferred after-work hang out.”
“Months?” Poe asked, a look of genuine surprise on his face. “How did I not notice you before today?”
“I’m usually tucked away in a corner, not at the bar. And Arsix tends to have her proverbial nose stuck in a book when we’re there,” you said. “At least since she got banned from the jukebox for slicing.”
“You’re just…so beautiful and kind. I should have noticed you right away. I must really have been lost in a funk.”
Poe squeezed your hand and smiled—an incredibly charming smile whether it was for you or just to cover a bit of discomfort. And you knew in this moment that you were about to fall for him, even if he was a man with an exceptional amount of baggage. Who didn’t have baggage these days, just a few years out from the fall of the First Order, from the war that almost destroyed everything you loved?
“Well, we’re here now” you said. “And we’re even. You know about my disability status, I know about your post-wedding depression.”
A waiter came by with menus and asked if he could get you started on drinks.
“How about something fizzy?” Poe asked. “What do you have in the way of fizzy drinks?”
*
The sun has set when Poe collects the dinner dishes from the table and deposits them in the sink.
“Let me take care of that,” you say. “You must still be sore.”
“I’m fine,” he says. “The bacta spray took care of things.” He lifts up his shirt to show that his bruises have faded significantly.
You smile, bringing a single lingering glass to the kitchen where pulls you close. You close your eyes, thinking only of how lucky you are that he actually made it home to you today. That the speeder took the brunt of the impact. You take a deep breath, doing your best to hold back the sudden tears welling in your eyes.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Poe asks.
“I’m just so glad you got home safe,” you say quietly, barely above a whisper.
“Of course I did,” he says. “After everything, did you really think a teenager in a stolen landspeeder was going to take me out?”
“Poe—”
“I did some very stupid things when I was younger, and some even stupider things…more recently. But I’ll be damned if I ever let anything keep me from making it home to you.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I just did.”
It only takes one look into Poe’s warm, brown eyes to know this is the truth. He gently wipes away your tears, kisses you, the coarse stubble on his upper lip a comforting sensation that grounds you in this moment as you kiss him back with a determined hunger, threading your fingers through his hair and pressing your body against his as he wraps his arms around you.
“Let’s go to bed,” he says. “Maybe I can help you relax a little.”
You follow him down the hall to your bedroom where Chandrilla’s single moon is shining through a tiny gap in your curtains. You’ve often thought to yourself how strange it is that you ended up here on Chandrila, with some hero pilot, and a little droid family. That life is strange, the way things just fit together like that when you’re not even looking.
Poe begins to undress you, kissing the curve of your neck and then your clavicle, his hands gentle with every caress. You help him pull his t-shirt over his head, and as you climb into bed, you brush his hair away from his face, tucking a few wayward curls behind his ear.
“I love you,” you say, “so very much.”
“And I love you,” he tells you, taking your hand—the one bearing his mother’s ring—and ghosting his lips over your knuckles. “More than anything in the galaxy.”
★★★★★★★★
I've been finding a lot of comfort in the sequels recently, and I thought y'all might enjoy a comfort fic with Poe. I hope this makes you feel seen and loved. I'm hoping to continue writing him, and perhaps work a bit more of his PTSD and possibly a lingering physical injury into his story since so many have told me that the disability representation means a lot to them. Thank you as always for reading.
Tagging folks who I think would enjoy! I really need to get a proper taglist going: Tagging some folks who might enjoy:
@justrunamok @galaxtic-writings @belfry-bat @phoenixhalliwell @laserbrains @r1-sw-lover @darthanakin @disastersim @infinityrevengers @lovedbyth3sun @usernamesarebitches @writingbylee @princessxkenobi @zinzinina @maul-ologue @operation-spot @waterpancakeao3 @strwrs @aerynwrites
#poe dameron#oscar isaac#poe dameron x reader#poe dameron x gn!reader#disabled reader#chronic illness#chronic anxiety#ptsd#star wars fanfiction#star was fanfic#star wars#star wars sequels#post-exegol#domestic fluff#fluff and angst#hurt/comfort#emotional hurt/comfort#established relationship#Arsix the therapy droid#BB-8#uwingwriting
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#chronic pain#chronic illness#chronic anxiety#endometriosis#pmdd#chronic illness humor#spoonie#endo warrior#chronic pain gang#funny
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Autism & Anxiety & ADHD
Mrs Speechie P
#autism#actually autistic#adhd#adhd post#anxiety#chronic anxiety#high anxiety#general anxiety disorder#neurodivergence#neurodiversity#actually neurodivergent#feel free to share/reblog#Mrs Speechie P (Facebook)
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Why did no one tell me that the "chemical imbalance" theory has largely been disproven, that serotonin and dopamine can't cause mental illness on their own? Why have all mental health professionals been pushing this idea as fact? I've always thought the whole BPD diagnosis was bogus, just modern day hysteria slapped onto (mostly) women with complex-PTSD. Almost an official gaslight, like "your trauma wasn't traumatic enough to warrant the PTSD label so we're going to act like your brain is malfunctioning". So I'm not surprised to find all this out.
Can we finally begin a trauma-informed approach toward mainstream mental health shit? Especially mood disorders? Let's not rule chemicals and hormones out entirely, but let's acknowledge that trauma and genes have far stronger ties to mental health.
#obviously genetics are a huge factor too#and socioeconomic status altho i would also consider that under the trauma umbrella??#im starting to wonder whether my meds were really helping me chemically#or if they were giving a placebo affect bc they affected me physically so much at first#like “this feels intense so they must be legit”#and then the belief carried me through being open to therapy and healing etc#definitely pulled me from the edge of suicide#either way they helped me#i wonder if I'd be ok off them now that its been like 6+ years#NONE OF THIS IS ADVICE BTW#personal#tw medical#chronic depression#chronic anxiety#borderline personality disorder#actually borderline#cptsd
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Dear Diary,
I experience crippling anxiety on a daily basis. Some times I don’t lead on that anything is wrong because I hate being a burden. When I do let someone in I feel like I’m a burden and a problem. It feels endless. The intrusive thoughts are suffocating and I feel like I’m drowning. There’s nothing I can do except endure and hope it doesn’t end disastrous. If you think the moments I do open up are bad, then I guess it’s a good thing I keep my mouth shut the rest of the time.
#dear diary#heart vs mind#weight of the world#sick of being sick#overwhelmed#i want to disappear#crippling anxiety#chronic anxiety#i’m doing my best#alone with my thoughts#alone#numb#i’m so tired#words hurt#the small things matter
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Hi! I'm looking to explore more punk artists who write about disability (of any kind really) and/or chronic illness, would you happen to have any recommendations for that? Thanks!
hi! i didn't have a concrete list, really, so i did a bit of digging and here's a couple albums & blurbs! it's not actually very punk-centric (more experimental than anything) my apologies. i haven't listened to all of these fully, but the stuff that i've heard has been lovely!
grim bitch/sick shit — collander: experimental/electronic bedroom pop. "a peek into a few weeks of low-spoons electronic production, demo tracks demo bodies." alli yates, the singer behind collander, is also "member of Sins Invalid, a performance collective for artists with disabilities, and is a prominent disability rights activist within Oakland’s underground scene" (bandcamp daily)
187bpm_demo — wheelchair sports camp: experimental funk/hip-hop. "We would like to offer this song of rage, anger, and grief to the ongoing fight for liberation. For those on the frontlines of today's uprising and for the generations of movements before that paved the way, taught us how, and who gave their all for us to be here." i found them through kr/p-hop nation's network, whose website is sadly defunct but the founder's twitter (leroy f moore jr) is still up!
sicko — beast nest: experimental/electronic noise. "And when I personally think about liberation, I think about what it means to get to a place where you are able to be present and really live with that presence. I think about what oppression functions as, what abolition is about, what disability justice is about" (bandcamp daily). sharmi basu (of beast nest!) is one of the people behind ratskin records, a label based in oakland, ca dedicated to "decolonial experimental music centered in the Bay Area and beyond". i've heard some of beast nest's stuff before and it is stellar, definitely recommend if ur interested in brown noise.
the runner — boy harsher: coldwave/drone. "Last year, in the midst of the obvious chaos, but additionally with Matthews’ MS diagnosis, Muller started working on moody, cinematic sketches. It was uncertain what these pieces would become other than catharsis — the duo were unable to tour and making “club music” did not feel right." this one i had saved from a rec post i'd seen somewhere on here, but i hadn't had a chance to listen till now. this is the soundtrack to their short horror film of the same name!
split 12 — chronic anxiety / dialer: post-punk noise/harsh electronic punk. "the album is six slices of pure post punk-noise rock wrapped in a silk swaddle of self-assertion and anxiety." this one's actually a vinyl split between 2 bands but i figured it would be a fun add! this one's a joint release between Bunny Cat Records (Great Weights, Love Club, Impressionist) and SRA Records (FOD, Dead Milkmen, HIRS, Psychic Teens) and their noise is so so cool.
https://synthfreq.bandcamp.com/album/vol-1
the enigma of heaven and other daily delusions — heaven pierce her: electronic/experimental breakcore. "An exploration of christianity, mundane divinity and paranoid schizophrenia in the information age." i'm originally familiar with hakita's work via ultrakill, but this album actually means so much to me for a lot of different reasons. shan't get into it here, hope you enjoy it.
the flesh of the world — uboa: dark ambient/harsh noise. "These four songs were done under quarantine and are about bodies, body dysmorphia and the schizophrenic dissolution of the boundary between self and other" ; i love uboa's work and this album is genuinely fantastic.
i'm not 100% sure if these completely qualify, but the following punk bands are extremely vocal about their support for marginalized groups (and discuss mental illness / disability here and there in their work): hirs collective, blkvapor, the muslims, soul glo, pulses., pinkshift, S.B.S.M., and G.L.O.S.S. ^_^ if anybody else has any recommendations, please feel free to add on! this list is by no means exhaustive, it's literally what i found after a couple weeks of sitting on this ask. i would love love love any recs; they would be much appreciated.
all albums linked are through bandcamp! obligatory mention that bandcamp staff are currently unionizing: check out bandcamp united's linktree for a ton of resources to support them, including email templates to the co-founder expressing your support for the union. on bandcamp fridays, the first friday of every month, all proceeds from sales will go directly to artists & bandcamp will not take any fees. <3
#this ended up being more of a research linkdump than anything else AHHH#i was compiling links and tabs @ work and then ended up posting all of this while killing time tabling. godspeed everybody#eff#long post#anonymous#answered#apologies that it took so long to get back to you! i actually didnt have any off the top of my head who had work (that i knew of) explicitl#about disability so i literally was like we have to change that. the list ended up being mostly other genres but that last bullet point is#punk that i'm personally familiar with. love and light.#alright i'm gonna start tagging get readyyyy ->#collander#wheelchair sports camp#beast nest#boy harsher#chronic anxiety#dialer#am not tagging the last few bands that i linked w/o a blurb i feel like its not enough to warrant a tag. but i like em so much. ok#ok added these two i love you experimental music:#heaven pierce her#uboa
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My anxiety is crippling me again and only now I realise that I was way too calm this past two weeks and I was already wondering why I felt so different 😭 I absolutely didn’t miss my crippling anxiety at all 😩🤡
I’m distressed rn and I have no fucking clue why. I wanted to eat but now my appetite is gone due to the accompanying nausea my anxiety gives me 😩
Funnily I don’t have my usual anxiety intrusive thoughts about my life and about certain situations. It’s simply only shaking, feeling like an elephant is sitting on my chest, upset stomach, very footsies fidgeting tic, chewing my lips, shallow breathing, freezing for some reason, stomach cramps.
I hate it nonetheless but I guess I prefer when my brain isn’t making stuff worse than it is already.
#everyday echoes#unfiltered realities#echo rambling#echoes echo of today#mental health#unfiltered life#neurodivergent#mental illness#chronic fatigue#chronic pain#chronic anxiety#generalized anxiety disorder#g.a.d#actually anxious#panic disorder
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Anxiety ramble 5/3/24
Just really rambling here...but I hate my anxiety more than anything.
It makes me wonder where the line lies between anxiety and paranoia.
I notice the urge to SH gets higher and more intense during anxious episodes.
The recurring thought to get the anxiety out of me is really a bummer.
I dont like having to bite, pinch, scratch, punch, or slap myself to alieviate the feeling.
Thats not very nice.
I just dont know what to say about it. You know..
Im on meds for this..
My doctor says they should be helping.
Sigh.
It especialy sucks because like I feel sometimes in the peak of those moments, like I am losing my grip on my sanity.
I wish my brain wasnt wired to be such a fucker bitch.
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My list of diagnoses has grown! Figured I might as well try and keep track. I’m going to *try* and put them in the order I received the diagnosis, but no promises lol:
Autism
ADHD
Dyscalculia
Dysgraphia
Chronic anxiety
Depression
PTSD
Chronic migraines
Bipolar Disorder type 2
Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (which includes chronic inflammation and joint pain)
#dyscalculia#actually autistic#actually adhd#dysgraphia#chronic anxiety#chronic depression#pcos#bipolar type 2#bipolar type ii#polycystic ovarian syndrome
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